tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-213088312024-03-07T17:18:15.015-07:00An Italian in the USThoughts, impressions, suggestions, recipes, and more from an Italian in the USA. A bilingual blog which may inspire you to visit and learn about Italy.
Pensieri, impressioni, suggerimenti, ricette ed altro da un'Italiana negli States. Un blog bilingue che potrebbe farvi venire voglia di visitare e scoprire gli Stati Uniti.chemcookithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17675842171888658314noreply@blogger.comBlogger404125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21308831.post-30106124072804642082012-01-20T17:54:00.000-08:002012-01-20T17:54:17.041-08:00Auguri<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPIMatrZIh-agdsoKCkCTOGo3lx7U4QqtQKAOJOnjpWTZ1v7phAb6Y1c7B0pPXrm0hMxuh3oFnfEnOa5IzOttcqEyR__VUMfNiHxzqk_vjZgTntPL6Kst2Nilt8AqFQiln2TbjPQ/s1600/IMG_4369.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="300" width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPIMatrZIh-agdsoKCkCTOGo3lx7U4QqtQKAOJOnjpWTZ1v7phAb6Y1c7B0pPXrm0hMxuh3oFnfEnOa5IzOttcqEyR__VUMfNiHxzqk_vjZgTntPL6Kst2Nilt8AqFQiln2TbjPQ/s400/IMG_4369.JPG" /></a></div><br />
Ciao sorella.chemcookithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17675842171888658314noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21308831.post-10767788959384885312011-01-22T13:40:00.005-08:002011-01-22T14:17:20.566-08:00GrazieAmore<br />tu sei alto<br />non ce la faccio ad arrivare fino a te<br />Ma se fossimo in due<br />chissà, forse insieme a turno attaccando il Chimborazo potremmo<br />ducali<br />infine giungere a te. <br />Amore<br />tu sei profondo<br />non ce la faccio ad attraversarti<br />Ma se fossimo in due<br />invece che uno<br />panfilo e remi<br />chissà, qualche estate<br />sovrana<br />arriveremmo fino al sole. <br />Amore<br />tu sei velato<br />Pochi<br />ti guardano<br />sorridono<br />mutano<br />vaneggiano<br />e muoiono<br />Senza di te<br />sarebbe cosa ben strana<br />quella felicità perfetta da Dio soprannominata<br />Eternità. <br /><br />Emily Dickinson (1862)<br />Silenzi <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvJDB47KCqKYoIvM-YFPBBWKjEmYJ3kjRbIHlyc_fUYDbwMJtXafFSeJyB7eHOMi1VCd_OpTfVzn04-nqVn5qN3q8OsQhuS8kSLbIYttPrNvENUHFm0FpaYq2548PqUei-mH_w8w/s1600/IMG_5166.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvJDB47KCqKYoIvM-YFPBBWKjEmYJ3kjRbIHlyc_fUYDbwMJtXafFSeJyB7eHOMi1VCd_OpTfVzn04-nqVn5qN3q8OsQhuS8kSLbIYttPrNvENUHFm0FpaYq2548PqUei-mH_w8w/s400/IMG_5166.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5565135638100401426" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqBytgeV-l5YQS11aAhVZwr2aDloLOmpnlwSiW1U1YtPGNGHCSPLmh5wDlg0ID9pruJhTusmR9OkNOCxnr79zjQo0YVt6zIfPCquXNXRAywzoX37a9jljPTuvAqfvhi8xuTmtjhA/s1600/IMG_5291.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 236px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqBytgeV-l5YQS11aAhVZwr2aDloLOmpnlwSiW1U1YtPGNGHCSPLmh5wDlg0ID9pruJhTusmR9OkNOCxnr79zjQo0YVt6zIfPCquXNXRAywzoX37a9jljPTuvAqfvhi8xuTmtjhA/s400/IMG_5291.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5565135631585552994" /></a>chemcookithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17675842171888658314noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21308831.post-43156651352193411702010-02-07T10:25:00.009-08:002010-02-07T12:42:55.464-08:00Primo post ufficale dal CanadaThe first post of 'An Italian in Canada' will be a short visual summary of just a few things that we learned to like here in Montreal. It's winter, so one has to accept it and take the best out of it. For us, this means mostly going ice skating on the very large frozen pond at La Fontaine park, five minutes from our apartment. Here you can see a small part of the pond, right after it snowed, with people skating on the clear paths. Notice the mom skating with her child in the carrier!<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCiF83IcIhF5fHhADsHZ5sF2Das62vJuGytzgpR8xMFgPFa42zivEC8TYrG_an3AdyFSfxS9asPRQPOFwHmYw63pNtnE0-kFIFkOqUSSQx9bolVICsKBUwqdlTBf0TLTJNvqlNUw/s1600-h/IMG_5948.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCiF83IcIhF5fHhADsHZ5sF2Das62vJuGytzgpR8xMFgPFa42zivEC8TYrG_an3AdyFSfxS9asPRQPOFwHmYw63pNtnE0-kFIFkOqUSSQx9bolVICsKBUwqdlTBf0TLTJNvqlNUw/s400/IMG_5948.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5435590074035984978" /></a>Right after it snows, people go out and have fun in the parks. I think I'd love to be a child in Montreal.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwXI8lwv0NAeKnPbKlRwaploPdbcA8R7duE4goKdbbch98mYhCzeB3EHWipYR4XACVATaEbRK3zMmOqsGUupf79UVSkc6hU8AP9FGmaKHe4wXbfGy1Ezm9XQKzrQfLGEeEtw9B_A/s1600-h/IMG_5935.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 203px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwXI8lwv0NAeKnPbKlRwaploPdbcA8R7duE4goKdbbch98mYhCzeB3EHWipYR4XACVATaEbRK3zMmOqsGUupf79UVSkc6hU8AP9FGmaKHe4wXbfGy1Ezm9XQKzrQfLGEeEtw9B_A/s400/IMG_5935.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5435590078728869314" /></a>Squirrels are fine with the snow as well. However, they are so much thinner than the squirrels in Berkeley!<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitJVcc2ecK16H3w72bxivybu77jzHmbt8FF3v1tNL3UttGtvPZec5RcBAkDfqtT-19mK8dQ6aaxfAzNwqZELTC6cWfCLmTe-PT9EGME_LGdkGoRWzOlKvsRVvWNdyEQGHHyRaNnA/s1600-h/IMG_5942.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitJVcc2ecK16H3w72bxivybu77jzHmbt8FF3v1tNL3UttGtvPZec5RcBAkDfqtT-19mK8dQ6aaxfAzNwqZELTC6cWfCLmTe-PT9EGME_LGdkGoRWzOlKvsRVvWNdyEQGHHyRaNnA/s400/IMG_5942.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5435590081955130498" /></a><br />When it's not terribly cold, we walk around the city. One of our favorite destinations is Mile End, a Jewish area with three main highlights: two bagel factories, open 24 h per day, 7 days/week, and 'Cheskie', one of the best pastry places in town. I will give more details about Cheskie in a later post, when I have some pictures to go with the explanation.<br /><br />The bagel factories have huge wood ovens where they constantly bake the bagels, after boiling them in water with honey according to the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Montreal_bagel">Montreal recipe.</a> It's hard to choose between the two rivals, 'St. Viateur' and 'Fairmount'. They both make amazingly good bagels and tasting them hot right out of the oven is a pleasure, especially after a long walk in the cold. Here is a comparison of their sesame bagels:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7RnddrvzUgT8gMMdLcuvL5HYThrzVMVlh4xHxb6nUtRN1YN8l76Emr3W1iQN09ySu4eq1k4nfzj1Mrq9xEtIJnmNyWC-qaAIS8DT9gF9KkPoJoUOkjT-zSPsn6RHp70hFuISlYg/s1600-h/IMG_5899.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7RnddrvzUgT8gMMdLcuvL5HYThrzVMVlh4xHxb6nUtRN1YN8l76Emr3W1iQN09ySu4eq1k4nfzj1Mrq9xEtIJnmNyWC-qaAIS8DT9gF9KkPoJoUOkjT-zSPsn6RHp70hFuISlYg/s400/IMG_5899.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5435590092098389458" /></a>(left Fairmount's bagel, right St. Viateur's).<br />St. Viateur is a bit cheaper and has a smaller selection of flavors. We tend to like the St.Viateur's warm sesame bagels the best, but the Fairmount's 'bleuet' (blueberry) and 'tout garni' (all dressed) are probably our favorite. I will take a picture of these places one of these days.<br /><br />Another amazing place in Montreal is '<a href="http://www.adonisproducts.com/pages/accueil_en.asp">Adonis</a>', a Middle Eastern grocery store that we discovered thanks to a friend of ours. I've been on this planet for more than 30 years, but I had no idea about what Middle Eastern food really is, before going to this store.<br /><br />For example, here are two shots of their fresh cheese counter. These are some of the harder cheese. The feta section is not pictured, it occupies about the same space on the counter.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7GkDM7-riddLomlDLyM1TCYSblfVM_ptEPdZwNGwFZQjNjs6v1_J3wAmjaKzVp4e85GbUsUOp1hdXcTeAmcLE6MlOFhor4YTQc3exUlCM7uUt6qJ6MfPEGYRdGQxlS71EdTKF5w/s1600-h/IMG_5984.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7GkDM7-riddLomlDLyM1TCYSblfVM_ptEPdZwNGwFZQjNjs6v1_J3wAmjaKzVp4e85GbUsUOp1hdXcTeAmcLE6MlOFhor4YTQc3exUlCM7uUt6qJ6MfPEGYRdGQxlS71EdTKF5w/s400/IMG_5984.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5435590094184302898" /></a>That big braided cheese is an unbelievably dense and salty cheese, with herbs in the dough. We still have to figure out how to eat it exactly. For now we have soaked it in water to eliminate some of the salt and then used it on pizza or inside our kofta sandwiches.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDWSFNzHEUM5fbMezu_MkNkhGBUxCm_nOsIDoz2DXt8ZwKAlldku-fxz9UwAxs5FMi8xdkGO_lx-7HewgCICRVZ6Vq6WHgjXzIzg1uBOOBY-1RIsKFKym053QfpFT2kh_CWC7CYw/s1600-h/IMG_5985.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDWSFNzHEUM5fbMezu_MkNkhGBUxCm_nOsIDoz2DXt8ZwKAlldku-fxz9UwAxs5FMi8xdkGO_lx-7HewgCICRVZ6Vq6WHgjXzIzg1uBOOBY-1RIsKFKym053QfpFT2kh_CWC7CYw/s400/IMG_5985.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5435591796969363602" /></a>These are some of the soft cheeses. The labneh, especially the half goat labneh, is really good and we started using it either with cucumber and mint or just plain during our middle-eastern dinners.<br /><br />The olive selection is as diverse as the cheese counter (no pic, sorry); the Lebanese and the Sicilian olives are particularly good, and they cost ~$4/lb!<br /><br />Their meat counter is also amazing. We've been buying ground and whole Quebecois lamb, much better than New-Zealandese lamb, for a very reasonable price. Not to speak about their delicious hallal chickens for ~$6 each, or their merguez, a lamb/beef sausage, spiced with cinnamon and hot spices.<br /><br />Another amazing discovery for us was the variety of Middle Eastern breads: pita, the one we all know, is really just their most common bread, which they sell for almost nothing ($0.99 for 6 pitas). Then they have long sheets of ~1 cm thick bread from Afghanistan, some discs that are ~1 mm thick and ~1 m wide, soft loaves.. We're trying them all little by little.<br /><br />The honey and molassas aisle is amazing as well. Did you ever have grape or fig molassas? Or honey from rose flowers? We tried the grape molassas, and I liked it quite a bit. It tastes very grapy indeed. The same is true for their juice section (apricot and pomegranate are the less extravagant. We recently got sour cherry and guava juice). And their <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Halva">halva </a>section sports tubs in all sizes coming from many different countries. So far however our favorite is still the halva we bought a few months ago somewhere else in Montreal, the Jean-Talon market, which will be the subject of a separate post.<br /><br />If these items still haven't convinced you about the richness of Middle Eastern food, here is what will: their <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Baklava">baklava </a>section.When you get to this counter, you understand why Islamic heaven is represented with streams of honey. Piles and piles of at least 20 different types of baklavas, or baklava-like sweets, are showcased attractively.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8782yfZ4tvYMwU99R12K1oUDfEFN_ncNd1jnNVka0PCfOivWWNMEGncIRzju9H-JG-TSauUEsuKjsKFRgAeZrEeJWnYBMJpOdNfXvUdp1tH9EoBaXse0pvHCoNwT_u1KqbTIF0g/s1600-h/IMG_5988.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 323px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8782yfZ4tvYMwU99R12K1oUDfEFN_ncNd1jnNVka0PCfOivWWNMEGncIRzju9H-JG-TSauUEsuKjsKFRgAeZrEeJWnYBMJpOdNfXvUdp1tH9EoBaXse0pvHCoNwT_u1KqbTIF0g/s400/IMG_5988.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5435590702579209810" /></a>And the truth is, they are all really, really good. They are surprisingly different, some of them more buttery, some crumbly, some have filaments of sugary crunchy dough around them, some taste more like rose, others have a lemon hint, they can be filled with almonds, pistachios, walnuts, hazelnuts... Hard to stop pointing at them when we buy them.<br /><br />So, this is really one of the things that for now make Montreal worth living in: its mulitcultural aspect and the amazing bagels, croissants, breads and donoughts that can be found at each corner. I'll talk about Portoguese and French bakeries in another post. Hopefully we can avoid eating too many of them while we wait for the winter to be over.<br /><br />Let me finish this post with a comparison of two pictures of parcs close to our apartment: Parc de La Fontaine in January:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsZTPESAwQWV5vwuLfZQfxU9QPGQY76k0Efevfl_duEIBtRl5QF-ekuDdJbKhYU5IbYhgEFOyYDef_hNoob31gQ6tTbABlT_q99JGmyz9ekh_QBtbzgp1H2FdXdhcbnk9CAtuWVw/s1600-h/IMG_5945.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsZTPESAwQWV5vwuLfZQfxU9QPGQY76k0Efevfl_duEIBtRl5QF-ekuDdJbKhYU5IbYhgEFOyYDef_hNoob31gQ6tTbABlT_q99JGmyz9ekh_QBtbzgp1H2FdXdhcbnk9CAtuWVw/s400/IMG_5945.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5435590709243660194" /></a>And Parc St Louis in November:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo9hEP7kThDz-4f_gKUr5xkw9RoHtzBCxRsuAXDJsfmtfJVOXxWUJrSU3dkBGM430Xsb69yhD6DipQfKZw2CB211ITbe8Y8nHd5vbSLKEgVHcjBOXMcefpoOfXBEcgghBnEcf-Ng/s1600-h/IMG_5897.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo9hEP7kThDz-4f_gKUr5xkw9RoHtzBCxRsuAXDJsfmtfJVOXxWUJrSU3dkBGM430Xsb69yhD6DipQfKZw2CB211ITbe8Y8nHd5vbSLKEgVHcjBOXMcefpoOfXBEcgghBnEcf-Ng/s400/IMG_5897.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5435590711824091634" /></a>Walking through the latter park while going to work used to make me feel so happy, when the trees still had beautiful yellow, green and red leaves! I can't complain, though. I don't mind the snow, and really, it's been a mild winter. Also, I saw beautiful sceneries that I would have never imagined, such as the air filled with ice crystals, all shiny, when it's close to -20C. I can enjoy them provided my eyelashes aren't frozen shut, which sometimes happens because of the humidity freezing between them.chemcookithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17675842171888658314noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21308831.post-7711043726242867052010-01-02T12:29:00.004-08:002010-01-02T13:40:40.191-08:00Viaggio attraverso gli StatesHello dear readers--and welcome to the last official post of the 'Italian in the US'.<br /><br />As I mentioned a few posts ago, I moved to Canada with Matt. I have a new job in Montreal, and we've been living here for the past 3 months. To get here, we decided to take a road trip from California to Montreal.<br /><br />We wanted to take it easy, and have a relaxing trip to conclude our peripatetic summer. We didn't plan much in advance and packed as light as possible, leaving most of our stuff with the movers. We took just some clothes and two bikes, so we could bike around along the way.<br /><br />The plan turned out to be slightly wrong: The day of the move the movers told us they wouldn't bring any of Matt's wine and liquor collection, because they thought they would have a lot of trouble with it at the border. So we ended up driving all the way with two boxes full of buzz, without knowing what we were going to do with it once at the border. We just knew we were not going to pay the crazy duties imposed by Quebec on alcoholic beverages, corresponding to 100 to 140% of the value of the bottles.<br /><br />We left sans itinerary from Berkeley on August 30<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">th</span>. Here is a map of what we actually ended up doing.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuXC2xSHiEYYl4u9-NO5EArZF259ABkDoE3QfZzDRSLCEiVeEHFe1DHpoGGQLGSQA_aCw1P-10ZchtwfAsJgyeoRKtPBzdXA9jy1BhyRLJF87CxfsF5pnc1v9X4IJF6WJZO7Qy1A/s1600-h/trip.bmp"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 139px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuXC2xSHiEYYl4u9-NO5EArZF259ABkDoE3QfZzDRSLCEiVeEHFe1DHpoGGQLGSQA_aCw1P-10ZchtwfAsJgyeoRKtPBzdXA9jy1BhyRLJF87CxfsF5pnc1v9X4IJF6WJZO7Qy1A/s400/trip.bmp" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5420918872890426930" border="0" /></a>As you can see, we didn't follow the straightest path, which would have been I-80, because we wanted to visit Matt's mom in Idaho Falls, and drive through Grand <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Teton</span> and Yellowstone parks.<br /><br />Our last picture from California was from the beautiful <span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">Donner lake</span>.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjK10Zs6ae-X8hc-6bRW-3_aLABAPxfR3czYWeKFpvoiFr7f5_uNrUfhduKaP1L5PaPf0vZIFssa1NJdlE6ENe-S_zwjN5lYwJIMedAKHja3TclSPfBcYcJzvDZ2Cx5VXDOldr13g/s1600-h/IMG_5596.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 288px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjK10Zs6ae-X8hc-6bRW-3_aLABAPxfR3czYWeKFpvoiFr7f5_uNrUfhduKaP1L5PaPf0vZIFssa1NJdlE6ENe-S_zwjN5lYwJIMedAKHja3TclSPfBcYcJzvDZ2Cx5VXDOldr13g/s400/IMG_5596.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5421922891376642146" border="0" /></a>Goodbye, California! We hope to see you soon again.<br /><br />We arrived in <span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">Nevada </span>at sunset, which was quite pretty, but didn't take pictures of the landscape. We spent the night in <span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">Reno</span>, at my dear friend Fiona's. The evening with her was really nice, and the area where she lives is quite nice too. However, when the morning after we visited downtown Reno, I was somewhat disturbed by all the casinos and the consumerist traps. We decided to enter one of them, with the main purpose of changing a huge amount of coins that Matt collected over the years. This procedure turned out to work quite well--no fees, unlike the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">CoinStar</span> machines at grocery stores!<br /><br />After leaving Reno, we drove all the way through Nevada, up to Idaho Falls. Matt's mom lives there and we wanted to get there in the evening. It was a long drive, especially because most of Nevada is a big desert with just bushes here and there... I liked seeing these empty spaces for a while, as it's something that can't be found in Europe, but after 4-5 hours they started to get boring. When we saw the first mountains at the horizon, Matt felt more at home.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyKS9lOBGsle9RYn7CaiTVCS6iEJOGL__1wJ015Pj2atyO_Nmd5szmZVtohlICB-DUlYOtlecIcV6T3fZ3TIe02OQUGosBfQq64rIBEYTdqr8FnMkqpQkvt5adx-8T7-L4H3U1zg/s1600-h/IMG_5601.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyKS9lOBGsle9RYn7CaiTVCS6iEJOGL__1wJ015Pj2atyO_Nmd5szmZVtohlICB-DUlYOtlecIcV6T3fZ3TIe02OQUGosBfQq64rIBEYTdqr8FnMkqpQkvt5adx-8T7-L4H3U1zg/s400/IMG_5601.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5421922897774889346" border="0" /></a><br />Before getting to Matt's mom's, we stopped to take a few pictures at <span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">Twin Falls</span> canyon.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0wp-t29EtRCwi9JI1ypJjTBBXqetseVzeoU-9JhIv8IOj8KRXGRKCrCi8l9AKHFzTltsLLUg1pJl11giAEwNDaQf-2So5bDXrnaGo4tIJYd7aGbeFap9EQ7T2ZpO2q9PsiAtU-w/s1600-h/IMG_5605.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0wp-t29EtRCwi9JI1ypJjTBBXqetseVzeoU-9JhIv8IOj8KRXGRKCrCi8l9AKHFzTltsLLUg1pJl11giAEwNDaQf-2So5bDXrnaGo4tIJYd7aGbeFap9EQ7T2ZpO2q9PsiAtU-w/s400/IMG_5605.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5421922904547256146" border="0" /></a><br />We arrived to <span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">Idaho Falls</span> at sunset. I really liked the sight of the sprinklers in the fields in the evening and I got a few pictures from the car.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAOxa4-5hKU3W6OXlyqFL3SJlUd9PxpcDboRqsjMSgisPX3cgBw4fwznPslNlkxWG07teGClRXZmAcDU9Y4Q69b6INbqtSPutsbvufTXv7EXAKUfNFV8Ia6EILynzeLGqbjKWHFg/s1600-h/IMG_5608.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 180px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAOxa4-5hKU3W6OXlyqFL3SJlUd9PxpcDboRqsjMSgisPX3cgBw4fwznPslNlkxWG07teGClRXZmAcDU9Y4Q69b6INbqtSPutsbvufTXv7EXAKUfNFV8Ia6EILynzeLGqbjKWHFg/s400/IMG_5608.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5421922908628581330" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-q6p-o8MvbA2_4giaO27js1SRLEbwjIKGAC8UKGOwUXOacf1-ur_YZOnNpPnAe5wI-lkolfcwFuWlobkocdaoR8B14lvmw8DwPmy4kkqqBhlDxybJi8NxzSG15nyOgHnSfPAiog/s1600-h/IMG_5610.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 153px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-q6p-o8MvbA2_4giaO27js1SRLEbwjIKGAC8UKGOwUXOacf1-ur_YZOnNpPnAe5wI-lkolfcwFuWlobkocdaoR8B14lvmw8DwPmy4kkqqBhlDxybJi8NxzSG15nyOgHnSfPAiog/s400/IMG_5610.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5421922916042095874" border="0" /></a>A rural, peaceful view.<br /><br />We stayed at Matt's mom's for three nights--we kept delaying our departure as we were having a really good and relaxing time. We took our bikes out of the car, and we biked around a lot, among fields of grain..<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRCe4lABa3OcoFhCgRfJMXHpOn7BCfP9smkoaYQ34TB3YMePj-BwUfsE-cSbq5WNYTqee1v3ZCvl6L__Vym51xIQ1vsEukSuqEnUxN4_9rExcu-D7FtMs24YnrgZECKP1d4qEq6Q/s1600-h/IMG_5615.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 277px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRCe4lABa3OcoFhCgRfJMXHpOn7BCfP9smkoaYQ34TB3YMePj-BwUfsE-cSbq5WNYTqee1v3ZCvl6L__Vym51xIQ1vsEukSuqEnUxN4_9rExcu-D7FtMs24YnrgZECKP1d4qEq6Q/s400/IMG_5615.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5421927412120362434" border="0" /></a>.. beautiful sunsets...<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0aMRMZYQ-E6x8EVQJwwL4NH_IATeqeKvhNtuitW-QZa-s4mH5CDX2z3ztA8idRX0AA9Pr7uy0196uSlWItkB9ztTX6GF-odnI_aJ0Lx-TD0anspyDP7b0N4ZlMh1SxgHihB_K2w/s1600-h/IMG_5619.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0aMRMZYQ-E6x8EVQJwwL4NH_IATeqeKvhNtuitW-QZa-s4mH5CDX2z3ztA8idRX0AA9Pr7uy0196uSlWItkB9ztTX6GF-odnI_aJ0Lx-TD0anspyDP7b0N4ZlMh1SxgHihB_K2w/s400/IMG_5619.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5421927416627587250" border="0" /></a>.. and of course a few visits to the town of Idaho Falls, which hosts one of the most impressive Mormon temples I've ever seen in my life.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaPtGSusQCnuUvwe-dqyVWg8tVL1lHzpedeiiTflKtIMHkUKEvd1oDJ5i0TX-aQtzfCu71OpMi-U2wNijDosg9MxYgsAG5oNXryRWcZjdenhpBb5rdmM43FbSnKUQBtFimjwH_EQ/s1600-h/IMG_5618.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 290px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaPtGSusQCnuUvwe-dqyVWg8tVL1lHzpedeiiTflKtIMHkUKEvd1oDJ5i0TX-aQtzfCu71OpMi-U2wNijDosg9MxYgsAG5oNXryRWcZjdenhpBb5rdmM43FbSnKUQBtFimjwH_EQ/s400/IMG_5618.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5421927427647055554" border="0" /></a><br />I really enjoyed visiting the places of Matt's childhood and young-adult life. For example, we tried the formerly known '<span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 204);">The Blue Room</span>' burger place (the name changed with ownership, but people still call it by the older name). This dark dive makes the best hamburgers I ever tasted in my life. In fact, before trying them, I never knew hamburgers could be actually good. After this life-changing experience I even find myself craving hamburgers, and being really frustrated because I have yet to find a competitor. What is the Blue Room's secret? In Matt's opinion, a cheap, spongy bun (which emulsifies with the fat on the tongue), warmed on the grill before stuffing it, and very greasy meat.<br /><br />We also tried <span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 204);">Reed</span>'s ice cream. Made with fresh whole milk and <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Huckleberry">huckleberries</a>, it was a delight after a long day of biking around. All these things we had to try before leaving, and the possibility of enjoying of Matt's mom's company (and of her venison) made us delay our departure of a few days.<br /><br />Before leaving, I took a few pictures of her house, made from stacks of logs, each cut to match the natural shape of the one underneath. It is really beautiful and unique both outside..<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJO73Fim45CpANLbzYHiuW2aih9r9iMtXPc_iCEpmIDqHPtNa_snNtk2_aF2wkZHT42_4wYOYZrdThMIyes1hgjvJaQL4P8HdWSjq2iMmbgUtbtPbNd6TJVlPkU3tBMmPqzNvihg/s1600-h/IMG_5622.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJO73Fim45CpANLbzYHiuW2aih9r9iMtXPc_iCEpmIDqHPtNa_snNtk2_aF2wkZHT42_4wYOYZrdThMIyes1hgjvJaQL4P8HdWSjq2iMmbgUtbtPbNd6TJVlPkU3tBMmPqzNvihg/s400/IMG_5622.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5421927429227409442" border="0" /></a>..and inside.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEga8wBib1KexfXHm85ceh_97mhE9NjiCCICdmOhqRXALGGukP60oKXV9Y8Z8KL4jo5NzNuRRvkvNA-OERYHTpK7IJeUl-y2QmrvA7p_0sWgQjlhHUMqfHP0u7Agtxjybr-k2EmbTg/s1600-h/IMG_5631.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEga8wBib1KexfXHm85ceh_97mhE9NjiCCICdmOhqRXALGGukP60oKXV9Y8Z8KL4jo5NzNuRRvkvNA-OERYHTpK7IJeUl-y2QmrvA7p_0sWgQjlhHUMqfHP0u7Agtxjybr-k2EmbTg/s400/IMG_5631.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5421927440569543810" border="0" /></a><br />Back on the road, I took a few more images of these beautiful fields and immense blue skies, which open the heart and make you feel a sense of awe and infinite possibility, maybe similar to what hundreds of years ago some explorers felt.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwzkhrclSyC8Nj2PDT8fE_AUhRGkNpoHIvwmwCK_uln_v_KaeMHb6pjmNMM5ntOHkKfFZeGY092OukZr_O_2LbmT7L6REP0KJVNc2GKlM0SVBUn4pEwWTLzbDywSMppnP9L0CfMw/s1600-h/IMG_5641.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 272px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwzkhrclSyC8Nj2PDT8fE_AUhRGkNpoHIvwmwCK_uln_v_KaeMHb6pjmNMM5ntOHkKfFZeGY092OukZr_O_2LbmT7L6REP0KJVNc2GKlM0SVBUn4pEwWTLzbDywSMppnP9L0CfMw/s400/IMG_5641.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5421935856781177586" border="0" /></a>Now I know why Matt from time to time says he misses the sky, here in Montreal.<br /><br />After not too long, the road started descending through <span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">Swan Valley</span>.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjy0xaR8ASOROQ1QzgyqEfWvgcAw3iuKvyxYYd0Y2imxLWGivzrFZc3tEIurm-KihU9sLIu1E0qjViJgPmlew69fcObY_8HFk0ChW8qcOSFLVMs7ho2GbDC74GAX8x7hQ-cCVuEgw/s1600-h/IMG_5646.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjy0xaR8ASOROQ1QzgyqEfWvgcAw3iuKvyxYYd0Y2imxLWGivzrFZc3tEIurm-KihU9sLIu1E0qjViJgPmlew69fcObY_8HFk0ChW8qcOSFLVMs7ho2GbDC74GAX8x7hQ-cCVuEgw/s400/IMG_5646.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5421935863798864898" border="0" /></a>It's a beautiful, lush and peaceful valley..<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhNS_QZyJRxPfAzsQutcoZLjU-vImEeFRP_QrGRwRMy9evHf0-ntuy2jGgjPltoTht5S-82ZvGK-kt1C_WHRfoBfc8WZYVU4jqqeSCSp_Y8todnQNk0Z4a108LBiIMVEB954PHzA/s1600-h/IMG_5647.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 256px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhNS_QZyJRxPfAzsQutcoZLjU-vImEeFRP_QrGRwRMy9evHf0-ntuy2jGgjPltoTht5S-82ZvGK-kt1C_WHRfoBfc8WZYVU4jqqeSCSp_Y8todnQNk0Z4a108LBiIMVEB954PHzA/s400/IMG_5647.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5421935868618120674" border="0" /></a>..crossed by a river.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbCdgLONYTse07_xKERPCIXBV4gIopQaqy8OyBWcsKacUfXWZhgTdOA61DPsCtjHvBUN2VGZTZcpvRUXY5FNSt5Ai-vfG5z3Et5-lOgIicuvRNAow4BaDaWUIXmd9yhAGn50XHlg/s1600-h/IMG_5651.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbCdgLONYTse07_xKERPCIXBV4gIopQaqy8OyBWcsKacUfXWZhgTdOA61DPsCtjHvBUN2VGZTZcpvRUXY5FNSt5Ai-vfG5z3Et5-lOgIicuvRNAow4BaDaWUIXmd9yhAGn50XHlg/s400/IMG_5651.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5421935879962710770" border="0" /></a>It would have been nice to stop the car and go for a walk, or even better, a bike ride (there's a nice little 'around the block', 126 mile loop starting here). However, we wanted to get to the National Parks.<br /><br />So, here we are getting close to <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Teton</span> pass. I just couldn't get over the vastness of these landscapes.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG0a9peJ5p85YUQyU2P__N0KaLvSxq5ke7yTV5t0K8nlYAdivoOqQ0IrTP7N5773GjJJvBxvxGqFCZA2GuW6IRDp1rcP5w3JiuHVDorkokEMdG1tX46oyqiP6w-rmgdsBtRchSTQ/s1600-h/IMG_5655.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG0a9peJ5p85YUQyU2P__N0KaLvSxq5ke7yTV5t0K8nlYAdivoOqQ0IrTP7N5773GjJJvBxvxGqFCZA2GuW6IRDp1rcP5w3JiuHVDorkokEMdG1tX46oyqiP6w-rmgdsBtRchSTQ/s400/IMG_5655.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5421935884147214082" border="0" /></a><br />On the top of <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Teton</span> Pass:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhb2h4xxcGMh3myCTM0ve_MDE5G_8XHiud3-h653k4QWQ95JZilEfA55MUQwgaSoK5sV1zmIHhkv3OdU8Iz5BMz4ByXM-VAJ09ShuDq52ByHub19jaCJqedcdwFHFddX9s2Ir4vXA/s1600-h/IMG_5659.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhb2h4xxcGMh3myCTM0ve_MDE5G_8XHiud3-h653k4QWQ95JZilEfA55MUQwgaSoK5sV1zmIHhkv3OdU8Iz5BMz4ByXM-VAJ09ShuDq52ByHub19jaCJqedcdwFHFddX9s2Ir4vXA/s400/IMG_5659.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5421955011267210002" border="0" /></a>And finally, the <span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">Grand Tetons</span> appeared.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1X4rd5NCwmfob4AgPakWZDgFcuhIDBpL0nxEOFx0fTJ1RZU2kOpbNz_PboofaGa4qo_4Di4HiApkyfxXnkSxegH7UbtsHh1TZqWfsxTATNLjanCMG4dV7QE70mjTKTRtfd2CnIQ/s1600-h/IMG_5672.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1X4rd5NCwmfob4AgPakWZDgFcuhIDBpL0nxEOFx0fTJ1RZU2kOpbNz_PboofaGa4qo_4Di4HiApkyfxXnkSxegH7UbtsHh1TZqWfsxTATNLjanCMG4dV7QE70mjTKTRtfd2CnIQ/s400/IMG_5672.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5421955017142475906" border="0" /></a>We entered the park, and stopped at <span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">Jenny Lake</span>.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRK-J8Z5djOobc8PElaF2Ngddapgsy_dg1DT40mdRYMXA91yH_OTwAFl1RaWdAKDF8Vya8HDY_yLqxAjy8ZL3cEb92In4ywh854FbHH0xfBv-84h7vJR2KS3QUL1pV5XDWOXwm9g/s1600-h/IMG_5678.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRK-J8Z5djOobc8PElaF2Ngddapgsy_dg1DT40mdRYMXA91yH_OTwAFl1RaWdAKDF8Vya8HDY_yLqxAjy8ZL3cEb92In4ywh854FbHH0xfBv-84h7vJR2KS3QUL1pV5XDWOXwm9g/s400/IMG_5678.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5421955027845644786" border="0" /></a>The water was really clear, with green accents. A jewel.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitY4v7fSoFxB69LvcucclbcTrlvNh-54SRTY7Y34e2dCjE0U-OwmKzexxgPKq2HrwqApLeJ75-u26LJeweRAs39kGYHHGBGvMd571WMqca66T5IlshiSEz8RuY3u6URXnMONqRFg/s1600-h/IMG_5689.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitY4v7fSoFxB69LvcucclbcTrlvNh-54SRTY7Y34e2dCjE0U-OwmKzexxgPKq2HrwqApLeJ75-u26LJeweRAs39kGYHHGBGvMd571WMqca66T5IlshiSEz8RuY3u6URXnMONqRFg/s400/IMG_5689.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5421955028651490370" border="0" /></a>Let me just show you a picture of happy Matt.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBapgnx_sF4GmE1ibG1DaVtJIgwItVH6HBOqUXItRXqTDI6O02RY_yzBjAhT3lxWLsXbM1r0LalgzgjDP9v6z1drB7tFXojVlIpt5DO0KzILgH0GUPjlpXkIz5429ykseEZAFaPw/s1600-h/IMG_5683.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBapgnx_sF4GmE1ibG1DaVtJIgwItVH6HBOqUXItRXqTDI6O02RY_yzBjAhT3lxWLsXbM1r0LalgzgjDP9v6z1drB7tFXojVlIpt5DO0KzILgH0GUPjlpXkIz5429ykseEZAFaPw/s400/IMG_5683.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5421955035022002194" border="0" /></a><br />I took a few pictures of the giants while going away. Seeing them is amazing, maybe also because they are the only really high mountains in the area, and they dominate the landscape.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrF8i4Wy9VJHiBWvVAhD5_dZozp-KEN-nZFgJANHzOUsLwk3WmTttgPJZAQzt-VE5v7jMf4N7oDKpy_ktKFnMFVi93-Fln1eBHVI7i8OVFoO9R4JykhBRmh0LKnDmRCzQPV784Mw/s1600-h/IMG_5692.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 253px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrF8i4Wy9VJHiBWvVAhD5_dZozp-KEN-nZFgJANHzOUsLwk3WmTttgPJZAQzt-VE5v7jMf4N7oDKpy_ktKFnMFVi93-Fln1eBHVI7i8OVFoO9R4JykhBRmh0LKnDmRCzQPV784Mw/s400/IMG_5692.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5421960566631785938" border="0" /></a>A detail of a glacier.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjS_Q8JSAqHgAm_FTgoaDovc8DIaW8rPAhqQTfBHDHNvKguT4Kyv1aJFGPEZpILBaulxGF3tLcSDRSc5Yd1MqRINAE08JXUeKS7YyOV5dKEIHd2JS-An1TvYIA3VUBY1hw-YtqOqg/s1600-h/IMG_5695.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjS_Q8JSAqHgAm_FTgoaDovc8DIaW8rPAhqQTfBHDHNvKguT4Kyv1aJFGPEZpILBaulxGF3tLcSDRSc5Yd1MqRINAE08JXUeKS7YyOV5dKEIHd2JS-An1TvYIA3VUBY1hw-YtqOqg/s400/IMG_5695.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5421960573463565074" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">Grand <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">Teton</span> National Park </span>continues into <span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">Yellowstone National Park</span>, which by itself contains enough attractions for three or four national parks.<br /><br />At the beginning, Yellowstone Park shows beautiful mountainous scenery.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_rbxXJAJkLnn8WD9V7jut9iUVCyS0Qwd_R-EUV6J0WK0BxRQYGQJkCBA0DkQEvbxi9UxvZIIHNyt4_2Ek_GnL_jOKOKwMlHqXoQQ6GCotRM4ANvX8XrngRru56nYCWg0xbiJphA/s1600-h/IMG_5700.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_rbxXJAJkLnn8WD9V7jut9iUVCyS0Qwd_R-EUV6J0WK0BxRQYGQJkCBA0DkQEvbxi9UxvZIIHNyt4_2Ek_GnL_jOKOKwMlHqXoQQ6GCotRM4ANvX8XrngRru56nYCWg0xbiJphA/s400/IMG_5700.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5421960580231058178" border="0" /></a>.. and large, clear lakes.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTtOyad4l5bhq7y49Xdwwg98saUpNDJxLK0R9BwF9g7fXRByLruRXXRzeORdWh3fmJHD7IN0hcLrL8rlXoBVeECOSD0cShp_xI-PYU8ZsuUR8eKdSxQbz7r3BaK_xRCS5p_xOwig/s1600-h/IMG_5701.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTtOyad4l5bhq7y49Xdwwg98saUpNDJxLK0R9BwF9g7fXRByLruRXXRzeORdWh3fmJHD7IN0hcLrL8rlXoBVeECOSD0cShp_xI-PYU8ZsuUR8eKdSxQbz7r3BaK_xRCS5p_xOwig/s400/IMG_5701.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5421960582682905586" border="0" /></a><br />But pretty soon, you realize that in this pretty scenery something really unique is hidden: gurgling hot pools of sulphurous water!<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmn9ci36VybjsH9cGDHaIafQY-JQHgH_cm36lE5MkNtbdOF9c-GigCBI_HvTMv7obqG50emyMxe_082J_kM0dQSiUmi3Kazk5LhwUojXjK5pYJHphaOXKVORzDQDtdl8e1glbXag/s1600-h/IMG_5705.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmn9ci36VybjsH9cGDHaIafQY-JQHgH_cm36lE5MkNtbdOF9c-GigCBI_HvTMv7obqG50emyMxe_082J_kM0dQSiUmi3Kazk5LhwUojXjK5pYJHphaOXKVORzDQDtdl8e1glbXag/s400/IMG_5705.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5421960593904927986" border="0" /></a><br />These are inhabited by bacteria that can survive really high temperature, acidity, and sulphur concentration. These amazing creatures create vivid colors in the water, so that a landscape that could seem taken straight from a medieval representation of hell actually becomes pretty and attractive.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgflRQi4lTFAS_DaBthNPUjGBm3RNUurMqtdNmmN01GUolxkufeyOWJWbI3zsd66g_oQloBZQTAkVOv9hYHP2jwR2z-iARYKOseEnBsfVubLD3uYALV9kxdMxL9k7uOuIOsYBkFvA/s1600-h/IMG_5712.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgflRQi4lTFAS_DaBthNPUjGBm3RNUurMqtdNmmN01GUolxkufeyOWJWbI3zsd66g_oQloBZQTAkVOv9hYHP2jwR2z-iARYKOseEnBsfVubLD3uYALV9kxdMxL9k7uOuIOsYBkFvA/s400/IMG_5712.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5421964908005546242" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmE46aYF40T3hmCq0P-Bhg2KLG9kxhKBknAQQye-eax_cuyQhFf6tPz2WWLe0dLvWcJBMYgV3fSnECpexX1Zahvl5ai_sfaNff8Knd3kHSnZ5pw4cVcuQZa5dpJGhO3LcdAqc0Sg/s1600-h/IMG_5713.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmE46aYF40T3hmCq0P-Bhg2KLG9kxhKBknAQQye-eax_cuyQhFf6tPz2WWLe0dLvWcJBMYgV3fSnECpexX1Zahvl5ai_sfaNff8Knd3kHSnZ5pw4cVcuQZa5dpJGhO3LcdAqc0Sg/s400/IMG_5713.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5421964914265232242" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGVjzblAOOQX7fcCdp6aXZJF7b1Jc-8xskMEuVC4l99EqpVm2r_IET0JEA9xzullWNODpQZGDhmN9ihqYZc68PXos5-8e4S0N7-qpycsx7i6jxKuXRNXkDvRhIET1xA4vhyphenhyphentPAuw/s1600-h/IMG_5716.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGVjzblAOOQX7fcCdp6aXZJF7b1Jc-8xskMEuVC4l99EqpVm2r_IET0JEA9xzullWNODpQZGDhmN9ihqYZc68PXos5-8e4S0N7-qpycsx7i6jxKuXRNXkDvRhIET1xA4vhyphenhyphentPAuw/s400/IMG_5716.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5421964921647585474" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEWebYA-XTRM5aYz7ujkJjISLTSwhepEbf6PMYnMJu81O_FoOlnOSz8TQGa20DR2-PCcAzSNCuaVFcGWeuA0eYcOX6LRLgr7V0iCZdjxJQ3HFPTFQCKuDrqgv1I2Q6r4IeqFAYew/s1600-h/IMG_5727.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEWebYA-XTRM5aYz7ujkJjISLTSwhepEbf6PMYnMJu81O_FoOlnOSz8TQGa20DR2-PCcAzSNCuaVFcGWeuA0eYcOX6LRLgr7V0iCZdjxJQ3HFPTFQCKuDrqgv1I2Q6r4IeqFAYew/s400/IMG_5727.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5421964931668292098" border="0" /></a>These are called something like 'The paint pots'.<br /><br />These weird pools filled with hot and smelly water are just a few meters from this beautiful bay.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSRKqFywXUMDgRjCzD8g8225eXN1pxJeKsWXOrN7eybKl6NVxb1lyT6DyM7OY7prYRFf2gRyzNIgwDYtesx6pmH9seS9qWiB6X6jl33sO3ewJI8TLY9RLc1NO2x_EPoOYQuAT1UA/s1600-h/IMG_5719.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSRKqFywXUMDgRjCzD8g8225eXN1pxJeKsWXOrN7eybKl6NVxb1lyT6DyM7OY7prYRFf2gRyzNIgwDYtesx6pmH9seS9qWiB6X6jl33sO3ewJI8TLY9RLc1NO2x_EPoOYQuAT1UA/s400/IMG_5719.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5421964933838001074" border="0" /></a>The whole bay was actually created by a volcanic eruption, and quite a lot of activity is still going on.<br /><br />As we drove, we spotted a huge geiser eruption on the opposite side of the lake we were on. I managed to get a picture of the last of it.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDL-IuHcVMKNZyq2EffuuseLSw9RuNTaDqL2ql9GlCx72hQETdsOev0srL402rA-hCsqGs1rssFPyrDfIQKC93Qarkshj-WSkeRK_12yI4kn31aE7B1fnbJy_h1gZkEuIarb3UUQ/s1600-h/IMG_5742.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 234px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDL-IuHcVMKNZyq2EffuuseLSw9RuNTaDqL2ql9GlCx72hQETdsOev0srL402rA-hCsqGs1rssFPyrDfIQKC93Qarkshj-WSkeRK_12yI4kn31aE7B1fnbJy_h1gZkEuIarb3UUQ/s400/IMG_5742.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5421966292862520306" border="0" /></a>Our next stop was at the 'Mud volcano'. The way there borders this pretty, peaceful river in a valley.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkAHKD-yaClymzuDUjJbLcXlMzt8tmLFGJl_zOax5KDoESFpUkPVeOQUQnSLLgtsor3RJXqM22UjooQgckfEx4KTVTEG1Vn1Wx-lLrPrqtkuKAX_mapMGkGlxVw1jPuTozF6nkvA/s1600-h/IMG_5748.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkAHKD-yaClymzuDUjJbLcXlMzt8tmLFGJl_zOax5KDoESFpUkPVeOQUQnSLLgtsor3RJXqM22UjooQgckfEx4KTVTEG1Vn1Wx-lLrPrqtkuKAX_mapMGkGlxVw1jPuTozF6nkvA/s400/IMG_5748.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5421966293597106994" border="0" /></a>But right before getting to the volcano, you start seeing something unusal: really colorful vegetation that borders a small bubbly lake.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjD4FdtiBb1w572dSGf-DGsyVLVmk3WKtKqv9O9w7IWiw1TF4lHBedXs1wsggqKCDwNBp01QbwL6wh24NKLbSSZeiCxXA_53ZqG94TedM-bO7NIZus3tqFXUDKS2SS3G_5wpkZSHg/s1600-h/IMG_5752.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjD4FdtiBb1w572dSGf-DGsyVLVmk3WKtKqv9O9w7IWiw1TF4lHBedXs1wsggqKCDwNBp01QbwL6wh24NKLbSSZeiCxXA_53ZqG94TedM-bO7NIZus3tqFXUDKS2SS3G_5wpkZSHg/s400/IMG_5752.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5421966302070912530" border="0" /></a>Pretty soon some noises and a stink of sulphur makes you understand you're there:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijCBIG23cLOpTN2hVOYKlP6mQBbGzgolNbhQG7x0wM_fo91Phr9kAxdCqK2BRmnNvyIMurUZV3IGLe4u76SCkazHaTgP2JBmElUMWYqAgt1RKm7YkeM9gTuCt83y6PxdAhAIRc-A/s1600-h/IMG_5760.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijCBIG23cLOpTN2hVOYKlP6mQBbGzgolNbhQG7x0wM_fo91Phr9kAxdCqK2BRmnNvyIMurUZV3IGLe4u76SCkazHaTgP2JBmElUMWYqAgt1RKm7YkeM9gTuCt83y6PxdAhAIRc-A/s400/IMG_5760.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5421966303982354706" border="0" /></a>I have a small movie of it, so you can feel a little bit closer to it.<br /><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dyS_d_1QlmW4MXmnhuD48Ynl7huczfU3GGf9DwgDfXa0vlVcNy4TEzBBe-CllOXqVd1t-EjnfKha6s' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe><br /><br />We walked around the area for a while, and saw quite a few more of these hot sulphur lakes.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfXQUDAfSCqUz09qECKRIASCZw1LXnLNqv9rH4pOWKXDs43QYtzYP0O5mNGhB_F7aJZSVXn5pJ986srFgDFIjCRo9vRNNivyHvAFglVom9v8qgAP8jqqigxrb7EXr1oKhmW0-pxQ/s1600-h/IMG_5765.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfXQUDAfSCqUz09qECKRIASCZw1LXnLNqv9rH4pOWKXDs43QYtzYP0O5mNGhB_F7aJZSVXn5pJ986srFgDFIjCRo9vRNNivyHvAFglVom9v8qgAP8jqqigxrb7EXr1oKhmW0-pxQ/s400/IMG_5765.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5421966307171787922" border="0" /></a>The area will keep changing, as some of these lakes will become less active and some more, unpredictably. It's quite impressive to see and think about, in the middle of the otherwise peaceful scenery.<br /><br />In front of the 'Mud volcano' was the 'Sulphur caldron'. You would think no one would want to go close to a 'sulphur caldron', right? However, look at who was there.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3DWE80tIUZCT5YaEEvXoWpS0njqI7ZzQ-80mTlByIVex0yISBUm4amGkXfN9bxUl9lbhe6UOwMgwdlQ7Tz2gsMhNPJhIQPBtAQzjJFSk_PX9bNqnTHqbryqzylJR_7xhgcEepbA/s1600-h/IMG_5776.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 262px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3DWE80tIUZCT5YaEEvXoWpS0njqI7ZzQ-80mTlByIVex0yISBUm4amGkXfN9bxUl9lbhe6UOwMgwdlQ7Tz2gsMhNPJhIQPBtAQzjJFSk_PX9bNqnTHqbryqzylJR_7xhgcEepbA/s400/IMG_5776.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5421970423412597746" border="0" /></a>A bison! I never saw one in my life before Yellowstone Park.<br /><br />However, just a few meters after the cauldron, we entered a plain plain full of them. An amazing show.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUXpQXTr47VJMWUSghWPNkhBygBB1-XkDE4ijSixOSrA1Jw2bxtRiv9qbyeP3TuPJQicSEg4RUOfzqaEpKjz4t3a5VpvE6tXMDBZa5vsQQe4lC8KHgiYvxY8NQnXJPhyUL5_D-QQ/s1600-h/IMG_5778.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUXpQXTr47VJMWUSghWPNkhBygBB1-XkDE4ijSixOSrA1Jw2bxtRiv9qbyeP3TuPJQicSEg4RUOfzqaEpKjz4t3a5VpvE6tXMDBZa5vsQQe4lC8KHgiYvxY8NQnXJPhyUL5_D-QQ/s400/IMG_5778.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5421970428268744658" border="0" /></a>Here's one close up<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMeC-CY31i6r0iSv90OMzaDOCW1pPsWmCQXKY1ZepHm3BRqeh4U2gBZm2PNaXQm7ziOlD0DM1DMPfK9gbHd2GBTvJzdq1S86kb2_O6ZELNI6rRy7wY9C0a9jDZvX3yS509V3sweQ/s1600-h/IMG_5745.JPG">:<img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 289px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMeC-CY31i6r0iSv90OMzaDOCW1pPsWmCQXKY1ZepHm3BRqeh4U2gBZm2PNaXQm7ziOlD0DM1DMPfK9gbHd2GBTvJzdq1S86kb2_O6ZELNI6rRy7wY9C0a9jDZvX3yS509V3sweQ/s400/IMG_5745.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5421970432803636882" border="0" /></a><br />Sulphurous lakes, geysers, mud volcanoes, bison. Just when you think you've seen everything, Yellowstone park discloses one of its most beautiful jewels: its own Grand Canyon.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4erPZTEtFpo1tlFHh5MdDMMpGZf481kQNVEcCQqla2AwafUQzXR_Vesr-vTCGKSKtPL39quUI44ugNV9-yJqIjIH4dlPbVLmG0UgN-HXvKnAt3290rDD87jdWfaWYTY8Wzyzt7g/s1600-h/IMG_5791.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4erPZTEtFpo1tlFHh5MdDMMpGZf481kQNVEcCQqla2AwafUQzXR_Vesr-vTCGKSKtPL39quUI44ugNV9-yJqIjIH4dlPbVLmG0UgN-HXvKnAt3290rDD87jdWfaWYTY8Wzyzt7g/s400/IMG_5791.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5421970438097621810" border="0" /></a>It was almost sunset when we arrived there, and the reddish color of the rocks forming the canyons was very vivid.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEw4edBBMfBNZ0Gbiz69jV3zlD1Mmw1M0t-8VL5FgaE8Bbj6t9kgGPm3_G2g5YFYRa6cEQmoBGG-lf2aQsu2PMhDeZtpia5a9uo8Dz3Lx_dPdj1j6WuiXWWhhSawVPokybSiXHpA/s1600-h/IMG_5795.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEw4edBBMfBNZ0Gbiz69jV3zlD1Mmw1M0t-8VL5FgaE8Bbj6t9kgGPm3_G2g5YFYRa6cEQmoBGG-lf2aQsu2PMhDeZtpia5a9uo8Dz3Lx_dPdj1j6WuiXWWhhSawVPokybSiXHpA/s400/IMG_5795.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5421970444964492466" border="0" /></a>We kept driving through the park in the evening, and left it at the East entrance. The landscape remained beautiful even at night: We saw lakes lit by the moon reflecting into their water, and going through <span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">Bighorn National Forest</span>, the dark shapes of tall rocks towering over us. We wanted to get to I-90 and stop at some motel along the highway; However, around 1 a.m., we suddenly found out that the road we were on stopped, almost at the end of Bighorn Forest. We weren't the only ones caught by this sudden interruption: There must have been a hidden sign quite a few miles before, which nobody saw. We really didn't want to have to go back on the winding roads so late at night, so we stayed at a motel that fortunately (mm.. was it by chance...) was just there at the road interruption.<br /><br />The morning after we saw few more towering rocks, although less dense than before--we had passed most of them at night.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBZB3-bjOVREa6ypnX23EjSMYvUy06z2JlPNBffBIwF6D93RCxGeePd1B5_sIGmz4Nmx57cgzBPNC92zmT7BoUUqg-NoZMjb90znRiTcyLADfQdoSGn3ek_DL06GfN5EWH6hFDtw/s1600-h/IMG_5817.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 265px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBZB3-bjOVREa6ypnX23EjSMYvUy06z2JlPNBffBIwF6D93RCxGeePd1B5_sIGmz4Nmx57cgzBPNC92zmT7BoUUqg-NoZMjb90znRiTcyLADfQdoSGn3ek_DL06GfN5EWH6hFDtw/s400/IMG_5817.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5421985148953705202" border="0" /></a>We drove for about an hour still on the mountains, and then finally hit I-90. For quite a while the landscape in North <span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">Wyoming</span> remained pretty flat and uninteresting.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtdN0SH2gbSd6xFE-TD4a7_Tq7qHzXaJ9eO8-9ePEAXWZn7UMmR3KM-cc1jeHSiNVmaSFPUY43ck-WZkR6d5Hb-6z-YWbLI75sj2OYawo11mo8aYPf7naG7Z3mSI6oxPZ6YCvULQ/s1600-h/IMG_5825.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 256px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtdN0SH2gbSd6xFE-TD4a7_Tq7qHzXaJ9eO8-9ePEAXWZn7UMmR3KM-cc1jeHSiNVmaSFPUY43ck-WZkR6d5Hb-6z-YWbLI75sj2OYawo11mo8aYPf7naG7Z3mSI6oxPZ6YCvULQ/s400/IMG_5825.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5421985154811413234" border="0" /></a>It got better again in <span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">Black Hills National Forest</span>, where some pretty lakes cheered us up.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5L5cJStnWapymCmlUEj8A4UE-PSaJn3ZCghXBwL1whaHQnTMEfO0kwdXO9CcUPqVZcwA8kbNXC_WweucJopFLvGve9uhB1Ucew57fGSHORrDA_Tuygqgs7wcdUXzluDuVgIEguQ/s1600-h/IMG_5829.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5L5cJStnWapymCmlUEj8A4UE-PSaJn3ZCghXBwL1whaHQnTMEfO0kwdXO9CcUPqVZcwA8kbNXC_WweucJopFLvGve9uhB1Ucew57fGSHORrDA_Tuygqgs7wcdUXzluDuVgIEguQ/s400/IMG_5829.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5421985161730857522" border="0" /></a>At this point, we were looking forward to seeing <span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">Mount Rushmore</span>. This is the most famous monument in the USA, a mountain where huge heads of four presidents are sculpted. A "symbol of freedom" according to every guidebook.<br /><br />However.. I'm sorry, I know I will dissapoint and maybe offend someone by saying this, but I don't think I've ever seen something more kitchy, awkward and plain ugly!<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiTkKnlLjJxiMjHclT6uEeR_OtSK44CGpUhctvULTbELRC6qGBM2EjblZaBaHKOvuWPoVw4TyQRSYe4EnCbC_OUs-p8SN8MbEBMarf_Y4hlCKtHxgEQdswe9EDtOBt50nn8UCqqg/s1600-h/IMG_5833.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 271px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiTkKnlLjJxiMjHclT6uEeR_OtSK44CGpUhctvULTbELRC6qGBM2EjblZaBaHKOvuWPoVw4TyQRSYe4EnCbC_OUs-p8SN8MbEBMarf_Y4hlCKtHxgEQdswe9EDtOBt50nn8UCqqg/s400/IMG_5833.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5421985169582502306" border="0" /></a>They look like caricatures. What's with the tight-lip smile on Thomas Jefferson (second from left)? I won't comment on the others' expressions. Seeing these huge things in the middle of a forest is particularly weird. And they are surrounded, obviously, by the mother of all tourist traps. That's right, they actually trap tourists (in traps made from sticky caramel), and then sell their watches and flag lapel pins as souvenirs. (Good thing we weren't wearing either.) [last two sentences added by Matt]. I'm not sure why this monument is considered so beautiful and symbolic. It just ruins the majesty of the scenary, and I wonder if the presidents would have liked their faces dominating these forests.<br /><br />We drove on, and for fifty miles we saw a billboard every half a mile advertising '<span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">Wall Drug</span>'--we were promised we could see dinosaurs, jewels, paintings, horses, and have delicious ice cream and 5-cent coffee! It was a difficult offer to turn down after miles and miles of the desert plains of <span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">South Dakota</span>, even for those of us who pride ourselves in being resistant to advertising.<br /><br />Indeed, Wall Drug didn't disappoint, with the quality of humor evident on its welcome sign:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgTvBDQertocpdYdvUsn4_6i1HZk0K14Y_27fIXtsHD_FyD8W0f1UUd7urSEFULC28v4zBcgogNhoK8Lew1ltRAt6IySlrgQmZaGj_-kPaM6j8ns7wGDP0Zk4612F05IQhxvu5Tg/s1600-h/IMG_5837.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgTvBDQertocpdYdvUsn4_6i1HZk0K14Y_27fIXtsHD_FyD8W0f1UUd7urSEFULC28v4zBcgogNhoK8Lew1ltRAt6IySlrgQmZaGj_-kPaM6j8ns7wGDP0Zk4612F05IQhxvu5Tg/s400/IMG_5837.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5421985172003009426" border="0" /></a><br />It's a huge mall whose fortune started when Ms. Dorothy Hustead, the wife of the store's owner, decided to give out free ice water to attract the weary travelers through the surrounding deserts. It still attracts crowds disproportionate to the surrounding population. We got an ice cream from a Polish cashier, who was in South Dakota on exchange for the summer. We wondered aloud how she ended up there and asked if she liked it. She said that even though there wasn't much to do in Wall, at least she was saving money... Her suggested flavor of ice cream, chocolate, unfortunately didn't taste like chocolate at all!<br /><br />On the other hand, we liked this reproduction of Mount Rushmore just about as much as the real thing:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrxOBTDcprz1widKvLB0SS3NNiQoNay1JPX6HB31XsXQQ1N3I1WfsOmU_m2BZVOlboQTl8dxtUKvuueNFuQ0TqX6W0suutd3VSgA5yGwCnd6KHNiviveo56He6dFEi2CSgTmN4wA/s1600-h/IMG_5836.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrxOBTDcprz1widKvLB0SS3NNiQoNay1JPX6HB31XsXQQ1N3I1WfsOmU_m2BZVOlboQTl8dxtUKvuueNFuQ0TqX6W0suutd3VSgA5yGwCnd6KHNiviveo56He6dFEi2CSgTmN4wA/s400/IMG_5836.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5421997278703749762" border="0" /></a><br />We did enjoy the kitchy atmosphere of the store, and the free ice water. We left for a bike ride in the <span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">Buffalo Gap National Grasslands</span>, aiming for the <span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">Badlands</span>. However, the grasslands turned out to be a huge expanse of rolling hills swept by fierce winds. After half an hour of biking up and down the hills, we decided to turn back and get a final glass of free ice water at Wall Drug before driving away.<br /><br />This stop was quite pleasant, especially because for the rest of the day the landscape was rather bleak. We spent the night at a hotel at <span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">Mitchell</span>, South Dakota, where we were given an executive suite without any increase in price.<br /><br />We continued driving the next day through similar desert. Luckily, however, I realized when I was in Mitchell that we could stop in <span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">Madison, Wisconsin</span>, to stay with a friend of mine. Madison is known as the 'Berkeley of the midwest'. We arrived too late to discover much of it, but we saw a huge crowd of young kids leaving a football game, and visited some of the downtown at night with my friend.<br /><br />We left her in the morning, and drove through <span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">Illinois </span>and <span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">Chicago</span>. We decided it wasn't worth stopping there, since both of us had seen this city already. However, here is a shot of the skyscrapers.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_PfJwlVqNbrKjfsCrA-5Pb95IiA75XKxgUM0_CloP5l40D-ynV0kHV2lAYGwkVkCwKVgI7_WGImH7ntPL0FQtjgwUwGCowwSQ8TS7UIs2HefX7JQKcJyLRVG0m9MvjlZueBidMQ/s1600-h/IMG_5839.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 359px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_PfJwlVqNbrKjfsCrA-5Pb95IiA75XKxgUM0_CloP5l40D-ynV0kHV2lAYGwkVkCwKVgI7_WGImH7ntPL0FQtjgwUwGCowwSQ8TS7UIs2HefX7JQKcJyLRVG0m9MvjlZueBidMQ/s400/IMG_5839.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5421997288904766946" border="0" /></a><br />We stopped for a bike ride at <span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">Indiana Dunes National Lakeshore</span>, an interesting park with tall sand dunes on the shores of Lake Michigan, crowded with families having a good time.<br /><br />The day's highligh, however, was a stop in the small town of<span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"> South Bend, Indiana</span>. The part we drove through was full of Mexican businesses. We entered a restaurant and had the best restaurant food of the trip: authentic beef soup, tacos, refried beans.<br /><br />Nothing too interesting happened for the rest of the drive. We saw <span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">Cleveland </span>by night, which seemed like a nice city, and found a hotel quite late at night right after that.<br /><br />The day after was really only driving, with almost no stops. We switched from I-90 to I-86 in order to avoid some tolls, and later followed I-88 and I-87. We stayed for the night in upstate <span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">New York</span>, approximately 50 miles before the border with Canada.<br /><br />In the morning, we decided to take it easy and drive on the smaller highway 9 instead of I-87 for a while. The<span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"> Giant Mountain Park</span> we went through was really beautiful, with quaint little towns, and roads surrounded by green and lakes.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGfN-_wTjSxPDsJAmH6s1HcWiqVdFd6fKOdcjEjlkTzn0IhJbgIAfY8OQZMBLdWJtQDeleuYhSS_k5qWsxceez_RjRrP4xhWsvw7_WVbtTQiS2VXAIjmd3b-rFSu39URmXFWunRA/s1600-h/IMG_5844.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGfN-_wTjSxPDsJAmH6s1HcWiqVdFd6fKOdcjEjlkTzn0IhJbgIAfY8OQZMBLdWJtQDeleuYhSS_k5qWsxceez_RjRrP4xhWsvw7_WVbtTQiS2VXAIjmd3b-rFSu39URmXFWunRA/s400/IMG_5844.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5421997292928516066" border="0" /></a><br />Once in Plattsburgh, our travel through the USA was almost over. There was one more thing we needed to do before leaving the country: find a place to store our collection of alcohol! Matt had found some storage places in <span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">Champlain</span>, a few miles from the border. We entered one of them, and rented a mail box so we could keep a US address. With the mail box, we got free storage for all of our wine and liquor: The border mail owner didn't seem surprised at all by our request--we probably weren't the first ones asking for it... We took with us four bottles, which we knew we were allowed to carry without paying duties, and hoped we would be able to get back to the border and bring the rest to Montreal a little at a time.<br /><br />We crossed the border in the early afternoon and went through immigration and customs rather easily. What a relief compared to having to get a visa to enter the USA! No lines or appointment at the Embassy. Everything was done quite efficiently at the border.<br /><br />We drove almost all the way to Montreal, but hit rush hour traffic going into the city; so we decided to stop at an Asian mall that Matt spotted, and had a delicious Korean dinner. We also realized right away that thanks to this huge Asian grocery store we wouldn't be missing our share of Chinese greens, one of our favorite foods back in the Bay Area. This discovery made us quite happy--it almost felt like a small welcome from Canada.<br /><br />I will describe this mall in more details in a future post, because for now.. this is the end of the story! We entered <span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">Montreal </span>with a beautiful sunset, ten days after we left California.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvzxXIQmPK6WgVh_kRX5zkRe4PKfYYdBKznzJNT6eA_Tx4o0nub7FjcDENDAALh-rfqE5QkjUa72-vXRUHxO89dou-bM_pMNi4j20Icdtvb4jc02WvxNELhEktFr6qn8zFSlXn4g/s1600-h/IMG_5855.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 196px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvzxXIQmPK6WgVh_kRX5zkRe4PKfYYdBKznzJNT6eA_Tx4o0nub7FjcDENDAALh-rfqE5QkjUa72-vXRUHxO89dou-bM_pMNi4j20Icdtvb4jc02WvxNELhEktFr6qn8zFSlXn4g/s400/IMG_5855.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5421997298664804418" border="0" /></a>We found our hotel rather easily, and fell asleep in what was going to be 'our' city for a while.<br /><br />I really enjoyed this trip. Even though driving through some parts of the US wasn't exciting, especially without a radio in the car, it was an optimal way for me to experience the extent and diversity of the country that hosted me for more than four years. Visiting friends on the way was wonderful, enough by itself to justify the trip. Bringing our bikes with us and going around every once in a while was a wonderful idea that allowed us to stretch our legs and do some exercise almost every day. It was also a good experience for me and Matt: we were in the same cramped space all day for 10 days, and we managed to arrive on (better than!) speaking terms.<br /><br />Act I: An Italian in the US: Exuent stage north.<br />Act II: An Italian in Canada: [manuscript in progress]chemcookithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17675842171888658314noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21308831.post-40105739859607901792009-12-27T20:42:00.008-08:002010-02-07T10:13:32.914-08:00Viaggio in UmbriaIn this post I'll describe the trip to Umbria that I took with my family last summer. You may not believe it, but I had never been to this wonderful Italian region before, even though many foreigners coming to my home country add at least a one-day tour to Assisi during their visit. So, I was very much looking forward to this trip.<br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">Umbria</span> is also known as 'the green heart of Italy', due to its location and its luxurious vegetation.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.gocciaumbra.com/img2/mappa_italia.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 381px; height: 508px;" src="http://www.gocciaumbra.com/img2/mappa_italia.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>We split our stay in two cities: Orvieto and Perugia. You can see where they are more precisely here:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.agroitalia.info/country.house.castello.valenzino/mappa.umbria.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 358px; height: 373px;" src="http://www.agroitalia.info/country.house.castello.valenzino/mappa.umbria.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>My mom found some bed and breakfasts in these two towns. I highly recommend this type of lodging if you're traveling to Italy with a group of people. The apartments are usually really nice, and they are unbelievably inexpensive compared to hotels. Plus, they have a kitchen, so you don't have to eat out every meal if you don't want to. This was the main room of our B&B in Orvieto. There were two more rooms, with a single and a double bed.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDzjgw-mfOM4bFlnGPVYfst8aQRC-Dsr0GMJOcH0XWVhh0sNUW8crXlgypEgRGWPdayTacSYZSGqcQClMGsIATQUK3iLl3CWvgHDv-NuxppvZ90NFAXTHlwmV57M0GFZpBi-ra5Q/s1600-h/IMG_5327.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDzjgw-mfOM4bFlnGPVYfst8aQRC-Dsr0GMJOcH0XWVhh0sNUW8crXlgypEgRGWPdayTacSYZSGqcQClMGsIATQUK3iLl3CWvgHDv-NuxppvZ90NFAXTHlwmV57M0GFZpBi-ra5Q/s400/IMG_5327.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5399342646323759842" border="0" /></a>I fell in love with <span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">Orvieto</span>--after the whole trip I think it is one of the nicest cities in Umbria and maybe in Italy in general. It's built on top of a volcanic hill and you can see it in its splendor from many hills around. This is a picture I took on a bike ride going towards Bolsena lake. It's been on my computer desktop for the past three months.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtbTpi-KzmssH3E9hgiW7QwMVOvi_MmDbkV-zu9x78MpXm3vnoknUvH6fFoTiqWJ4XsKAH32zcdgsDRRZ1BHnbYfnM-055moqiHPTeuL1owAj7-Dhon7xctbPghvXi7cvvBZQNNg/s1600-h/IMG_5036.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtbTpi-KzmssH3E9hgiW7QwMVOvi_MmDbkV-zu9x78MpXm3vnoknUvH6fFoTiqWJ4XsKAH32zcdgsDRRZ1BHnbYfnM-055moqiHPTeuL1owAj7-Dhon7xctbPghvXi7cvvBZQNNg/s400/IMG_5036.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5399344863274560578" border="0" /></a>Orvieto has one of the most beautiful cathedrals in Italy. When you're close to it, you're in awe, anywhere you approach it from. Moreover, it changes color depending on the time of the day.<br />Here you can see it in its splendor over the city (look at the top center of the picture).<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhj0tnQf3QwwdoqxVXn88aZX1pz3IP-Cd4sBFapWvi7mV1fYBHPyRFles3SLiNWWY7YW1z7Z-ZFN2oYy5ewWLOBGv5gbUfC7idHUm7l2nrFxgt1u9dkNIX5r6n7LZW8EUgsQIvDwg/s1600-h/IMG_5038.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 141px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhj0tnQf3QwwdoqxVXn88aZX1pz3IP-Cd4sBFapWvi7mV1fYBHPyRFles3SLiNWWY7YW1z7Z-ZFN2oYy5ewWLOBGv5gbUfC7idHUm7l2nrFxgt1u9dkNIX5r6n7LZW8EUgsQIvDwg/s400/IMG_5038.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5401472109148855778" border="0" /></a>This is the facade in the morning...<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFl4XiiF4qL9DPRUNPr-8m1MWi6wtusea8Ai8V9tyQfvULSHHyAEyEk35x4AEhFgeTTMw0StkPUJNA9owiGafAtMxX_l6mAe8_paC_B2bC9yCB2rFseFsalr6qBNGyQz3NdwSRFA/s1600-h/IMG_4979.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFl4XiiF4qL9DPRUNPr-8m1MWi6wtusea8Ai8V9tyQfvULSHHyAEyEk35x4AEhFgeTTMw0StkPUJNA9owiGafAtMxX_l6mAe8_paC_B2bC9yCB2rFseFsalr6qBNGyQz3NdwSRFA/s400/IMG_4979.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5399348709862837634" border="0" /></a>..and here it is at sunset.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZe7n4oh5GYl0MsjqWaT7rtY-7htRENATkP7vO4WiFCxfrkNKMS4RbhMCS8mv1ea68uTJ8_6Umkksdf66Up3DU1JVagTfc4ns_eJSxLUzncuJnung-j80mpOpBKnB8P-gJJv1BuA/s1600-h/IMG_4990.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZe7n4oh5GYl0MsjqWaT7rtY-7htRENATkP7vO4WiFCxfrkNKMS4RbhMCS8mv1ea68uTJ8_6Umkksdf66Up3DU1JVagTfc4ns_eJSxLUzncuJnung-j80mpOpBKnB8P-gJJv1BuA/s400/IMG_4990.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5399348716607521330" border="0" /></a>Here are a few details: the eagle and the bull, symbols of the Evangelists John and Matthew, looking at us from the facade.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoiSb1gvkcGYZFj9Q9oQ6OTNkiN2HuWP7XWL26SsvCh2wpGpAvBtuEc76cBQSTHqqdQKdCwHdRtuGFXMDuiRmySspAybdGUGnNbJfHWCM1aA82_uZHWw0_1YYI78dNzpPPfnaeTQ/s1600-h/IMG_4971.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoiSb1gvkcGYZFj9Q9oQ6OTNkiN2HuWP7XWL26SsvCh2wpGpAvBtuEc76cBQSTHqqdQKdCwHdRtuGFXMDuiRmySspAybdGUGnNbJfHWCM1aA82_uZHWw0_1YYI78dNzpPPfnaeTQ/s400/IMG_4971.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5399348717636438658" border="0" /></a>Eve's creation, still on the facade.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWEwfwAjln2H_qhMbxO61rrGISKen8lhsyuYPXfVl0or2Uq8m7PbNG4Il2UNgE26QB474zutslmFIUiq2yY73dI1X7Mc8eY_wn7w7emUZJh2CteCTZ-PgHdiobQLqnfkMRmqBSUQ/s1600-h/IMG_4969.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWEwfwAjln2H_qhMbxO61rrGISKen8lhsyuYPXfVl0or2Uq8m7PbNG4Il2UNgE26QB474zutslmFIUiq2yY73dI1X7Mc8eY_wn7w7emUZJh2CteCTZ-PgHdiobQLqnfkMRmqBSUQ/s400/IMG_4969.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5399348721607567730" border="0" /></a>The central 'rosone', surrounded by sculptures and mosaics representing saints, and with the central Lamb (I took this pic from a store in front of the cathedral).<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsmF3oGq5tB7lJlG_AB-IZh9L8AZvqUdzeiVqUF35HVKnCxHM32p3I_XeYPktdHoQdzqzLb6h50tV2gNJUuE0UTFEzEVUvn_W-sKbaTE2ACUBC3MYuNtVunitS0khk-4HgW-C_Gg/s1600-h/IMG_5024.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsmF3oGq5tB7lJlG_AB-IZh9L8AZvqUdzeiVqUF35HVKnCxHM32p3I_XeYPktdHoQdzqzLb6h50tV2gNJUuE0UTFEzEVUvn_W-sKbaTE2ACUBC3MYuNtVunitS0khk-4HgW-C_Gg/s400/IMG_5024.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5399348728698711794" border="0" /></a>From inside you can see the black and white stones that the whole church is built with, and there is a wooden ceiling, that reminded me of a boat.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiQWHbd3VgE0H4K1jYS-iwk1E8EQ9Ki6kRtC4V53Ek3CkBjIukqgcfzhndHmrr-KsmMXBFBlDW09V6-MoPQYptZvIoXyGrYoVb8e5gzr_nTqQZDVevTztHaNp_OpoaawOTi-8CiQ/s1600-h/IMG_4973.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiQWHbd3VgE0H4K1jYS-iwk1E8EQ9Ki6kRtC4V53Ek3CkBjIukqgcfzhndHmrr-KsmMXBFBlDW09V6-MoPQYptZvIoXyGrYoVb8e5gzr_nTqQZDVevTztHaNp_OpoaawOTi-8CiQ/s400/IMG_4973.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5401471793365321970" border="0" /></a>There are some windows in alabaster through which the sun enters creating a beautiful warm light.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYJs6O9KR-kK7u4NhPhjBPrrBRoYEk-uGNzofqIUK3elAbhsa03WuZ6g-Dg0Y_jS3spz_OWtcv9UK2Th5qGBPzwQwogVqvPhul7CEP09xgIACCAp8k0in0pHnjTIN7d8DQVZMzOw/s1600-h/IMG_5007.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYJs6O9KR-kK7u4NhPhjBPrrBRoYEk-uGNzofqIUK3elAbhsa03WuZ6g-Dg0Y_jS3spz_OWtcv9UK2Th5qGBPzwQwogVqvPhul7CEP09xgIACCAp8k0in0pHnjTIN7d8DQVZMzOw/s400/IMG_5007.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5401471797613956834" border="0" /></a>The chapels are amazing. One of them is particularly famous, completely painted by Signorelli's school. We spent a long time admiring the apocalyptic murals. No pics were allowed, but you can see some of them on <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Orvieto_Cathedral">Wikipedia</a>. One could spend months visiting this Cathedral, and still find something new to discover.<br /><br />The whole city of Orvieto is a mix of Etruscan, Roman and Medieval remains. It was originally built by Etruscans, who were able to keep up with a siege by the Romans for three months. They survived thanks to wells that were dug all the way through the volcanic hill, reaching to the water at the bottom. A lot of wells are still visible. Look inside one of them and imagine the people digging out the dirt and going lower and lower, using the holes you see on the sidewalls as stairs.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi06lkl8mqQl5mh-JjTBypkiBHsfT-E3dd_QztCocyl9CwmcIAit8Sr3SKIbLditD8YpGP5nI6vP0txkAZhWAI5FYSoOrxwUza9HHYXkozTYXysmnxQmLF7iIe5AOIu8JfCRyH71A/s1600-h/IMG_5028.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi06lkl8mqQl5mh-JjTBypkiBHsfT-E3dd_QztCocyl9CwmcIAit8Sr3SKIbLditD8YpGP5nI6vP0txkAZhWAI5FYSoOrxwUza9HHYXkozTYXysmnxQmLF7iIe5AOIu8JfCRyH71A/s400/IMG_5028.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5401471803788483074" border="0" /></a>During the siege apparently people survived on pigeons. They dug nests in the underground rock for them, and the pigeons flew out to get food, and came back to rest. Here is one of the hundreds of 'piccionaie', which we saw during a visit to Orvieto underground:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7BB0g7Nk29E3FN756BGpP4f9v2XQ5Y2LUF1UFNpG8Mm1a4HJM_f6OZWneFVy38oie0f5hlLa8t3ov1SI38ygC8tC362YPFmpdH01d3lNuRBcwDX2yLmDKWkEzQ_0pHB6kwHR4dg/s1600-h/IMG_5032.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7BB0g7Nk29E3FN756BGpP4f9v2XQ5Y2LUF1UFNpG8Mm1a4HJM_f6OZWneFVy38oie0f5hlLa8t3ov1SI38ygC8tC362YPFmpdH01d3lNuRBcwDX2yLmDKWkEzQ_0pHB6kwHR4dg/s400/IMG_5032.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5401471790534727250" border="0" /></a>The piccionaie are just one of the uses of the hundreds of caves that are excavated under Orvieto. People used these caves to keep animals warm in winter and cool in summer, and to mill grains or store food, for example.<br /><br />One of the things I really enjoyed of Orvieto was its location. Surrounded by hills and lakes, it's the perfect place to start bike rides. I found out that, unlike in Japan, in Italy it's very easy to rent beautiful bikes for weeks at a time for very cheap. I got a carbon-frame race bike for 10 Euros a day, and I kept it for 4 days, as long as we were in Orvieto.<br /><br />I went for my excursions in the late afternoon, after visiting places with my family.<br /><br />I went twice to <span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">Bolsena lake</span>. It's in Lazio, the region bordering Umbria (you can see it in the map at the beginning of the post). Depending on how much time you have, you can choose to get there going up and down only two hills or as many as you want. The hills are not extremely high (maximum ~600 m) but altogether they make for a good exercise. And the best part is obviously the landscape! Seeing Orvieto from far away, at the sunset, is just amazing (see the first pictures of this post). And every hill has vineyards, with a castle or a farm on top:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlA3sYWXY4oAw0_qkdZ6dX83oVefX8L4h9neOUs5NC3wymwFYUJGe_QdwT1qvAYG5ZZ_H3ZaBSKByb39IOfW_h8OetVrTfS59vPkvHI7X3HzTyM38FgqiWTMVCUb9J_3BmcSfOdw/s1600-h/IMG_5177.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlA3sYWXY4oAw0_qkdZ6dX83oVefX8L4h9neOUs5NC3wymwFYUJGe_QdwT1qvAYG5ZZ_H3ZaBSKByb39IOfW_h8OetVrTfS59vPkvHI7X3HzTyM38FgqiWTMVCUb9J_3BmcSfOdw/s400/IMG_5177.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5401482116940691842" border="0" /></a>Their green is intense, and the bales of hay generate a vivid contrast. Being there makes you feel alive and peaceful at the same time.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFZHkCRt4LC0f65TOp2Kh9KvcdaHurFTGWtic35XHdDpUhpnbM87tYr8w7-5-dn_w7jwJGZ9FZHu_UXUy0wFSSOZR0IeVCY-jph7_JCVcLABOxCjzfznGpEh5LTy3JfT3N_Pqa2Q/s1600-h/IMG_5210.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFZHkCRt4LC0f65TOp2Kh9KvcdaHurFTGWtic35XHdDpUhpnbM87tYr8w7-5-dn_w7jwJGZ9FZHu_UXUy0wFSSOZR0IeVCY-jph7_JCVcLABOxCjzfznGpEh5LTy3JfT3N_Pqa2Q/s400/IMG_5210.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5401482120218889922" border="0" /></a>Moreover, most roads are quite smooth and not very heavily trafficked, so biking is very pleasant.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhS1bKEryzhUsjTsho2MDveA5YIWjQZjPdpnMoCHQ5TIuAG773T8Jp7GvxuFkfBpF1eiaoYuTRy9NhdDLDblZRGpc5QGEu6EdhhxczCnjQU3Ig_8qJR0wi4LyN9sMN4xTFr6KmNvg/s1600-h/IMG_5208.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhS1bKEryzhUsjTsho2MDveA5YIWjQZjPdpnMoCHQ5TIuAG773T8Jp7GvxuFkfBpF1eiaoYuTRy9NhdDLDblZRGpc5QGEu6EdhhxczCnjQU3Ig_8qJR0wi4LyN9sMN4xTFr6KmNvg/s400/IMG_5208.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5401482124513139874" border="0" /></a><br />I went all the way down to the town of <span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">Bolsena</span> during one of the bike trips. It's a really beautiful Medieval town, with the typical narrow streets.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4yfx1sLsiRqoQ01O2FeZdirbrHgSDI7K69U6vX94ZlVG6hrATmupkt3A_MhEUkyMacWIujb73zDACluRhJdq-B6Zwlt5iVkVUdY01oSSIRB7uqCOrdL6L3OOX5zOxUJyCiJCveA/s1600-h/IMG_5190.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4yfx1sLsiRqoQ01O2FeZdirbrHgSDI7K69U6vX94ZlVG6hrATmupkt3A_MhEUkyMacWIujb73zDACluRhJdq-B6Zwlt5iVkVUdY01oSSIRB7uqCOrdL6L3OOX5zOxUJyCiJCveA/s400/IMG_5190.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5401482128368194626" border="0" /></a>The lake shore are used as beaches in summertime.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgS1QVmQsd0Re1IcYSd04t5qpPt7D6vd3fchvDoaW0j2UHySAHmcpiYXh3JJ-OPlY1r9sEviZCv_AsO0HxkLUrnSNSWbfzkH0TwE2MlPFxZGj-T9FZi2_hrmpLtHB0yIf8lA57SEA/s1600-h/IMG_5193.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgS1QVmQsd0Re1IcYSd04t5qpPt7D6vd3fchvDoaW0j2UHySAHmcpiYXh3JJ-OPlY1r9sEviZCv_AsO0HxkLUrnSNSWbfzkH0TwE2MlPFxZGj-T9FZi2_hrmpLtHB0yIf8lA57SEA/s400/IMG_5193.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5401482133839316962" border="0" /></a>And here is a view of Bolsena lake:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzoOqyh8hjW1gsjgHlfy-tSEAKZ9-mrmAJ3OG1K5tnyOCOAfzLLKD3eFow6Wu2hn3wWpZSNMILczfBZ7adbivqfsEF90CAg_Q7ONKcJBccn6sq3aPoqsUzEZo8gfQMsMlmFmzyMw/s1600-h/IMG_5199.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzoOqyh8hjW1gsjgHlfy-tSEAKZ9-mrmAJ3OG1K5tnyOCOAfzLLKD3eFow6Wu2hn3wWpZSNMILczfBZ7adbivqfsEF90CAg_Q7ONKcJBccn6sq3aPoqsUzEZo8gfQMsMlmFmzyMw/s400/IMG_5199.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5404355077989584402" border="0" /></a><br />I really enjoyed these bike rides. Biking is a great way to tour, I decided, and biking in Italy is particularly good: you see beautiful landscapes, and cross small towns filled with character and history, which are not too far from each other.. not to speak about the food and wine, of course! So I'm hoping I'll be able to go back in not too long, hopefully with Matt.<br /><br />We went back to Bolsena lake with my parents and sister, to visit its southern part. We stopped for lunch at <span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">Montefiascone</span>, another Medieval town on the hills. That day, people were parading in Medieval costumes. We arrived almost at the end of the parade, so here you can see one of the ladies resting with her hat off--it was very hot!<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgs84SuBeD5lAU7x5j7XfGjbMX3wnIuaYhjAtN9cLA10WwoTqOzTczOCc_HsXadwau9ltO5Q_xic_-LRukkNZpab3PkfipLYnLt1byyyQXne440_vpl4GNSU8V3O4SKR7RPlJLW9Q/s1600-h/IMG_5077.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgs84SuBeD5lAU7x5j7XfGjbMX3wnIuaYhjAtN9cLA10WwoTqOzTczOCc_HsXadwau9ltO5Q_xic_-LRukkNZpab3PkfipLYnLt1byyyQXne440_vpl4GNSU8V3O4SKR7RPlJLW9Q/s400/IMG_5077.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5404355086895240514" border="0" /></a><br />For lunch, I finally tried the stuffed pigeon, a specialty in Umbria.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAKGFoqf-kc3e-_DnNzqECh4zwk4k26JSsB8SswFMubtryRNMHD5_rr54hibvI2bTj_xV_7xN2bkmIqLGYXW92GGEZy-zVZWiTLC8poS88H-OpWXIjdbSrYSwSvNUNR5fTlJeuEw/s1600-h/IMG_5079.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAKGFoqf-kc3e-_DnNzqECh4zwk4k26JSsB8SswFMubtryRNMHD5_rr54hibvI2bTj_xV_7xN2bkmIqLGYXW92GGEZy-zVZWiTLC8poS88H-OpWXIjdbSrYSwSvNUNR5fTlJeuEw/s400/IMG_5079.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5404355091755045794" border="0" /></a><br />Quite good, even though there's not a lot of meat. The stuffing was made with potatoes and olives.<br />For dessert, we had another typical food:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlS04nIxzGlX019NxFzJhaU9-iu-av6Qb3EhcuBnq9GgyHbcblSu4zmezn35XC6nkGaDSc_wzfAtRHk2n_v6T2-zzsunVa9XarC9Qr3Or_eH91IaWfvxfD_mKlcGPRYmg2vyenHw/s1600-h/IMG_5081.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlS04nIxzGlX019NxFzJhaU9-iu-av6Qb3EhcuBnq9GgyHbcblSu4zmezn35XC6nkGaDSc_wzfAtRHk2n_v6T2-zzsunVa9XarC9Qr3Or_eH91IaWfvxfD_mKlcGPRYmg2vyenHw/s400/IMG_5081.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5404355094327650530" border="0" /></a>The wine you see is 'Vin Santo', and in some places they serve it with cantuccini (the typical hard cookies with almonds), whereas here it was served with a soft cake made with corn flour, which was really good. We tried vin santo at almost every restaurant we went to, and we got to taste the different flavors this sweet wine can have.<br /><br />If you climb to the top of Montefiascone, you get a wonderful view of Bolsena lake and the surrounding hills.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG28NoaetGGIfhng7y0-NO9krvnmBq2mAtKasF0_08JiN4XHZFftPJlR9lHbkDoZ-t391HFL48Nm9O9rumvJOflux-CErwoCU8y1X5qOnlvPbLTleooaW3siTH4pnk-XTZn7xfJg/s1600-h/IMG_5106.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG28NoaetGGIfhng7y0-NO9krvnmBq2mAtKasF0_08JiN4XHZFftPJlR9lHbkDoZ-t391HFL48Nm9O9rumvJOflux-CErwoCU8y1X5qOnlvPbLTleooaW3siTH4pnk-XTZn7xfJg/s400/IMG_5106.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5404355106052292770" border="0" /></a>I love the roofs of the churches and houses in these Medieval towns, often decorated with lines of drying clothes, and some satellite antennas that contrast with the historical picture.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3kSAX_Q8CfjvFbQkAhQeBMdOtJGGN_oCPp4h42sRYzcTWGLVoGw_Mxy72r1uex6B3OANAEdPnVh0gFSqHvaG2UGgLV1ZV3eMgWal3rrjNX4VfEc-U6pe4K7WELDMbXxjTFORFUA/s1600-h/IMG_5116.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3kSAX_Q8CfjvFbQkAhQeBMdOtJGGN_oCPp4h42sRYzcTWGLVoGw_Mxy72r1uex6B3OANAEdPnVh0gFSqHvaG2UGgLV1ZV3eMgWal3rrjNX4VfEc-U6pe4K7WELDMbXxjTFORFUA/s400/IMG_5116.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5404357847487867794" border="0" /></a><br />After lunch, we drove to <span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">Marta</span>. Yes, hard to believe, but there is a town called Marta on Bolsena Lake! So here is my favorite picture of Marta@Marta:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHhAIhBXWil57jzV9Fgbw_RMBL89k6O2kisZjy5nQxCaEd-FSCrKKHQD36a6QhDp5wdchAqERiY9_WSYMfhoLr5Pa3nQqzX3jpBjFrNXDc_FfGdkAMd6FEmOQn9c1aAffSq5WtQA/s1600-h/IMG_5128.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHhAIhBXWil57jzV9Fgbw_RMBL89k6O2kisZjy5nQxCaEd-FSCrKKHQD36a6QhDp5wdchAqERiY9_WSYMfhoLr5Pa3nQqzX3jpBjFrNXDc_FfGdkAMd6FEmOQn9c1aAffSq5WtQA/s400/IMG_5128.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5404357858741122290" border="0" /></a>And here I'm in front of an official car from the city, with 'Town of Marta' written on it.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFly60G4ChnSz82r_X3Tg7BvBD22nJXBN5ZIK7IZM3cxEx-QDzWOtgMcm0fY_TFxAdhLDPd3JBKihXVM1WrKqBWggJJd8tTinnvWxeYy82Fh4fv8R3x1KM656tic2Ga6f8ttsY3Q/s1600-h/IMG_5134.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFly60G4ChnSz82r_X3Tg7BvBD22nJXBN5ZIK7IZM3cxEx-QDzWOtgMcm0fY_TFxAdhLDPd3JBKihXVM1WrKqBWggJJd8tTinnvWxeYy82Fh4fv8R3x1KM656tic2Ga6f8ttsY3Q/s400/IMG_5134.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5404357862886841634" border="0" /></a><br />On another day we visited <span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">Todi</span>. Todi is not a typical touristic destination in Umbria, but it's a fantastic Roman and Medieval town, with a relaxed atmosphere. Mmm... maybe I shouldn't advertise it or this quiet will be lost, eheh. It has a beautiful main square..<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiNJYfOICmoMGLcbfLzcvJ0BQbzpzNiYfT-e2OibKG5vMzNvvM8Hw55GbBKrPvzFxy9yJHsYiJNCr8cp68wLIoo59y7sgq4JA_bVROYAKHWVecx1zM-KCkDDEEYskaFxTf8iakOA/s1600-h/IMG_5268.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiNJYfOICmoMGLcbfLzcvJ0BQbzpzNiYfT-e2OibKG5vMzNvvM8Hw55GbBKrPvzFxy9yJHsYiJNCr8cp68wLIoo59y7sgq4JA_bVROYAKHWVecx1zM-KCkDDEEYskaFxTf8iakOA/s400/IMG_5268.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5404357866713066802" border="0" /></a>Narrow streets climbing up and down the hill..<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCG9j9bcgUQCvof_N1jBiZFrybD9Agos3hAjPs9MGSdk15U0XUdiYYa9w693jwodhO863Xp9wz-RJizTzOxxZlz6R2vCfWeh8vlKs0_dMnQECmhmlwYyIg3R_MN_oCbEOWlPfApg/s1600-h/IMG_5275.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCG9j9bcgUQCvof_N1jBiZFrybD9Agos3hAjPs9MGSdk15U0XUdiYYa9w693jwodhO863Xp9wz-RJizTzOxxZlz6R2vCfWeh8vlKs0_dMnQECmhmlwYyIg3R_MN_oCbEOWlPfApg/s400/IMG_5275.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5404357873402912594" border="0" /></a>Small courtyards where you can imagine secrets are shared..<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiF5VlAWG9rPMlzOvrCeEoG1iIEIaXNp2LyYYvtbqfp7NMhHkNmFr4jNtPM0orfmS6VlO_bLx63gNKWsTBnuJdm48svfyFaRKQFDMoqeZB0YkhMPqmqUK1mZssTreHUkIOppHWQMg/s1600-h/IMG_5273.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiF5VlAWG9rPMlzOvrCeEoG1iIEIaXNp2LyYYvtbqfp7NMhHkNmFr4jNtPM0orfmS6VlO_bLx63gNKWsTBnuJdm48svfyFaRKQFDMoqeZB0YkhMPqmqUK1mZssTreHUkIOppHWQMg/s400/IMG_5273.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5404436747276450242" border="0" /></a>And of course, beautiful churches. My favorite was San Fortunato, with an unfinished front.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKbRY037iJ5a9yLRyxY-50IpPIy6j-FFAfMtPHcka7fbla6CWf6BMvuOLCNozssdBKKF8xcy3-_tuzOWN2q8Z8QSzqL7zKKhFF0Q3kD6foDrdoQz2rvj_o4JKmhFrFHXXGM-xuTA/s1600-h/IMG_5229.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKbRY037iJ5a9yLRyxY-50IpPIy6j-FFAfMtPHcka7fbla6CWf6BMvuOLCNozssdBKKF8xcy3-_tuzOWN2q8Z8QSzqL7zKKhFF0Q3kD6foDrdoQz2rvj_o4JKmhFrFHXXGM-xuTA/s400/IMG_5229.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5404436750225646306" border="0" /></a>The details in the finished part of this front were some of the most beautiful I've seen in a while. Here is Isaac's sacrifice, for example.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLGJ2CvZMvg-nE0akDDIIETUXkhgFxBRO2JXQfzLbBq7YohTITh9pe9I4EpQRcgSTTZuH5VnqGQOhifvLtuoKniVWk-XeL8LzQ_TG-tmo7BeFLl0DWYmqDqIB8UuZKekh1Rn54kQ/s1600-h/IMG_5233.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLGJ2CvZMvg-nE0akDDIIETUXkhgFxBRO2JXQfzLbBq7YohTITh9pe9I4EpQRcgSTTZuH5VnqGQOhifvLtuoKniVWk-XeL8LzQ_TG-tmo7BeFLl0DWYmqDqIB8UuZKekh1Rn54kQ/s400/IMG_5233.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5404436762137167714" border="0" /></a>And can you see here this man, holding the whole column with his back?<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjowqUyej_CXxIthsmHNCix9XwrXe1_Lcf-4_nneWdrqcbxB-hKIHueO36wcr-NUUymX-Fc1lQL-9FmV0beZ40Bha2EUqTAcCn3r-HVMyRIkJgki1G85Mi9IFXcdpS-Nx-2dVU7TQ/s1600-h/IMG_5238.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjowqUyej_CXxIthsmHNCix9XwrXe1_Lcf-4_nneWdrqcbxB-hKIHueO36wcr-NUUymX-Fc1lQL-9FmV0beZ40Bha2EUqTAcCn3r-HVMyRIkJgki1G85Mi9IFXcdpS-Nx-2dVU7TQ/s400/IMG_5238.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5404436762646747394" border="0" /></a>I climbed all the way up the belltower. The view from the top was worth the exercise.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJZ8WWNP5iHoXu-GC8i4FcSnHXsZ4P2ULMRgNeaXYS09dSjjtkSLZnshaqUKuXoC1T3vHzQQRKoy8zKngGiOm4p60YPK8kSk1XUFIBs53ibIm8_wA48isJnuUWLPPNHB61P7oY2w/s1600-h/IMG_5245.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJZ8WWNP5iHoXu-GC8i4FcSnHXsZ4P2ULMRgNeaXYS09dSjjtkSLZnshaqUKuXoC1T3vHzQQRKoy8zKngGiOm4p60YPK8kSk1XUFIBs53ibIm8_wA48isJnuUWLPPNHB61P7oY2w/s400/IMG_5245.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5404436770065531426" border="0" /></a>We asked for suggestions for a restaurant, and we were sent to 'Gli scalini' (I hope I remember the name right). We sat outside on the terrace, and we had a wonderful view of the hill.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCDfvPJKCbk99fktjodcFcSJnVowa6Czm3ncYhcO5HzQzBWjguEG3gsL4We2EH9iVnRUbmtTdJj-ZDibqI9Cinb64zjnUyoDBKyJo9VrPqvFXYKuJCW2JlXa7XYPdvl2KFVxFuEw/s1600-h/IMG_5276.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCDfvPJKCbk99fktjodcFcSJnVowa6Czm3ncYhcO5HzQzBWjguEG3gsL4We2EH9iVnRUbmtTdJj-ZDibqI9Cinb64zjnUyoDBKyJo9VrPqvFXYKuJCW2JlXa7XYPdvl2KFVxFuEw/s400/IMG_5276.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5404441408313382850" border="0" /></a>We tried the mixed appetizer plate, which is usually one of my favorite things of Italian cuisine. We weren't disappointed:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxAITrPQpiRliVd4xZUsYuF3uVg2GLnAACEuFOuNIIPDVqUTGFtok7s6EPgkk3P9qNaqtSULEOHfpUIWrhNAPNEkm90B7P4tBvx6muYrdz_AMlgF58FGQbR1JEvObZeg59S2WBiQ/s1600-h/IMG_5281.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxAITrPQpiRliVd4xZUsYuF3uVg2GLnAACEuFOuNIIPDVqUTGFtok7s6EPgkk3P9qNaqtSULEOHfpUIWrhNAPNEkm90B7P4tBvx6muYrdz_AMlgF58FGQbR1JEvObZeg59S2WBiQ/s400/IMG_5281.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5404441412109825314" border="0" /></a>Different kinds of meats were alternated with cheese, fried rice ball, crostini (bread with tomatoes and spreads of liver and olives), focaccia, cheese flans, frittata.. This and the filetto were the best part of the meal.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh93ThrJCTKDhkUff7ZJuKKVmwPpRKV_tRPKo1myCT1F4dyvV-9avuoy8rKlJPjg_vLpeMW1PyWBYvji4GSvx4mp8U-ePQ87use8FyPt8aEYJ_mrbh-AlHhtRJopr_Cxa_HoKChtw/s1600-h/IMG_5283.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh93ThrJCTKDhkUff7ZJuKKVmwPpRKV_tRPKo1myCT1F4dyvV-9avuoy8rKlJPjg_vLpeMW1PyWBYvji4GSvx4mp8U-ePQ87use8FyPt8aEYJ_mrbh-AlHhtRJopr_Cxa_HoKChtw/s400/IMG_5283.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5404441416586172258" border="0" /></a>Filetto (fillet) is very tipically served in Umbria and Tuscany, big meat-eating regions. It can be served just grilled, like in the plate shown above, or with pepper or other sauces (as you will see later in the post). It's delicious, as you can easily imagine.<br /><br />I still haven't shown pictures of my family! So, here are my sister and mom after lunch.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLcRsmusXsD9KgiZ9lbx-GGAFcn9u6kZJNZrvmr63vx7Vvh1iZBG1mU6EMMKTh3a3VnpUZZdYAcKmZyWnD7Hn8t6y0pUOKmwgiQk1UNN8hkRwWOTXrQfNRBaPX6ZBiRR36Juu92A/s1600-h/IMG_5285.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLcRsmusXsD9KgiZ9lbx-GGAFcn9u6kZJNZrvmr63vx7Vvh1iZBG1mU6EMMKTh3a3VnpUZZdYAcKmZyWnD7Hn8t6y0pUOKmwgiQk1UNN8hkRwWOTXrQfNRBaPX6ZBiRR36Juu92A/s400/IMG_5285.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5404441418687225426" border="0" /></a>And my dad and I.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLxf7nQaEA7PEyeAoLpVctw0g2JPYkrTCE9YFl0EYGAJUeJM_90RcPnQ13GismnhTSUzzOnZ_ZynLPq7YhW0ynEyuC_c1yazTf2iQIhCBa6JBChQ5yeorfpLfDE1Flwg7rMPEZMw/s1600-h/IMG_5287.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLxf7nQaEA7PEyeAoLpVctw0g2JPYkrTCE9YFl0EYGAJUeJM_90RcPnQ13GismnhTSUzzOnZ_ZynLPq7YhW0ynEyuC_c1yazTf2iQIhCBa6JBChQ5yeorfpLfDE1Flwg7rMPEZMw/s400/IMG_5287.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5404441428658545362" border="0" /></a>We were quite happy because of the good meal and day we were having together.<br /><br />Before leaving Todi, here is a typical detail of this and all small towns in Italy: a beautiful belltower.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8-_PV1jkJCSEir3HcD-W4D4MY9eLXq7pGpgrzw6YdWyVj1TTZg9tOPBdo0mD8BISvesfBjd2jO_7H3Fsn-TNGweD6lJjw6EBwsQ4qC-D9Jqx1NwAryp1EKp-RmzfOHid_rAUhow/s1600-h/IMG_5294.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8-_PV1jkJCSEir3HcD-W4D4MY9eLXq7pGpgrzw6YdWyVj1TTZg9tOPBdo0mD8BISvesfBjd2jO_7H3Fsn-TNGweD6lJjw6EBwsQ4qC-D9Jqx1NwAryp1EKp-RmzfOHid_rAUhow/s400/IMG_5294.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5420003885980997330" border="0" /></a><br />Todi was our last day trip from Orvieto. Then, we moved to <span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">Perugia</span>, where we stayed in another really nice bed and breakfast right downtown. Perugia is much larger than Orvieto, and has really majestic and beautiful squares and buildings. This is Palazzo dei Priori (pretty much the town hall), as an example:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjDGXG8hUAitZvnGM9f4E2zzEAY_BM0MEHn2VnLn6-0t0LhcgQnHSNVEIl4uqfO8v7dzdVy-pCwk50hmR-j3C9iiUTOeuMRixvt0HJWUFVMvM8Nz_Nd1Ug_oME3CMTiQCpckqsXg/s1600-h/IMG_5341.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjDGXG8hUAitZvnGM9f4E2zzEAY_BM0MEHn2VnLn6-0t0LhcgQnHSNVEIl4uqfO8v7dzdVy-pCwk50hmR-j3C9iiUTOeuMRixvt0HJWUFVMvM8Nz_Nd1Ug_oME3CMTiQCpckqsXg/s400/IMG_5341.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5420003888747805154" border="0" /></a>And a detail of another side of it:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4y_Tnz17XQa83ZYmRMMO7cSEZnTJHAyL28oHxYuAqHuuqed4ZHJNvZqso-MOMK3lwXFzj4AYKnE0hTzV1u506s8vYNR3eAtzwnuAge7_lKL3-BiHsEN-l_Lw_o7SeIdIDn1XXdQ/s1600-h/IMG_5347.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4y_Tnz17XQa83ZYmRMMO7cSEZnTJHAyL28oHxYuAqHuuqed4ZHJNvZqso-MOMK3lwXFzj4AYKnE0hTzV1u506s8vYNR3eAtzwnuAge7_lKL3-BiHsEN-l_Lw_o7SeIdIDn1XXdQ/s400/IMG_5347.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5420003899648389074" border="0" /></a>As well as all the other towns I described so far, Perugia is clinged to a hill. It's surrounded by a set of massive walls, some of Roman and some of Etruscan origin. Here is one of the many gates to the city. It's an Etruscan arch, but there are some Roman parts to it.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxRidawuKF8ZSiOdleUtTfTLTrm83HJSX8hDiFJ9odEE3_iuy4VPEcxSO5LImQa_sPH20LhuVkDk9YhG7zLOKIzeOpMAweVwUqFUlFl95CvnNRtPbrjhs54Eggd6dwSsfEXmxwJQ/s1600-h/IMG_5536.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxRidawuKF8ZSiOdleUtTfTLTrm83HJSX8hDiFJ9odEE3_iuy4VPEcxSO5LImQa_sPH20LhuVkDk9YhG7zLOKIzeOpMAweVwUqFUlFl95CvnNRtPbrjhs54Eggd6dwSsfEXmxwJQ/s400/IMG_5536.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5420003903285064978" border="0" /></a>I really enjoyed walking around Perugia. I couldn't rent a bike this time, so I spent some of my alone time just exploring neighborhoods of the city. There are so many churches, small alleys, arches, stairs, gardens with views, so that each walk has some unique surprises. I'll show here some of my discoveries.<br /><br />This first set of images comes from streets close to Corso Vannucci, the main promenade of the city. So, here is the touristic starting point, with the Palazzo dei Priori on the right, and the Fontana Maggiore (Major Fountain):<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU2bcvIPtTUbgRgoSrAtYpI1bqzzioJV9M4ch3e6VFgwsjuWI3g3kKknEgudSKp6wCaETDD033iB5xWkZRNoGdXH8IjHoerVYG0QDB4QMW8l-dpzMoLSaXirtAMgF_BYcaKKsARA/s1600-h/IMG_5502.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU2bcvIPtTUbgRgoSrAtYpI1bqzzioJV9M4ch3e6VFgwsjuWI3g3kKknEgudSKp6wCaETDD033iB5xWkZRNoGdXH8IjHoerVYG0QDB4QMW8l-dpzMoLSaXirtAMgF_BYcaKKsARA/s400/IMG_5502.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5420066893196718514" border="0" /></a>But as soon as you leave this main street, everything becomes quiet. Here is a stairway leading to an acute arch..<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZdzO-cxM281_NHz9wy3DndG_yIHDgoO9vZ75xc0THRtp303rrsxZIEDYixPdY-nllkKqdEL5qkUFfYe2ucF_UhVc3bCnlQO4jqMp9cwRGymA3KcRDKkac1EbC66PBxtd2jgG0Fw/s1600-h/IMG_5368.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZdzO-cxM281_NHz9wy3DndG_yIHDgoO9vZ75xc0THRtp303rrsxZIEDYixPdY-nllkKqdEL5qkUFfYe2ucF_UhVc3bCnlQO4jqMp9cwRGymA3KcRDKkac1EbC66PBxtd2jgG0Fw/s400/IMG_5368.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5420003912907620594" border="0" /></a>A little courtyard:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEx64ryLXOUIKcScus2bww_1xSvVFCxbDjhPuPC1ZIOuVAh2TR0iUmybZCWQ9TpR1iYD4KWC7aTE-SmC5nYixk3mYh9dCN5zqdYE5YIEECzCbRMZByUHABbQJwVQFjHk5VkFp1pQ/s1600-h/IMG_5362.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEx64ryLXOUIKcScus2bww_1xSvVFCxbDjhPuPC1ZIOuVAh2TR0iUmybZCWQ9TpR1iYD4KWC7aTE-SmC5nYixk3mYh9dCN5zqdYE5YIEECzCbRMZByUHABbQJwVQFjHk5VkFp1pQ/s400/IMG_5362.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5420066900438097506" border="0" /></a>A small street:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjB4e3wvUwiTFLoRmaJj_-uJ74xmDpksN9jDK14CGXN5V7BaMla249aM76LA32N24oYoeBCRv1mZs4R5sohfOfnaoIefrUXc-TTzaG6qN_BWJxu9ajwPQMzTMx_MkoUJAsCHIJKw/s1600-h/IMG_5363.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjB4e3wvUwiTFLoRmaJj_-uJ74xmDpksN9jDK14CGXN5V7BaMla249aM76LA32N24oYoeBCRv1mZs4R5sohfOfnaoIefrUXc-TTzaG6qN_BWJxu9ajwPQMzTMx_MkoUJAsCHIJKw/s400/IMG_5363.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5420066911961805730" border="0" /></a><br />I found another interesting neighborhood past the church of San Pietro, close to the botanical garden: here the small church of San Costantino attracted my attention for this beautiful detail.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6WaT0G8x-oBiOvgPaX8fcBRwkaSqy7cUgiub0DBClOAkwb9Zf24LlceHeu4c05oxjTyLvqGdc51iMlcI-QfHkw9QkoUwfdoZz2kTHA6khzQA3bG_283nuz9IMFgKNABhn7WDzjw/s1600-h/IMG_5517.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 120px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6WaT0G8x-oBiOvgPaX8fcBRwkaSqy7cUgiub0DBClOAkwb9Zf24LlceHeu4c05oxjTyLvqGdc51iMlcI-QfHkw9QkoUwfdoZz2kTHA6khzQA3bG_283nuz9IMFgKNABhn7WDzjw/s400/IMG_5517.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5420066915912190930" border="0" /></a>Is the animal to the left a representation of what the sculptor thought a lion? If so, we would have the four symbols of the Evangelists, holding each other in a position I never saw before, surrounding the represenation of Jesus as a king.<br /><br />Another wonderful religious detail I saw was this piece of a fresco in front of Santa Maria di Monteluce:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLuD5w2Xty9LuVI3dvOdu4QKc-4cS6yiD5Ft6uELIqDcei0UIXaeeKo5FFPEgfmExwhp-WhJ6WUQS17_Tlp8EcuSxa4dRFCevODN6qL0e79a9UL5r-7z5O_iOh5cdT9vexIaEcCw/s1600-h/IMG_5542.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLuD5w2Xty9LuVI3dvOdu4QKc-4cS6yiD5Ft6uELIqDcei0UIXaeeKo5FFPEgfmExwhp-WhJ6WUQS17_Tlp8EcuSxa4dRFCevODN6qL0e79a9UL5r-7z5O_iOh5cdT9vexIaEcCw/s400/IMG_5542.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5420066918374194930" border="0" /></a>Such a sweet portrait.<br /><br />And another area I really liked was the neighborhood surrounding the Tempio di Sant'Angelo, a round church with a quiet and majestic interior that reminded me of a Roman temple:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhu3SJcsy044wPGGYLBXoXFEnD_1J-QKFYvpeLEyApuqkVZP6P3Ak7YxrjmHyQTTqelr2CSLI4k9pAlIOKqfMv8VXuovTuxZ6g8L8o01OKYEm4ANRnXnyaTypkMLEifkiAqrJnjEQ/s1600-h/IMG_5549.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhu3SJcsy044wPGGYLBXoXFEnD_1J-QKFYvpeLEyApuqkVZP6P3Ak7YxrjmHyQTTqelr2CSLI4k9pAlIOKqfMv8VXuovTuxZ6g8L8o01OKYEm4ANRnXnyaTypkMLEifkiAqrJnjEQ/s400/IMG_5549.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5420069985805528002" border="0" /></a>The neighborhood is not touristic at all, and you can see families gathering in the beautiful park in front of the church, or kids just sitting outside on the streets to chat:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_UWk1bos0Y1dpYuOOcWiFuqEw-e7C-LtY0DNGo7LkQTTnIXltsBsUqp8mFYL5GL4vQDMYDvA6CiEEQDeuWLReHxBrW-uuowtDqIvjHVMg16hG32ECTDvhuyZEKL9f6G5qLSiJsQ/s1600-h/IMG_5575.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_UWk1bos0Y1dpYuOOcWiFuqEw-e7C-LtY0DNGo7LkQTTnIXltsBsUqp8mFYL5GL4vQDMYDvA6CiEEQDeuWLReHxBrW-uuowtDqIvjHVMg16hG32ECTDvhuyZEKL9f6G5qLSiJsQ/s400/IMG_5575.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5420069991351955218" border="0" /></a>Even the name of the streets make you feel welcome and in a good mood: here you can see 'Via graziosa', or 'Pretty street'<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0zE65tTBZxnUGFaxT5WbZ3HCC2XLZm278caxw6CfnX4MwYSgorUPxzPo1sjWuFr14I_28gUTQtO_pTtF29UpLzcIU-QqB_bxe3uutQ-XpJq-NfVLokSqOyx0AK1EH41Y1mOvNbQ/s1600-h/IMG_5577.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0zE65tTBZxnUGFaxT5WbZ3HCC2XLZm278caxw6CfnX4MwYSgorUPxzPo1sjWuFr14I_28gUTQtO_pTtF29UpLzcIU-QqB_bxe3uutQ-XpJq-NfVLokSqOyx0AK1EH41Y1mOvNbQ/s400/IMG_5577.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5420069994519142274" border="0" /></a>'Via gentile' -- 'Kind street'<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikbDbduUXcOXshy28X90eaHLQVzudRv893ivv7kj9NS2WgneIC9c5P7w1KGpA95c-P7smbIKX_dtWpcPHEtF7_2PR4_VXlzST0R70K2g1nNS334LiKcuvNQYDLlqr8az5DR69slg/s1600-h/IMG_5578.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikbDbduUXcOXshy28X90eaHLQVzudRv893ivv7kj9NS2WgneIC9c5P7w1KGpA95c-P7smbIKX_dtWpcPHEtF7_2PR4_VXlzST0R70K2g1nNS334LiKcuvNQYDLlqr8az5DR69slg/s400/IMG_5578.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5420070002791206066" border="0" /></a>And 'Via curiosa' -- 'Curious street'<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPux0yuZlAp6VUUYfySmBQudCOs9yfmnUxGkLYmYghCW6qby5iVYYngsKVNztkL4_-__B8bMUfMAqMfa1OE8U9rSgAdsUgG5p1ukAhIeRiMxhA_ngHjszPV4cBBrOXKHmj-XCZLA/s1600-h/IMG_5581.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPux0yuZlAp6VUUYfySmBQudCOs9yfmnUxGkLYmYghCW6qby5iVYYngsKVNztkL4_-__B8bMUfMAqMfa1OE8U9rSgAdsUgG5p1ukAhIeRiMxhA_ngHjszPV4cBBrOXKHmj-XCZLA/s400/IMG_5581.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5420070006563577874" border="0" /></a><br />Food in Perugia is also quite nice. Here is a typical dessert, a snake made of almond paste, really good. I brought one back for Matt to taste, and he really liked it too.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMc1BYVz5XeR_3gBgLnV-PZhl2WFLfkd92StUfBcWAC54acIUTUd-oC-ma3Uj9OqmpAtKYsjGCH9GjskzVQCapkJKq261jjz8BPvkDcoNbxjweDfaB7t9M-B-BH6sh8ngYPxlbjQ/s1600-h/IMG_5354.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMc1BYVz5XeR_3gBgLnV-PZhl2WFLfkd92StUfBcWAC54acIUTUd-oC-ma3Uj9OqmpAtKYsjGCH9GjskzVQCapkJKq261jjz8BPvkDcoNbxjweDfaB7t9M-B-BH6sh8ngYPxlbjQ/s400/IMG_5354.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5420072199973261378" border="0" /></a>And this is a Perugian homemade pasta, with a square section. Unfortunately I can't recall its name.. somebody out there knows it?? [Later addition: Simona reminded me they were called 'stringozzi', see comment below!]<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEei4b3LeQ_7s-L-m4awMtgHYhBuQp07j0bOCAwmRF3dXgYjwQjLIEK9TNZ9r_oryoeA0zCgvDWYSVnpm-klWkG0U1tr_Anv1KGxVAgstxGorijA0hFB501T6HUHE3QWniOC5Ukg/s1600-h/IMG_5509.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEei4b3LeQ_7s-L-m4awMtgHYhBuQp07j0bOCAwmRF3dXgYjwQjLIEK9TNZ9r_oryoeA0zCgvDWYSVnpm-klWkG0U1tr_Anv1KGxVAgstxGorijA0hFB501T6HUHE3QWniOC5Ukg/s400/IMG_5509.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5420072202487170706" border="0" /></a><br />We took two day-trips from Perugia. The first one was to Gubbio, stopping by <span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">Umbertide</span>. We chose this mid-way stop because my dad's name is Umberto, so we really wanted to take a picture of him in this town like we did for me at Marta:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPAEhb7SPePbDhtdRn4uz1_Adm-vj2VwVgpwSAXz6GHFQRKg6TdEyehaHem8UE98l4bQW1-0gqjcnyJNqXSAC1J6abwXnZvoquc0faaBi8HzIl849Ydkr5DfB5YJYvuL-OsoYAVw/s1600-h/IMG_5374.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPAEhb7SPePbDhtdRn4uz1_Adm-vj2VwVgpwSAXz6GHFQRKg6TdEyehaHem8UE98l4bQW1-0gqjcnyJNqXSAC1J6abwXnZvoquc0faaBi8HzIl849Ydkr5DfB5YJYvuL-OsoYAVw/s400/IMG_5374.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5420072212684481074" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"><br />Gubbio</span> was quite nice, even though maybe we didn't spend enough time to fully appreciate all its beauties, also because it started raining on us. This is the main street.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhd_36fDpLCQeSi1hQ0KxzvdwCtQOvkCXz-kEQ6NdvDSHH9HadqefKtP1h7TQdENpZNq4VJVCHWEhnRc455oEnt0XooB2JuaIsq1KbXR2Oestj1mzfkYeBkLOhwsfp4-rW4pJLSag/s1600-h/IMG_5388.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhd_36fDpLCQeSi1hQ0KxzvdwCtQOvkCXz-kEQ6NdvDSHH9HadqefKtP1h7TQdENpZNq4VJVCHWEhnRc455oEnt0XooB2JuaIsq1KbXR2Oestj1mzfkYeBkLOhwsfp4-rW4pJLSag/s400/IMG_5388.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5420072215136664258" border="0" /></a>The landscape from one of the main squares was really beautiful, especially with the threatening sky we encountered:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_OuseFioCQtBMcLBLvb5dGOqWYa-B5-CoddvcP_2wnPCBzFIc58q17zNst2mAlD9ELXnCmVyatbKVrhaSAWD2k00fpjZBWJZxBxauR0hM1OdjfxsExzXx-OPQUnyKKqluRQksTA/s1600-h/IMG_5403.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_OuseFioCQtBMcLBLvb5dGOqWYa-B5-CoddvcP_2wnPCBzFIc58q17zNst2mAlD9ELXnCmVyatbKVrhaSAWD2k00fpjZBWJZxBxauR0hM1OdjfxsExzXx-OPQUnyKKqluRQksTA/s400/IMG_5403.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5420072219099632290" border="0" /></a>And here is a fountain, framed by an arch:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPBsN9Wexr2Z_LVrpAoWbmjdnoTDQuVDZODvaam-9IgSf3rRjXBn5HqqUnZK6moPU_bYjzzpYqvXsw12aLaB7ulcsyoP-sYJo4M-zJQH9hrxOLmQMyE6DlIB6zF_iz3_4Fy0BinQ/s1600-h/IMG_5428.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPBsN9Wexr2Z_LVrpAoWbmjdnoTDQuVDZODvaam-9IgSf3rRjXBn5HqqUnZK6moPU_bYjzzpYqvXsw12aLaB7ulcsyoP-sYJo4M-zJQH9hrxOLmQMyE6DlIB6zF_iz3_4Fy0BinQ/s400/IMG_5428.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5420077162773210610" border="0" /></a><br />One thing we surely appreciated in Gubbio was the food. Again, we had an appetizer platter of salumi (a general term that includes salame and prosciutto of various kinds). I wouldn't be able to tell you the names of all of these salumi; Many of them are local and it would be hard to find them outside Umbria.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyBjw2QikoUW8QRFsGXiIzMetLvRaYkbAN0NO1BMHmD2LsqxEj0ohtLMYqv2h8SWf_VV2ryZYxEqlPybaqikHByM0Xesi2ZLHY0-eoA8VA6z1r0umCn7ZDeIkiLt2TJwVV16cvLQ/s1600-h/IMG_5386.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyBjw2QikoUW8QRFsGXiIzMetLvRaYkbAN0NO1BMHmD2LsqxEj0ohtLMYqv2h8SWf_VV2ryZYxEqlPybaqikHByM0Xesi2ZLHY0-eoA8VA6z1r0umCn7ZDeIkiLt2TJwVV16cvLQ/s400/IMG_5386.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5420079526292566930" border="0" /></a>These salumi were to be eaten with 'torta al testo', a very typical Umbrian flat bread made with just flour and water.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmfmOGXkceUvPvQ0fiOvDtjO2kfKi3dSAtpqU0TLLGSmdV7B_1CQuDYXenhGzNRjiIrlQ0MMjatOJ-MiGQqM46DU2K2YRnUQuweDsntwK2chvdUwJHkTg8Vqa6zOp-7YNlGk4a_w/s1600-h/IMG_5384.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmfmOGXkceUvPvQ0fiOvDtjO2kfKi3dSAtpqU0TLLGSmdV7B_1CQuDYXenhGzNRjiIrlQ0MMjatOJ-MiGQqM46DU2K2YRnUQuweDsntwK2chvdUwJHkTg8Vqa6zOp-7YNlGk4a_w/s400/IMG_5384.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5420079529835842594" border="0" /></a>My main course was this delightful filetto with white truffles.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkMese_v50DKwNhLxsUS1do67dFKE4kboNX8qmlo-2uQ_jExiMQ83bLgwjVZ3F3a1JwfeZqblbkkXcue9QRqkwVSGh9ThL0mAbN8o2c6ki7GSnkF2cs1d4iu8sVLWCn113ZC6V9w/s1600-h/IMG_5387.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkMese_v50DKwNhLxsUS1do67dFKE4kboNX8qmlo-2uQ_jExiMQ83bLgwjVZ3F3a1JwfeZqblbkkXcue9QRqkwVSGh9ThL0mAbN8o2c6ki7GSnkF2cs1d4iu8sVLWCn113ZC6V9w/s400/IMG_5387.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5420079534081672290" border="0" /></a>These summer white truffles are not as flavorful (and expensive) as the fall truffles, we learned; However, you can imagine they weren't too bad on the filetto...<br /><br />Our second day-trip was to Assisi and to the Trasimeno lake. <span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">Assisi</span> was for sure the most touristic place we visited, even though luckily it wasn't too crowded when we went. The Basilica's frescoes are amazing, but I can show you here only the outside, which is also quite impressive.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjH5YdEV1hoQl3XqKpUO0uyMmbmdgqm6-NarJqr-aoO_9KzhX7Outl1rDsOmUCDQuLvpC16MUsMcaTloPdWQnqOOlL-uy1zG-RVJD6Ma2tN7kAjwIUb75b6g3ZH5fDLfb0szLobUw/s1600-h/IMG_5436.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjH5YdEV1hoQl3XqKpUO0uyMmbmdgqm6-NarJqr-aoO_9KzhX7Outl1rDsOmUCDQuLvpC16MUsMcaTloPdWQnqOOlL-uy1zG-RVJD6Ma2tN7kAjwIUb75b6g3ZH5fDLfb0szLobUw/s400/IMG_5436.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5420077172769703714" border="0" /></a>The church of Santa Chiara is as beautiful, with its pink and white stone and arches:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgT3Efa0yJ_z6qp0-uuJsXSBw4LqTIBRaEjdgS5qes7k0tfKeTEI8Gh7N0MCJjJQDoVLxCUBkpTTmQj-1VDXSkUsZwYqM4Hs30a4KRvinLxizb9HoV1xjAX8MYOc4iYY40h6bkc1g/s1600-h/IMG_5463.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgT3Efa0yJ_z6qp0-uuJsXSBw4LqTIBRaEjdgS5qes7k0tfKeTEI8Gh7N0MCJjJQDoVLxCUBkpTTmQj-1VDXSkUsZwYqM4Hs30a4KRvinLxizb9HoV1xjAX8MYOc4iYY40h6bkc1g/s400/IMG_5463.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5420077178846973490" border="0" /></a>The whole city is filled with gorgeous architecture... Just to leave the religious theme for a moment, here is a picture of a fountain; The writing above it says that if you wash your clothes in it you'll have to pay a one 'scudo' (an old type of currency) fine and your clothes will be taken away from you!<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidtHaBtw0sY62otJ_Og-j3dFx23QOnIy8BlQTPGNfuUCkq9OrEfyjZX24nP3rUumJD5XuTpZtv5m-q2tVVBjSm8sqVesS2rxJNmFb15mSPiQE2udEGJw22BJfwp4lwWlBcnz3pxg/s1600-h/IMG_5443.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidtHaBtw0sY62otJ_Og-j3dFx23QOnIy8BlQTPGNfuUCkq9OrEfyjZX24nP3rUumJD5XuTpZtv5m-q2tVVBjSm8sqVesS2rxJNmFb15mSPiQE2udEGJw22BJfwp4lwWlBcnz3pxg/s400/IMG_5443.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5420077186270487986" border="0" /></a><br />I also enjoyed our final walk on the side of the Assisi hill, which allowed me to take a few pictures of the nature around, such as these olives against the sky:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjxvNo2gKHQg7NclIyGssbMGrLOsLduhgbpBDDT6M3gOdcFlPUlbt2aAOe72ZyAmXHj0tUykcn88KdHflkrNdfiiBjfQZLaqMHDuhm7PwHmz_c6-cbehUsNDnwD5148Yy8ZS7iWA/s1600-h/IMG_5474.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjxvNo2gKHQg7NclIyGssbMGrLOsLduhgbpBDDT6M3gOdcFlPUlbt2aAOe72ZyAmXHj0tUykcn88KdHflkrNdfiiBjfQZLaqMHDuhm7PwHmz_c6-cbehUsNDnwD5148Yy8ZS7iWA/s400/IMG_5474.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5420077193311730562" border="0" /></a>Few trees are as beautiful as old olive trees.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguI5GKN2qqYzShVjMEVHP_xLTNj0t_5kFMnYizL-EUuku8WKheRu64oM9sWD0IS1l6rvvJwCFL5LzUcuGY-DwPN8VfYnlU8IfkODXvkjqmmuzBujrTTOC1jV1ns2Oz_srCdz8VWA/s1600-h/IMG_5480.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguI5GKN2qqYzShVjMEVHP_xLTNj0t_5kFMnYizL-EUuku8WKheRu64oM9sWD0IS1l6rvvJwCFL5LzUcuGY-DwPN8VfYnlU8IfkODXvkjqmmuzBujrTTOC1jV1ns2Oz_srCdz8VWA/s400/IMG_5480.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5420079510392132354" border="0" /></a><br />Our final destination for the day was the <span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">Trasimeno lake</span>. We went to <span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">Castiglione del lago</span>, and enjoyed a late afternoon on the lake. This was also the final destination of my trip to Umbria with my family. I had to leave and go back to Berkeley, to pack everything up and get ready for the next adventure.<br /><br />Take this picture of me on the Trasimeno lake as a warm goodbye from Italy and to Italy. It was a really nice trip, maybe the best my family and I took together. I hope you enjoyed reading about it, and I look forward to questions, comments, and seeing my family and Italy again!<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5jNNFjc_ay7p1LhVlyKASIAOBf7_j4MAXZ2J5o2DJ4oauv5OMa38bLxIRpcK7k8mVl0ewfRVmZ3OZZcvCVEah4PHAOK9dEWMRXru9uF8GI_nCRXJQDwrzIJXRJisRbm-nm5yMMQ/s1600-h/IMG_5486.JPG"></a><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5jNNFjc_ay7p1LhVlyKASIAOBf7_j4MAXZ2J5o2DJ4oauv5OMa38bLxIRpcK7k8mVl0ewfRVmZ3OZZcvCVEah4PHAOK9dEWMRXru9uF8GI_nCRXJQDwrzIJXRJisRbm-nm5yMMQ/s1600-h/IMG_5486.JPG"><img style="text-align: left;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; display: block; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5jNNFjc_ay7p1LhVlyKASIAOBf7_j4MAXZ2J5o2DJ4oauv5OMa38bLxIRpcK7k8mVl0ewfRVmZ3OZZcvCVEah4PHAOK9dEWMRXru9uF8GI_nCRXJQDwrzIJXRJisRbm-nm5yMMQ/s400/IMG_5486.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5420079521607694738" border="0" /></a></div><div>----------</div><div>Later addition: this post has been featured on<a href="http://beeninumbria.posterous.com/an-italian-in-the-us-viaggio-in-umbria"> 'Been in Umbria',</a> a blog that shows experiences from tourists been in Umbria. Thanks, I feel very honored!</div><div>-----------</div>chemcookithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17675842171888658314noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21308831.post-68811184927802288782009-11-18T23:19:00.004-08:002009-11-18T23:21:32.755-08:00Quest for Katsuobushi, II: "Dashi is Deep"Dissatisfied with my dashi, I journeyed to Izumo.<br /><br />OK, that's not entirely true, but I like the sound of it. And it's not entirely false either. Once I had felt I had gotten the knack of making dashi, as detailed in <a href="http://italianintheus.blogspot.com/2009/07/quest-for-katsuobushi.html">Quest for Katsuobushi</a>, I tested my new skill on Marta's friend Keisuke and his family. The soup I made was just as described before: dashi made from kombu and katsuobushi, salted to taste, with small chunks of soft tofu and thin slivers of Japanese green onion. Keisuke said the broth was nice, but then ever so politely wondered why there wasn't any miso in it, or rice alongside.<br /><br />These were good questions, but it wasn't that I hadn't thought of these things. Katsuobushi, according to the food scientists, has one of the most complex flavor spectra of any food. Wouldn't it be a shame to mask its depth of flavor with miso, itself no slouch in the complexity department? And rice. I don't have any problem with rice. It's good when made well, but why not focus on less humble foods when you're aiming to impress?<br /><br />Why not? Because "dashi is deep". It's not simply about its large number of different flavor molecules, its "lactic acic and amino acids, peptides, and nucleotides, . . . , pungent phenolic compunds, . . ., nitrogen- and sulfer-containing carbon rings, . . ., flowery, fruity, green notes" [McGee again]. It's about much more than this, as I was to learn.<br /><br />Let me begin by saying that katsuobushi is not quite as hard to find in Japan as I had thought, even though Keisuke had told me that I was the first person he'd ever seen holding it. Indeed we saw katsuobushi our very first day, simply because we happened to visit Tokyo's Tsukiji, the biggest fish market in the world:<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvYMGFY0y1GrN1vUMVYRPrBgu8Hg25wEKEFZKVEm3b5u3uueLClPcO4rFk5cc4tPOPPLL_6OG7qVbTmNjSF93w26bI4kDpLAVgkS_el97vuEwT54sAK9wSFbcR5G2yb_X_fK9v/s1600-h/img_4419.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 336px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvYMGFY0y1GrN1vUMVYRPrBgu8Hg25wEKEFZKVEm3b5u3uueLClPcO4rFk5cc4tPOPPLL_6OG7qVbTmNjSF93w26bI4kDpLAVgkS_el97vuEwT54sAK9wSFbcR5G2yb_X_fK9v/s400/img_4419.jpg" alt="Tsukiji katsuobushi" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5370169857030886866" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Surprisingly, whole katsuobushi was more expensive by weight than flaked. We conjecture that's because the flakes are made from more unattractive specimens. Sometime later, I turned on the TV to see a cooking show wherein they stewed 5mm (!) slices of katsuobushi until soft, then cooked them with bitter melon. Toward the end of our trip, we saw katsuobushi again in Kyoto's Nishiki gourmet shopping district.<br /><br />My first katsuobushi, however, had come from Izumo, and Izumo seemed to be a good starting point for an eastward bike trip from rural to urban Japan. No doubt e-dashi's Hiromi and Haruo, living in Japan's least populous Shimane prefecture, were doubtful that we'd follow through when we said, "Hey, we'll be in Japan. Maybe we'll drop by." But then, we had surprised them already: We learned that ours was the first order, in their 10 years on the web, from gaijin.<br /><br />Given our novelty, maybe we shouldn't have been entirely surprised that we were greeted by more than a simple hello. But then I don't think there was any reason to expect the ensuing full-court press of hospitality. Marta has <a href="http://italianintheus.blogspot.com/2009/07/giappone-prima-parte.html">already </a>described part of it. Here is the rest:<br /><br />After visiting Izumo taisha, we were brought to e-dashi's store, which is built into the front of a 100-year-old house. The inside is a study in restraint. Unlike in America's overflowing aisles, the stock is arranged to fit the room, like museum exhibits. There was everything needed to make good dashi: katsuobushi, of course, but also (giant--see below) kombu, mushrooms, small dried fish, and---here I finally see one---a katsuobushi dezuriki, the plane traditionally used to make the flakes. I was interested, of course. First, though, lunch to a very good tempuraya. Before we leave, Hiromi places two pieces of kombu to cold-steep in a pan of water.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTYvPiQz6IMnAaywtBQVCKE3ZuI-0AB73jtnzzXyM_7KKpI27KWw8bmEMMzQpdR3yiGG4jusyZF-yT-C0qtTVS-4TGfU80Lhx6bvFoZSKdlKDUdHqnGJcWHinR_FjJzQr2wL3N/s1600-h/img_4575.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTYvPiQz6IMnAaywtBQVCKE3ZuI-0AB73jtnzzXyM_7KKpI27KWw8bmEMMzQpdR3yiGG4jusyZF-yT-C0qtTVS-4TGfU80Lhx6bvFoZSKdlKDUdHqnGJcWHinR_FjJzQr2wL3N/s400/img_4575.jpg" alt="Giant kombu" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5370171739849698082" border="0" /></a><br /><br />When we return, I learn about the dezuriki. Like other Japanese planes, it consists of a block of oak with a slot cut into it, just large enough so that the iron can be wedged in. The block then fits into the drawered box that catches the flakes.<br /><br />The iron is made of two layers of metal, one soft and one hard. The soft layer gives support to the harder cutting edge, and makes it easier to remove metal when sharpening. This is important because the cutting steel in Japanese tools is considerably harder than in western cutlery. The iron is set into the oak at a rather shallow angle---10 degrees less, I'd say, than the Sheffield plane I used before. The smaller angle means that each shaving bends less as it's removed. In woodworking, we don't care at all about the shavings; only what's left counts. Here they're important, aesthetically at least. If shavings bent as they are removed, they will become opaque and rough. Perhaps the soup doesn't care, but if you want the flakes to look pretty dancing, better they be shiny.<br /><br />Here Haruo shows me how to use the plane, which he had restored himself:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUjNfCPLAs6O8zU-LWd20da0-dr-gDar2f5W3sbK8tLQcjY9WqmbevC1J6E8jUn6if1Kt3IeQfOGnQYDcir1XID0iLtawym3lsurcnpIexpUl5k9_-UXCUYVTXDGR4Ev-E9Zwh/s1600-h/img_4594.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUjNfCPLAs6O8zU-LWd20da0-dr-gDar2f5W3sbK8tLQcjY9WqmbevC1J6E8jUn6if1Kt3IeQfOGnQYDcir1XID0iLtawym3lsurcnpIexpUl5k9_-UXCUYVTXDGR4Ev-E9Zwh/s400/img_4594.jpg" alt="Kezuriki and novice" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5370172145872101122" border="0" /></a><br />Here Haruo demonstrates. He was much more fluid than I.<br /><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dzP3olah5n30TtnnFu-TP3b2RlcycaKbuX_Nr0e7HmsEmLdxy11pemXti-8RrQXqPzT_4o8j4pJVxc' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe><br /><br />Here one must be careful not to make finger shavings also---the blade is razor sharp, or sharper ("Razor sharp isn't sharp!" once insisted a guy at Japanwoodworker).<br /><br />Haruo also shows us an intermediate stage of katsuobushi. This piece has picked up a layer of char from weeks of exposure to smoke. This char will have to be removed before the piece is inoculated with mold.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioXj7AoqNIv31Z-nyW5_J_K5sOAb8JEgkQwWrZJVauzOzrEKPhIcX52yUTMUqJ6E3PyrvILLN3uhZKZ09pVJW6G9oTNRpUWTyBfEWF-kry9MM0GAi19M-Swcl_k4WLzg16G-PA/s1600-h/img_4599.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 165px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioXj7AoqNIv31Z-nyW5_J_K5sOAb8JEgkQwWrZJVauzOzrEKPhIcX52yUTMUqJ6E3PyrvILLN3uhZKZ09pVJW6G9oTNRpUWTyBfEWF-kry9MM0GAi19M-Swcl_k4WLzg16G-PA/s400/img_4599.jpg" alt="Smoked katsuo" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5370172763121704386" border="0" /></a><br /><br />We are now ready for the dashi lesson. Heat the water. As soon as bubbles start to appear, remove the kombu. Heat the water to boiling, and add the flaked katsuobushi, 5 to 7 grams per cup of water.<br /><br />Remove from heat and let steep until the flakes sink to the bottom. Strain.<br /><br />What I didn't do before: Add equal parts red and white miso.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbuAd5nQRPQqubca51LAkziMeg11rPfBT-Bh4f1SdVta4ErCp82a_rAUWDDpgNBT5mXMSyoXrtxI4zGuMSI0YpKIXvJdFqHyOaKeVfLU3EAJy2oYVly36YwcJc7cnbHx7tXF7C/s1600-h/img_4609.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 392px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbuAd5nQRPQqubca51LAkziMeg11rPfBT-Bh4f1SdVta4ErCp82a_rAUWDDpgNBT5mXMSyoXrtxI4zGuMSI0YpKIXvJdFqHyOaKeVfLU3EAJy2oYVly36YwcJc7cnbHx7tXF7C/s400/img_4609.jpg" alt="Red and white miso" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5370174445246969906" border="0" /></a><br /><br />An aside about miso: Miso is a fermented mixture of soybean and rice. White miso has about 4 parts rice to 1 part soybean, and ferments for a month or so. Red has soy-to-rice ratio anywhere from 1 to infinity. It ferments much longer, for six months or so. Miso is much like cheese, in that it is cultured many ways. Earlier, Yokohama's Hideo and Yoko had us try red miso from Nagoya, which was much earthier than others.<br /><br />To add miso to dashi, one typically emulsifies it inside a spoon with some of the dashi. Traditionally there was a special spoon just for this purpose, but any will do.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhK0Ib1faSG9wQuz04zQtLc4TYigqfvz8J9xatHwsC564ETJ9xryuKZUSjQerYbbxBgJTxmLZJmH7GPJTekGGXG9vgruGKncUNXkh-NK6TNx-B8lpkcp8I3uRQUL0o3IrisvR4h/s1600-h/img_4610.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhK0Ib1faSG9wQuz04zQtLc4TYigqfvz8J9xatHwsC564ETJ9xryuKZUSjQerYbbxBgJTxmLZJmH7GPJTekGGXG9vgruGKncUNXkh-NK6TNx-B8lpkcp8I3uRQUL0o3IrisvR4h/s400/img_4610.jpg" alt="Mixing in the miso" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5370174855111269682" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Now reheat the dashi to just below boiling, and add whatever else you have planned. Here, Hiromi is using a type of tofu.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJ0kcDSt8IF2Ghpfv7XHvtnCPYUFOBxowIqpLKPoUN1509nM6PnUdmfTZYrTQdIrgflVVgJHTOXm0MerRQnOJs1Yfjlgd8LuA8OvKItyxgU1Wx7jJRNPSC7D4sPnLTnzOEN_oP/s1600-h/img_4607a.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 216px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJ0kcDSt8IF2Ghpfv7XHvtnCPYUFOBxowIqpLKPoUN1509nM6PnUdmfTZYrTQdIrgflVVgJHTOXm0MerRQnOJs1Yfjlgd8LuA8OvKItyxgU1Wx7jJRNPSC7D4sPnLTnzOEN_oP/s400/img_4607a.jpg" alt="Adding tofu" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5370174260122924386" border="0" /></a><br /><br />The finished soup:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiN7HfHQMidUsVONR8wDdURXIKZ9cdR8CE-TOI9TZuX94i8D8Nr-FH7N3eXLsYvuT4JB2WOIUx8gb_TMwZC7ItnSaxoT9JJcINVBoXL4fTLZOSbe9IRRKObMQiv4zHrVshiARi/s1600-h/img_4611.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiN7HfHQMidUsVONR8wDdURXIKZ9cdR8CE-TOI9TZuX94i8D8Nr-FH7N3eXLsYvuT4JB2WOIUx8gb_TMwZC7ItnSaxoT9JJcINVBoXL4fTLZOSbe9IRRKObMQiv4zHrVshiARi/s400/img_4611.jpg" alt="Hiromi's soup" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5370175090571873346" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br />This soup was, not surprisingly, very good. However, the miso was masking some of the smokiness of the katsuobushi and the sea smell of the kombu. How was I to accept that the the most hard-to-find and complex ingredients were playing the supporting role in this soup?<br /><br />This wasn't to be our last taste of dashi in Izumo. When Hiromi prepared for sushi handrolls for dinner, she cooked the rice in dashi. Again, very good, but a supporting role for the katsuobushi.<br /><br />The attentive and faithful reader of this blog may have noticed a resemblance between the dezuriki above and the one shown earlier alongside miso soup and dashi rice in <a href="http://italianintheus.blogspot.com/2009/08/quest-for-katsuobushi-intermezzo.html">Quest for Katsuobushi: Intermezzo Anacronistico</a>. Before we left the house that night, Hiromi asked two questions from a printout. First, "Are used goods okay?" Sure, everything I own is used. Second, "Would you like to have the dezuriki?"<br /><br />Flash forward to last August. The dezuriki had arrived by mail from Izumo, and I was trying put together a set of return gifts that would suitably express how much I appreciated their profound generosity. We had tried to teach Hiromi and Haruo's sons a bit of English while waiting for dinner, and they had said they liked the manga Dragonball Z, so I went to a Berkeley comic store to look for the English version. On one shelf, there was a tag from the employees recommending a manga called Oishinbo, about a group of foodies traveling Japan assembling the "ultimate menu". This popular manga had had a long run starting in the 80s. The English translation was a compilation, "A la Carte", of episodes arranged into a "full-course manga meal". First course: "The Secret of Dashi." Well well.<br /><br />In this episode, our hero Shiro rescues the stand-in chefs at a Tokyo keiseki restaurant, who are struggling to make a dashi that will be accepted by Shiro's demanding father, who happens to be in a different room in the same place. Shiro's dashi procedure is roughly the same as Hiromi's, with some differences: Instead of letting the kombu soak, Shiro first gently rinses it under the tap water, then slides it through the hot water in the pan in just one pass. (The footnotes call this technique "hikidashi kombu"--to draw forth the kombu.) Shiro seems to reduce the steeping time for the katsuobushi flakes as well: He claims that boiling would draw out the fish flavor, and one wouldn't want this fish flavor to compete with that of the fish served in the soup. The manga is describing just what we had in Kyoto.<br /><br />The characters say the dashi is very subtle, but with a fine flavor. That is, even when there is no miso, the dashi must still be in the background. When the intensity of the mixins goes down, so must the dashi.<br /><br />I asked Hiromi about this by email. "The professional uses dashi properly by the dish. Dashi is deep, and interesting," she wrote.<br /><br />In summary, there is no one way to make dashi, but whatever you do, dashi can only be the soup base, it seems.<br /><br />To understand why dashi must be the background, I had been thinking about the history of katsuobushi. Like preserved foods the world over, it was developed in a time before refrigeration. Living off the sea, the early Japanese had a mixed blessing. The waters, when generous, supplied a wondrous variety of fish. But when the seas were rough, the schools of fish had moved on, and the supply drew short, what was left quickly spoiled in the heat. Rice supplied neither a complete set of proteins nor flavor that could be enjoyed indefinitely. So, I figured, the Japanese learned to turn fish to wood, so that it could enhance the flavor of rice in times of scarcity. To bring these flavors to the forefront would be prodigal: they are there only to help us enjoy what we have, to help us through the tough times.<br /><br />But I figured wrong! Other sources tell me that rice was just as unavailable to the early, poor Japanese as fish, perhaps more so. The least expensive grain was instead wheat. That, I guess, moves miso up in prestige. Does that explain everything, then? Miso and katsubushi are coequal partners? "Dissatisfied with my miso, I journeyed to Nagoya . . . " I like the sound of that.Matthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08801379298358735006noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21308831.post-47416797980387743682009-10-25T16:07:00.026-07:002009-10-27T10:37:17.496-07:00Ultimo post sul Giappone—dal Canada!Hi everyone! You thought I was lost forever? No. However, I am thinking I should change the title of this blog. I'm not in the US anymore! I moved to Canada about a month ago with Matt.<br /><br />I have now a job in Montreal. After a lot of struggle and indecision, I opted for this job over a few other offers I had, and here we are! I actually really love this new job and I'm immensely happy Matt was able to join me. So, so far so good. But, winter time has not arrived yet. We are still enjoying the last beautiful Fall days and I do want to take some pictures before it's too late and all the colorful leaves are gone.<br /><br />However, before I tell you about our new life, the cross-country move, and my summer trip to Italy after Japan, I want to write the last post about Japan, which will tell you about our last day and a half in Japan, discuss Japanese home food and a summary about what we've learned about biking in Japan.<br /><br />So, let's get started.<br /><br />The morning before we left Kyoto, we biked through the temple area. We managed to see one of the biggest Shinto shrines:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SuaEzKzl6MI/AAAAAAAAEGs/_MzoW43oMpQ/s1600-h/IMG_4800.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SuaEzKzl6MI/AAAAAAAAEGs/_MzoW43oMpQ/s400/IMG_4800.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5397147218059061442" border="0" /></a>.. And did a quick run through the Philosopher's walk, where all the most beautiful temples are. We saw some of them from outside, but unfortunately didn't have time to go inside. However, we met a really nice old guy, who kept trying to show us something in the small canals that border the walk. It took us a while to figure out what he wanted us to see: little frogs! We met him again later, showing the frogs to a kid.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh99imYv49SRNfRAgzQFboLfq8obkqc_rOHyDl7XcUo5viQGj8wUBYgzEmG6g26vHKggTGQwuQgrq1VtzMgfIv8vEZZnidQYgD-HEIc6MjveVrKFCBnjoQRM49DwL0nTPMAvTn1lQ/s1600-h/IMG_4808.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 314px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh99imYv49SRNfRAgzQFboLfq8obkqc_rOHyDl7XcUo5viQGj8wUBYgzEmG6g26vHKggTGQwuQgrq1VtzMgfIv8vEZZnidQYgD-HEIc6MjveVrKFCBnjoQRM49DwL0nTPMAvTn1lQ/s400/IMG_4808.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5397147220998637490" border="0" /></a>This is actually the last picture we took in Japan, showing a little sign of friendliness between cultures and generations.<br /><br />In a hurry, we biked back to Kyoto station, bagged up the bikes, and got onto the Shinkansen. We thought that would have been our last time with the bikes, as Matt found two buyers on the (English) craigslist who were willing to buy them from us at our arrival in Tokyo. However, one of the buyers flaked out, and we were left with Matt's bike. Luckily we found a hotel with internet, and emailed one of the previously interested, who agreed to take the bike. <br /><br />We managed to enjoy at least some of our last day in Tokyo. We took a walk downtown, and saw a South Indian restaurant that attracted us. Without even realizing it, we were missing spicy food! This Japanese Indian restaurant turned out to be fantastic. We had some amazing idlis made with semolina flour and raisin, and one of the best lamb curries we ever tasted. Again, Japan food really never disappoints, whatever cuisine one wants to try. (Though in this case there were at least Indians in the kitchen.)<br /><br />Our last evening in Tokyo was quite nice too. We found a little park in the heart of downtown, and sat on a bench there for a while. We were surrounded by trees and a little further, tall skyscrapers. In the middle of Tokyo, it was quiet.<br /><br />The day after, we sold the last bike about half an hour before we left for the airport. Thanks, craigslist! The flight back went smoothly, and in less than 10 hours we were back to California.<br /><br />-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -<br />Japanese home food<br />-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -<br /><br />As you know, we got to know many really nice Japanese families, either through the <a href="http://www.japancycling.org/v2/">Japan Cycling</a> website, or thanks to Matt's <a href="http://italianintheus.blogspot.com/2009/07/quest-for-katsuobushi.html">interest in katsuobushi</a>. All the people we met showed us what Japanese hospitality is—not only did they share their house with us, but they made us feel part of their family. They showed us around, helped us find bikes, brought us to restaurants, chatted with us, introduced us to their friends, even played videogames with us and their children . . . and of course, prepared food for and with us.<br /><br />Our first night in Japan (my birthday), we were hosted at Yukiko and Carlos'. I was so impressed that Yukiko had organized a cooking lesson for me! Every month she and a friend were taught one meal, and she planned it this month to coincide with our stay.<br /><br />So here we are, four women preparing food.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SuUOJynG07I/AAAAAAAAEEE/Sdo3kl17WiM/s1600-h/IMG_4374.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SuUOJynG07I/AAAAAAAAEEE/Sdo3kl17WiM/s400/IMG_4374.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5396735289840817074" border="0" /></a>The first dish was cold oden, with chicken meatballs, seaweed, tomatoes, wax gourd, konnyaku, and quail eggs. I was in charge of the meatballs.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SuUOKdQXGVI/AAAAAAAAEEM/UIaV-Fedo0A/s1600-h/IMG_4375.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SuUOKdQXGVI/AAAAAAAAEEM/UIaV-Fedo0A/s400/IMG_4375.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5396735301288139090" border="0" /></a>Here the chef cools down the carefully arranged soup in ice water.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SuUOKll8A8I/AAAAAAAAEEU/4KcxxNjWDCM/s1600-h/IMG_4382.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SuUOKll8A8I/AAAAAAAAEEU/4KcxxNjWDCM/s400/IMG_4382.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5396735303526122434" border="0" /></a>And the final result:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SuUOK-jlT_I/AAAAAAAAEEc/1hZetsFxdkg/s1600-h/IMG_4377.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SuUOK-jlT_I/AAAAAAAAEEc/1hZetsFxdkg/s400/IMG_4377.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5396735310227132402" border="0" /></a>We mentioned konnyaku already in <a href="http://italianintheus.blogspot.com/2009/08/due-notti-e-un-giorno-kyoto.html">this </a>post. This soup was deliciously refreshing—but we were told that it can be made warm, too, for wintertime.<br /><br />The second dish we made was a stir-fry with pork, pumpkin, and green and red peppers.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvel6zPdJn7F2rCzENlFUDd22AqfLjmo2PpDkc6tIkRmo-1IHwBfU4c_AtRWQFJlFxhN5_IDPw_01kr6AOQgSvdmMvtaN6loreuMiH4MMiP8fLwKXTL_rOhyS5MGSAsXwCbD2FUA/s1600-h/IMG_4384.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvel6zPdJn7F2rCzENlFUDd22AqfLjmo2PpDkc6tIkRmo-1IHwBfU4c_AtRWQFJlFxhN5_IDPw_01kr6AOQgSvdmMvtaN6loreuMiH4MMiP8fLwKXTL_rOhyS5MGSAsXwCbD2FUA/s400/IMG_4384.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5396736930363424306" border="0" /></a><br />And finally, there were two amazingly good side dishes:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsj1z8adDux0oDpkpuZI7s2WZdEyohOYkLdms0F-WmuQ08lJ-E0Cj-4J0j1didGRxJmg2WwCD8lysSI0zKgFH19_olo8VW8jHeZxOaPBoWHrxpxa4aSt9CSZBClbe4T8n2fpoh1A/s1600-h/IMG_4385.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsj1z8adDux0oDpkpuZI7s2WZdEyohOYkLdms0F-WmuQ08lJ-E0Cj-4J0j1didGRxJmg2WwCD8lysSI0zKgFH19_olo8VW8jHeZxOaPBoWHrxpxa4aSt9CSZBClbe4T8n2fpoh1A/s400/IMG_4385.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5396736938223819058" border="0" /></a><br />Rice with shiso and ume, and dashi with <a href="http://italianintheus.blogspot.com/2009/08/due-notti-e-un-giorno-kyoto.html">myoga</a>. The shiso-ume rice has since then become one of our treats. We made it many times in Berkeley (after buying a shiso plant), and we were very sad we hadn't seen any shiso here in Montreal. However, happy times will be back, as we just found both shiso and ume yesterday. :)<br /><br />The myoga dashi was oishi too. This was our first time seeing a Japanese person making dashi, so we discovered here the technique of dissolving the two miso pastes (red and white) in a spoon with some broth before putting them in the soup. But as you already know, we would have learned a lot more about how to make miso soup in a few more days. Matt will post about our dashi lesson soon.<br /><br />This joyful meal including an unexpected Japanese cooking lesson was a perfect birthday gift for me.<br /><br />The second night at Yukiko's, we made some Italian food in exchange. We made some tomato-shrimp spaghetti, and a pumpkin-sausage rice, which were very much appreciated. Matt prepared also his really good fried sweet potato and salami appetizer (I will describe it in another post). However, we realized that the salami we were able to find was not as acidic and flavorful as the one we used to get in Berkeley. Good salami and chocolate are some of the few things that we couldn't find in Japan.<br /><br />This meal was served with a good Italian wine that was brought by neighbor Pierre. We were joined by Yukiko's husband Carlos, and Masa, another friend from the <a href="http://www.tokyocycling.jp/">Tokyo Great City Tour</a>, who had been with us in the morning. If you check out the <a href="http://www.tokyocycling.jp/aboutus/aboutus.htm">'about us'</a> section of their website, you can find pictures and some details about Yukiko, Carlos, and Masa.<br /><br />On the third night, we were hosted by Yoko and Hideo at Yokohama. After bringing us around all afternoon to find our bikes, Yoko prepared dinner for us too!<br /><br />She explained that the day after was going to be 'eel day' in Japan. This is apparently an excuse to allow people to eat a eel in summer time, which is normally to be avoided, as eel is very fatty and caloric, better suited to sustain people in wintertime. But the Japanese love eel, so this is a welcome occasion. She prepared 'three way eel', which is broiled eel eaten either with plain rice, or with rice and some toppings such as green onions and ume, or eel with these toppings and dashi.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SuUVae6zRII/AAAAAAAAEE0/ozKs9gNuPRA/s1600-h/IMG_4460.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SuUVae6zRII/AAAAAAAAEE0/ozKs9gNuPRA/s400/IMG_4460.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5396743273193882754" border="0" /></a>The most complete 'third way' was our favorite:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfiZpGQc_WjHSgXlo7gfmheh8w2q93DkaXYlV_dHwTCy3BS7HKuNBGs-xjbQ117q4dgZ1BLFwaAoW2llHrWhQ4nEd62hILsAis8ixg5Dip_uGxTnFeWJ4UGFDqcu-r9WCwL7QWJQ/s1600-h/IMG_4474.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfiZpGQc_WjHSgXlo7gfmheh8w2q93DkaXYlV_dHwTCy3BS7HKuNBGs-xjbQ117q4dgZ1BLFwaAoW2llHrWhQ4nEd62hILsAis8ixg5Dip_uGxTnFeWJ4UGFDqcu-r9WCwL7QWJQ/s400/IMG_4474.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5396743278817633266" border="0" /></a>The eel was served together with a special dashi with clams:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SuUVaocm_1I/AAAAAAAAEE8/3H3w8xOHJo4/s1600-h/IMG_4463.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 334px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SuUVaocm_1I/AAAAAAAAEE8/3H3w8xOHJo4/s400/IMG_4463.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5396743275751604050" border="0" /></a>This dashi was made with miso paste from Nagoya which is particularly dark and flavorful.<br /><br />My contribution to the meal was peperoni con bagna cauda.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SuUVbSm1oiI/AAAAAAAAEFM/-bJOsNoH0YE/s1600-h/IMG_4468.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SuUVbSm1oiI/AAAAAAAAEFM/-bJOsNoH0YE/s400/IMG_4468.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5396743287068795426" border="0" /></a>I thought this would have been a novelty for Yoko and Hideo, but I was totally wrong! Not only did they know the dish, they even knew the Piemontese name for the the garlicky sauce, and they prepared it for themselves many times!<br /><br />The day after, Yoko prepared a typical Japanese breakfast for us:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhu1Ou69MUTwKg31lLuNi5mtTUrIfKcaS47FO9UxTR1kmzMP2FJKQHE2ITnJuO3WriZCCf4gdScM4CVgTxP4-JbgU4h2ww1PhF8zIHfu9_v1FSCHZbkwdrn1tF7TDFi3zFBuIjLEQ/s1600-h/breakfast.png"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhu1Ou69MUTwKg31lLuNi5mtTUrIfKcaS47FO9UxTR1kmzMP2FJKQHE2ITnJuO3WriZCCf4gdScM4CVgTxP4-JbgU4h2ww1PhF8zIHfu9_v1FSCHZbkwdrn1tF7TDFi3zFBuIjLEQ/s400/breakfast.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5396748133407096706" border="0" /></a>The central dish is a baked fish (we had this and some salmon), and it is surrounded by steamed rice, mountain potatoes with ume and sesame seeds, natto and a miso soup with sprouts. This is a traditional breakfast, but we were told that most people nowadays simply eat a bread and drink coffee.<br /><br />If you are curious, <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dioscorea_opposita">mountain potatoes</a> are a slimy type of yam, often eaten grated on top of soba noodles. Matt had them in this version when we ate our <a href="http://italianintheus.blogspot.com/2009/08/due-notti-e-un-giorno-kyoto.html">second dinner</a> with Iwao. <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Natto">Natto</a> are fermented soy beans, to be eaten with rice, which can be found also in Japanese restaurants in the US (not sure about Canada yet). They are also slimy and they have a strong, acquired taste that not even all Japanese like, so our hosts were quite surprised that we liked them.<br /><br />This was a delicious and healthy way to start our day. Yoko prepared also some ume onigiri and gave us some sweet bread that sustained us during our trip to Izumo.<br /><br />In Izumo, as you know, we met our friends Hiromi and Haruo, the owners of the <a href="http://e-dashi.com/">e-dashi</a> store that <a href="http://italianintheus.blogspot.com/2009/07/quest-for-katsuobushi.html">Matt ordered katsuobushi from</a>.<br /><br />We started our day in Izumo having breakfast with them. They brought us at a nice, French-Japanese breakfast place, where we had one of the best French toasts ever: light and fluffy, and not overly sweet or cinnamony!<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuvEOG1VOvsegq-o1YMHqnlZljhQiLZdxYLXvv3RLxBkTmV5ICaQ9cBjNTkXCXYXm3HObD_6w1kBZxxC-l9VT5c5rWkapYoHNC6tpxcB8SFl_72kOvV6-a8SYI4tpx5PaSMpRyzg/s1600-h/IMG_4490.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuvEOG1VOvsegq-o1YMHqnlZljhQiLZdxYLXvv3RLxBkTmV5ICaQ9cBjNTkXCXYXm3HObD_6w1kBZxxC-l9VT5c5rWkapYoHNC6tpxcB8SFl_72kOvV6-a8SYI4tpx5PaSMpRyzg/s400/IMG_4490.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5396751388195979346" border="0" /></a>As we would have found out later, Japanese are great chefs no matter what style of food they are making. Their really good results are the outcome of a deep study of the cuisine they are reproducing, and their additions are often quite nice, such as this green side salad and the piece of watermelon.<br /><br />After the <a href="http://italianintheus.blogspot.com/2009/07/giappone-prima-parte.html">visit to the Izumo Taisha</a> and to their store, Hiromi and Haruo brought us for lunch at a Tempura-Ya owned by a friend of theirs. We asked them to order for us, and we had a delicious shrimp and a vegetable tempura. Here they are at the restaurant, before the tempura was served.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwXLD7f24PAVoh2W5_xZjU4YddCd9KRJ-qsQFVN59xk2_ELSVkJmJhcjxwW9qtgeF_-HTZJLh3wUE6YxZWjLn5oF42O9zi0v9R7jtVCt0A0P8RswEij2MxLi6a7-o0oy0hctaj7g/s1600-h/IMG_4579.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 318px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwXLD7f24PAVoh2W5_xZjU4YddCd9KRJ-qsQFVN59xk2_ELSVkJmJhcjxwW9qtgeF_-HTZJLh3wUE6YxZWjLn5oF42O9zi0v9R7jtVCt0A0P8RswEij2MxLi6a7-o0oy0hctaj7g/s400/IMG_4579.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5396751399349647138" border="0" /></a>The climax of the day was the dashi lesson that we received in the afternoon.<br /><br />We were to leave after that, but a really strong rain convinced to stay. And what a gift that rain was! We would have missed a third delicious home-made dinner, and an unforgettable evening.<br /><br />For dinner, Hiromi and Haruo wanted us to try two foods we hadn't had yet: okonomiyaki and hand-rolled sushi.<br /><br />Haruo cooked a traditional okonomiyaki for us, with cabbage and pork.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SuUcztHy5yI/AAAAAAAAEGE/9UYPgqGTVn8/s1600-h/IMG_4615.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SuUcztHy5yI/AAAAAAAAEGE/9UYPgqGTVn8/s400/IMG_4615.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5396751403084605218" border="0" /></a>While Haruo was making okonomiyaki, we were helping the kids practice some English—which started working when Matt discovered some common vocabulary in American basketball. I'm happy at least he knew something about it. Then the younger child brought out an electronic device to show us, some combination of camera and portable computer. He showed how to distort the video of his dad cooking and, later, his face.<br /><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dzyFy22r4XPTkb_fhkJ6k6iW2y7Z2QQwcqJXC54KVt31jv8qVpxTotGZW2NzDwx-7PFm2HW4_GuZx0' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe><br />Between this and their microwaves (select any temperature!), we saw in Japan tomorrow's technology today.<br /><br />Back to the food, the okonomiyaki looked and were good.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguaOuK9QAj4db1meFQmzgP-auIP4B7R6mxwVDIS0SrIAMBI-PMO2GeOmOjfmyP1-qIT8LvmqUur79t9b-4BsMlLSiOPxpGoZQuQC_RGRL1vlnPgXUDbyKgtxMx9I6aeMPJOfkLwA/s1600-h/IMG_4622.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 296px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguaOuK9QAj4db1meFQmzgP-auIP4B7R6mxwVDIS0SrIAMBI-PMO2GeOmOjfmyP1-qIT8LvmqUur79t9b-4BsMlLSiOPxpGoZQuQC_RGRL1vlnPgXUDbyKgtxMx9I6aeMPJOfkLwA/s400/IMG_4622.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5396756721589070674" border="0" /></a>We described okonomiyaki in <a href="http://italianintheus.blogspot.com/2009/08/cicloturismo-in-giappone-iii-da-osaka.html">another</a> post, when we tried one in its home city of Osaka.<br /><br />Hand-rolled sushi is a convenient way to have sushi at home. A dish containing all the fillings brought to the table:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SuUcz5COeWI/AAAAAAAAEGM/cpVQ9gjNt7I/s1600-h/IMG_4623.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SuUcz5COeWI/AAAAAAAAEGM/cpVQ9gjNt7I/s400/IMG_4623.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5396751406282471778" border="0" /></a>Here we have a tuna salad, surrounded by tamago (Japanese rolled sweet omelette), yellowtail, salmon, cucumber, shrimp and shiso. There was another dish with eel, a big bowl of rice (cooked in dashi), and a plate with crispy seaweed. Everybody picks a piece of seaweed, spreads a thin layer of rice on it, and adds the desired toppings. I learned a lot looking at the children, real experts. Tuna salad and shiso went nicely together, as well as cucumber and salmon, for example. We really enjoyed both the okonomiyaki and the sushi. The warm and cheerful company made us feel at home.<br /><br />Afer dinner, we were brought upstairs, in the large tatami room of their hundred-year-old house.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SuUhpMZTxAI/AAAAAAAAEGU/mxAoQW4fetQ/s1600-h/IMG_4598.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SuUhpMZTxAI/AAAAAAAAEGU/mxAoQW4fetQ/s400/IMG_4598.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5396756720059139074" border="0" /></a>One thinks of these rooms as a static setting for Zen-like serenity, but of course, when real people live there, they do real people things. In this case, playing video games. We sat down on the tatamis and proceeded to play Wii Mario Cart against players from other countries. Matt shamed Japan with his poor showing, but then the kids took over, and executed a thrilling come-from-behind victory.<br /><br />And here is a group portrait.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SuUiXNoqLhI/AAAAAAAAEGk/q8w9k60AZzY/s1600-h/IMG_4627.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SuUiXNoqLhI/AAAAAAAAEGk/q8w9k60AZzY/s400/IMG_4627.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5396757510665940498" border="0" /></a><br />So this was our last experience of home-made food. We do hope we can go back to Japan and visit some of these people again, and some of the families we missed.<br /><br />-- -- -- -- -- -- -<br />Meeting Japanese people and sharing a bit of their lives was probably the best experience we had in Japan. What else did we learn from this trip, and what would we repeat or avoid if we went for another bike tour of this beautiful country? Here is a short list of our dos and don'ts.<br />-- -- -- -- -- -- -<br /><br /><span style="color:#ff0000;">Yes!</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Pack light.</span> We made quite a few people jealous at the airport, when they saw us with just two small backpacks and couldn't believe we had been there for so long. Pack just a couple of T-shirts, possibly made of some quick drying material, few socks and underwears, a sweater. We brought biking shoes but ended up using them rarely.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Bring a Japanese-English dictionary. </span>This was extremely useful. We had also a phrasebook that turned out to be less useful, especially after we lost it.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Try to learn some Japanese before going. </span>We knew very few sentences, some of them completely useless. Pimsleur's dialogue patterns—such as "You speak very good Japanese!", followed by the modest "Thanks, but I'm not skilled yet"—did not happen as advertised. However, what little we did learn gave us some ear for the language, which was probably better than nothing. We promise to learn more before going back.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Go to smaller cities in areas such as Western Japan if you want to learn some Japanese.</span> In Tokyo, Osaka and Kyoto, most people will know some English.<br /><span style="font-style: italic;"><br />Go to tourist offices to find inexpensive accomodations.</span> These are usually located close to train stations, and you will most likely find somebody who speaks some English or at least has a computer that you can use google translate with. They will ask you for how much you want to spend, and whatever you say will most likely be precisely what they'll find.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Buy the cheap plastic bags at a hardware store to carry your bike on the trains.</span> They are easier to use than the expensive sturdier bags you can buy at specialized sport stores, and about 10 times cheaper. You probably don't need to keep the bag after the trip, so the cheap ones (~$3) are perfectly fine. You can see <a href="http://italianintheus.blogspot.com/2009/07/giappone-prima-parte.html">here </a>that we fell into the trap of buying one expensive bag, but ended up preferring the cheaper one—the bike was a lot easier to pack into that.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Organize so that you can be hosted by some Japanese families, or at least meet with some locals.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;"> Be open to what happens.</span> A biking trip cannot be planned in detail, especially in an unknown country. So, be prepared to be ok if you have to spend more time than intended somewhere, or stop earlier than you thought if it rains or the distance turns out to be longer than you predicted.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Talk to people.</span> No matter how little Japanese you know and English they know, you will always be able to strike up some interesting form of communication. These encounters will remain in your memory better than many temples.<br /><br /><span style="color:#ff0000;">No!</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Don't try to buy or sell used bikes in Japan.</span> It really doesn't work very well. That's what we did, but we ended up using up a lot of precious time. Japanese really don't have a second hand market (this is an interesting cultural phenomenon by itself), so there's no active equivalent of craigslist, and the resale value of anything you buy in a store, used or not, will be about half of what you spent on it. Thanks to Yoko, we found a store in Yokohama that sold us the used bikes you saw <a href="http://italianintheus.blogspot.com/2009/07/giappone-prima-parte.html">here</a>, for ~$300 each. But we lost about a day and a half doing this, and then we spent many more hours trying to sell them, as explained earlier. The whole process was very stressful and not to be recommended. Probably best to bring your own bike, and suck up the expense for the delivery. That's what we'll do next time, or, now that we know some people, we may try to see if we can arrange some ad-hoc renting for the time we're there. This time, we couldn't find a place that would rent bikes for a week or so.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Don't go to Japan during the rainy season.</span> We were told that the rainy season would be over on July 15th, which was only partially true. In western Japan, it stops later. It's not as predictable as they would have you believe ("Rainy season will stop next Tuesday!"). However, probably better to go towards the end of the rainy season rather than in full summertime, when the heat would be unbearable.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Don't exchange food with your chopsticks.</span> This gesture is used only during funerals, when the bones are passed from one person to the other using chopsticks. The same ceremony is not appropriate for noodles, no matter how undercooked.chemcookithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17675842171888658314noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21308831.post-54516336071321282102009-08-14T14:34:00.040-07:002009-10-26T22:45:45.138-07:00Due notti e un giorno a KyotoIwao Takizawa, whom we were to meet for dinner, had translated into Japanese <a href="http://www.pattisherlock.com/">'Letters from Wolfie'</a>, a book by Matt's mom about a boy who volunteers his dog for service in the Vietnam War. Over the last several years, the two had conducted a lively correspondence, with subjects ranging from the Iraq war to Japan's <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Burakumin">buraku</a>. Matt had contacted him before our trip and asked when we might meet. Afterward, we would get urgent-sounding emails from him asking, "When will you be in Kansai?" Well, it was hard to say, since we were playing this thing by ear. In Tottori we finally had our plans finalized, and told him when we'd be in Osaka and Kyoto. Great, Iwao wrote, meet me in Kyoto at 6 at the City Hall and I'll take you to my favorite restaurant. We had hoped to find lodging by then, but the ride had taken longer than expected. We barely had time to wash off a bit at a public restroom.<br /><br />Iwao was waiting in the dark suit and glasses he said he'd be wearing. (He had just returned from Tokyo from the funeral of a famous professor at University of Tokyo.) After introductions, we started walking. Kyoto is famous for its haute <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kaiseki">kaiseki</a> cuisine, with some restaurants so exclusive that only known customers are allowed entrance. Though we didn't know it, we were headed for one.<br /><br />We were warmly greeted at Kyoshiki (meaning the four seasons of Kyoto) by women dressed in kimonos. They saw our bikes, and as if this happened all the time, insisted we should leave them in the garden just inside the outer door. We tried to refuse this offer, pointing out that our shabby bikes would be just fine out on the street. But they would have none of it, and Matt ever so carefully wedged the bikes between the even more carefully groomed plants.<br /><br />We entered and were guided to a private tatami room. We left our shoes outside and entered. A glass door separated our room from an interior garden; the room itself was (need I say) tastefully decorated with paintings of nature. Matt thought he would show off the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Seiza">seiza sitting</a> he had been practicing at home, but the okami could probably tell he wouldn't last 15 minutes, much less the entire meal. Saying "please, be comfortable," she persuaded him to sit cross-legged with his back against the floor-level chairs that are typically reserved for old folks with bad knees, and westerners. Here you can see Matt and Iwao just before the meal:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SoXib1_FJsI/AAAAAAAAD_s/7yPr6W0Rue0/s1600-h/IMG_4752.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SoXib1_FJsI/AAAAAAAAD_s/7yPr6W0Rue0/s400/IMG_4752.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369947098685187778" border="0" /></a><br />Iwao explained that we were to have several small courses, each in a different style. We had read about this type of meal in our guidebook, but didn't really expect to try it. As you will see, we weren't going to be disappointed.<br /><br />We started with some cold appetizers:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmDxVqVsmiOwul4SQoguDB0BmN740h18QDJmHAQKSH32e8RHlMBJT2nKd7_9w0sM09kJPNW0nMPxuX3Se8rpXvSLrDTqkJkcB811K0JsMMbasomd8ogZnreM-D-HgW84RtEqTG0g/s1600-h/IMG_4753.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmDxVqVsmiOwul4SQoguDB0BmN740h18QDJmHAQKSH32e8RHlMBJT2nKd7_9w0sM09kJPNW0nMPxuX3Se8rpXvSLrDTqkJkcB811K0JsMMbasomd8ogZnreM-D-HgW84RtEqTG0g/s400/IMG_4753.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369947106311716290" border="0" /></a><br />It's hard to explain exactly what the little cubes were. They were all prepared with fish; the leftmost one contained fish eggs in a gelatin, and was particularly delicious.<br /><br />The second course was <span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">sashimi</span>:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SoXidOk3Q9I/AAAAAAAAD_8/DpmHTs1Wp20/s1600-h/IMG_4754.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SoXidOk3Q9I/AAAAAAAAD_8/DpmHTs1Wp20/s400/IMG_4754.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369947122465981394" border="0" /></a><br />The white fish in the center of the bowl was hamo (pike eel), which was in season and only eaten in Kansai. Hamo was going to recur throughout the meal. As we later learned, it is a difficult food to prepare---removing its many small bones takes time.<br /><br />A <span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">clear soup</span> followed:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SoXidsH6azI/AAAAAAAAEAE/5rAWeKLDXE0/s1600-h/IMG_4755.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SoXidsH6azI/AAAAAAAAEAE/5rAWeKLDXE0/s400/IMG_4755.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369947130397616946" border="0" /></a><br />Clear soups are considered to be works of art, where the ingredients are as carefully presented as a painting. Here konnyaku noodles float underneath hamo wrapped in yuba. (Konnyaku is a jelly made from the root of a plant, often known as devil's root tongue. An interesting post about this can be found <a href="http://marcsala.blogspot.com/2007/03/theres-devils-tongue-in-my-stew.html">here</a>. Yuba, or tofu skin, is made by skimming the dried top layer from a vat of hot soy milk.) Oishi!<br /><br />The next course was <span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">yakimono</span>, or grilled food.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SoXieePPohI/AAAAAAAAEAM/H6ovI7qs7dU/s1600-h/IMG_4756.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SoXieePPohI/AAAAAAAAEAM/H6ovI7qs7dU/s400/IMG_4756.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369947143850140178" border="0" /></a> Here is <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Anago">anago</a> served with okra and seaweed. Anago is a salt-water eel, less fatty than regular eel.<br /><br />Then, a <span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">baked dish</span>:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SoXlvUSJdkI/AAAAAAAAEAU/0EJbfavqvZ8/s1600-h/IMG_4757.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SoXlvUSJdkI/AAAAAAAAEAU/0EJbfavqvZ8/s400/IMG_4757.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369950731770623554" border="0" /></a>Iwao explained to us that the most elegant way to eat this fish was to take small pieces off it with the chopsticks (easier said than done), and dip them in the sauce we were given. I ate all the bones, too, and Iwao finished also the head!<br /><br />A <span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">simmered dish </span>followed:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SoXlv6BWxNI/AAAAAAAAEAc/t2O0NHe61uQ/s1600-h/IMG_4758.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SoXlv6BWxNI/AAAAAAAAEAc/t2O0NHe61uQ/s400/IMG_4758.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369950741900739794" border="0" /></a>Hamo simmered with eggs and shiso.<br /><br />As a small break between this and the next important dish, we had a little <span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">sesame cake</span>:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SoXlwqPdlJI/AAAAAAAAEAk/Pp_Y2x9mnQ8/s1600-h/IMG_4759.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SoXlwqPdlJI/AAAAAAAAEAk/Pp_Y2x9mnQ8/s400/IMG_4759.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369950754844808338" border="0" /></a><br /><br />The next course was an elegant <span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">tempura</span> of asparagus in hamo:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9Jziw4NVJfs3QNFG7i8CjVpsAa3U0KAVQsr_a7X_3oq30ZaBV4UufMXbW8yY4KoGB0qy7kdDza8itZmf1NXhpLwuegcQl62AV11McLCrxyTjRgihu9fFOa8BH6xuoWlHDQ3sGvw/s1600-h/IMG_4760.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9Jziw4NVJfs3QNFG7i8CjVpsAa3U0KAVQsr_a7X_3oq30ZaBV4UufMXbW8yY4KoGB0qy7kdDza8itZmf1NXhpLwuegcQl62AV11McLCrxyTjRgihu9fFOa8BH6xuoWlHDQ3sGvw/s400/IMG_4760.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369950763569538978" border="0" /></a> These pieces were to be dipped in a broth, where we had previously dissolved a small amount of grated daikon, supposed to help the digestion. My enthusiastic stirring of the daikon into the soup earned Iwao's remark "more delicately!" -- Every gesture must respect the meal!<br /><br />A <span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">miso soup</span> was served with the tempura:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SoXlxm-zXjI/AAAAAAAAEA0/-otHwxis4HY/s1600-h/IMG_4762.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SoXlxm-zXjI/AAAAAAAAEA0/-otHwxis4HY/s400/IMG_4762.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369950771149495858" border="0" /></a>This was a delicate dashi with miso, green onions and <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Myoga">myoga</a>, an aromatic flower bud, seen earlier on the baked fish.<br /><br />The last savory dish was a trio of <span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">pickled vegetables</span>:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SoZxCYMPy9I/AAAAAAAAEBU/VDxoKhIDvpk/s1600-h/food2.jpg.png"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SoZxCYMPy9I/AAAAAAAAEBU/VDxoKhIDvpk/s400/food2.jpg.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5370103891353390034" border="0" /></a>In keeping with the overall restraint, these pickles were less strong than usual.<br /><br />Finally, we were served the traditional <span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">green tea</span>:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SoXpHco-Y1I/AAAAAAAAEBM/P0D8yodKFiQ/s1600-h/IMG_4767.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 309px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SoXpHco-Y1I/AAAAAAAAEBM/P0D8yodKFiQ/s400/IMG_4767.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369954444865594194" border="0" /></a>The okami prepared one bowl of tea in front of us, using a bamboo whisk to mix the matcha (green tea powder) and water until a layer of foam was formed. Then she came back with two more teas, served in cups of different color and slightly irregular shape. Matt commented that they were <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wabi-sabi">wabi-sabi</a>. Almost, Iwao said: His was wabi, mine was sabi, and Matt's was too green and bright to be either. She also brought us some <span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">red bean sweets</span> to finish the meal.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SoXpG_B2ZwI/AAAAAAAAEBE/ztzjeeYVw9M/s1600-h/IMG_4766.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SoXpG_B2ZwI/AAAAAAAAEBE/ztzjeeYVw9M/s400/IMG_4766.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369954436916864770" border="0" /></a><br />This meal was definitely one of the best of my life -- I rarely had some food prepared, presented and served with so much care.<br /><br />The eventful evening wasn't finished yet, though. Because we arrived so late, we didn't have time to reserve a hotel. But Iwao had an idea: He was the caretaker of a house in Uji, 15 minutes by car from Kyoto. The house was formerly owned by Senroku Uehara, a historian and former president of Hitotsubashi University. When he died, his daughter lived in the house for a few more years. After her death, the new owners were about to demolish the house and replace it with something up to modern standards. However, Iwao said, the house still had electricity and warm water. Most importantly, it held the scholar's lifetime collection of books. Would we like to stay there? How could we refuse this offer?<br /><br />The only problem at this point was what to do with the bikes, as we would need a car to go to Uji this late. Iwao had another idea, and said we could leave them at the Kyoto branch of the newspaper where he had worked for many years. He called a friend of his (who turned out to be also the real estate agent of the house in Uji), and this kind person came to pick us up with his car. Once at the newspaper building, Iwao managed to find somebody who opened the doors for us, and we left the bikes at their storage. We then left for Uji.<br /><br />The house was very large, built in the 1970s, and had indeed a very peculiar feeling. In the entrance hall, the wallpaper was starting to detach from the walls from the humidity. The hallway was divided by shelves, used for storage. A loft was visible from the hallway, filled with shelves and shelves of books. The most incredible room was the largest one, where we ended up sleeping. One wall was blue, and had Chinese-style marionettes hung on it.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SpTe7GHhdPI/AAAAAAAAECE/IivOHnmq4VE/s1600-h/IMG_4775.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SpTe7GHhdPI/AAAAAAAAECE/IivOHnmq4VE/s400/IMG_4775.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5374165362195657970" border="0" /></a><br />The other wall was completely covered by shelves of books. There was one more room completely filled with shelves of books, and two more rooms that probably were dining and living rooms, now used as storage.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SpTexkOxbDI/AAAAAAAAEB8/6X72dYlVS1w/s1600-h/IMG_4773.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SpTexkOxbDI/AAAAAAAAEB8/6X72dYlVS1w/s400/IMG_4773.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5374165198480436274" border="0" /></a><br />Iwao showed us around, then found some blankets and a futon in one of the closets and gave them to us. He then left, saying he would be back the morning after with three students, coming to help him classify all the books that were going to be taken somewhere else before the house was torn down.<br /><br />Once alone, we spent some time just wandering around the house. The books were a fascinating treasure. Most of them were in Japanese, but some of them were in German, French, and there were even some in Italian. They were all very old, mostly about history, but also religion, and literature. Some of them had clearly never been read, and their pages were still attached to one another, uncut. There were also some LPs, jazz and classical music. I imagined the scholar sitting on the floor at the small table in this room, surrounded by his books and listening to his favorite music. Would he have imagined what was going to happen to his realm? What would he have thought about us, young gaijin peeking through his books and possessions?<br /><br />We couldn't resist snooping around more of the house. The kitchen was full of surprises. Inside the many cabinets, each shelf was filled with boxes, each containing a beautiful cup, bowl, serving dish, or similar. Most of them were probably gifts that had never been used. It was impossible to look at them all, and we had to stop after a while. In a dusty corner, Matt found a glass jar of what he thought were ancient pickles. (The next day, the real estate agent surprised us by confidently opening the jar and taking a deep whiff---the jar wasn't of pickles, but rather homemade plum wine.)<br /><br />Iwao had told us that we could take anything we wanted -- but what could we have carried in the backpacks, our only luggage? So, sadly, we left to stay the kitchenware, the poster of Communist Cuba, the books, and the marionettes, which Iwao specifically offered to us. We just went to sleep on the futons on the floor, the windows open to let some fresh air in, surrounded by the strange atmosphere created by the dusy books and boxes, and spied on by the marionettes hung on the blue wall, waiting to see if we were going to take them with us instead of leaving them there, destined to who knows where after the house's demolition.<br /><br />Iwao arrived the morning after, as expected, with the real estate agent and three young women -- the students who were going to help him catalog the books. He had brought us breakfast, two bento boxes containing a large variety of sushi, omelets, and even some small pieces of ham. Moreover, he gave us two more boxes for lunch. These contained a special type of sushi, each piece wrapped in an persimmon (kaki) leaf, prepared with a special technique that would have allowed the fish to last for a few hours without refrigeration. We thanked Iwao profusely -- his kindness was hard to believe. We left the house directed towards Kyoto, after making arrangements with him so that we could see each other once more in the evening for dinner.<br /><br />In Kyoto we found our hotel as usual, by asking at the tourist office for a place at the highest price we were willing to pay. We were sent to a nice Japanese-style hotel run by an old couple. We got there at lunch time, so we gratefully ate Iwao's special sushi and finally left, looking forward to explore Kyoto at least for one afternoon.<br /><br />The hotel was close to the train station, and we knew we had to do at least two stops during our walk before getting back there, where we were going to meet Iwao for dinner: we had to get our bikes, stored close to the City Hall, at the newspaper building, and we had to go back to Kyoshiki, the restaurant where we had dinner the night before, because I had left my watch there.<br /><br />So we started walking towards downtown. On our way there we saw quite a few interesting things. The first was a Buddhist temple, in an area somewhat far from the main temple area of Kyoto.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SsA2HX6oa5I/AAAAAAAAECs/-K9_bMGdBR8/s1600-h/IMG_4779.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SsA2HX6oa5I/AAAAAAAAECs/-K9_bMGdBR8/s400/IMG_4779.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386364654642031506" border="0" /></a>We entered the gates and we found out we were allowed to enter, provided we took off our shoes. The inside was huge, covered with tatami mats smelling wonderfully of wood and hay.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjt34OvduB0FXUxx66i2xvI8kdxEb7Jjc-Abwr15IquhsPegnqhO6nSr6JBB7zOMfHCP_H-rr6ZmQxhXkqnap__fwssWKDW0V9CfmpqnvQR3M4XjpUj0gDlWHTisMnoWjXFN1MJ9w/s1600-h/IMG_4782.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjt34OvduB0FXUxx66i2xvI8kdxEb7Jjc-Abwr15IquhsPegnqhO6nSr6JBB7zOMfHCP_H-rr6ZmQxhXkqnap__fwssWKDW0V9CfmpqnvQR3M4XjpUj0gDlWHTisMnoWjXFN1MJ9w/s400/IMG_4782.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386364672480087202" border="0" /></a>Nobody was there, and we set there quietly, medidating for a while in front of the images of Buddha.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SsA2H0nPTII/AAAAAAAAEC0/kdC5-CkQzjQ/s1600-h/IMG_4781.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SsA2H0nPTII/AAAAAAAAEC0/kdC5-CkQzjQ/s400/IMG_4781.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386364662345321602" border="0" /></a><br />It was a powerful experience.<br /><br />After the temple, we saw a small hamono, or cutlery, store. An old man was sharpening a knife on a water stone, and seeing our interest in the shop, he invited us in. We entered, and Matt, ignoring for the moment the knives on display, asked about the sharpening stones piled up along the wall. The communication was a little hard, but we managed to understand each other with gestures and an electronic Japanese-English dictionary that the man owned. He showed Matt some very fine artificial stones, but Matt insisted he wanted to see some natural ones. He showed them to us, even though he made it clear that they were too expensive. While we were talking, his wife arrived with coffee for us. The man showed Matt how to treat a water stone, how long to immerse it in water, and finally how to use it.<br /><br />The man was very interested in us, and asked us where we came from. He took an atlas and asked us to point where exactly the places we named were. He then proudly showed us a postcard from the Pacific northwest of the US, sent to him by a friend of his. He also noticed we were carrying an umbrella, which was completely broken: we had just bought it a few hours ago at a 300 Yen store, because it was raining really hard -- however the umbrella broke almost immediately from the wind, and we were carrying the handle separately from the rest. The man pointed at the Chinese sticker and laughed at it. He then looked for a word on his electronic dictionary, and after some suspense he showed to us the translation of what he was thinking: "Junk"!<br /><br />Matt ended up buying one of the artificial sharpening stones, and the man gave us a two gifts to go with it: a mostly worn down natural stone and a very tiny knife, which he sharpened for us!<br /><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dyQCD5pIiKQO_L2I1D_Lzgnp-CLRpJ21-A57Lbz0VvsAcUmKPZ2XY2-ncP1KwRiIOHDQKFc1LrXBjQ' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe><br /><br />Here he and his wife are posing for us:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SsA2HG4kxeI/AAAAAAAAECk/Hd--pLNDW0I/s1600-h/IMG_4784.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SsA2HG4kxeI/AAAAAAAAECk/Hd--pLNDW0I/s400/IMG_4784.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386364650070001122" border="0" /></a><br /><br />We left with yet another cherished memory of Japanese hospitality, and walked on toward Nishiki market, in a more crowded part of Kyoto. The market proved to have a great variety of very good food. Here are different kinds of high-grade rice:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SsA2IvBYfwI/AAAAAAAAEDE/FpZg7IiqzhU/s1600-h/IMG_4786.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SsA2IvBYfwI/AAAAAAAAEDE/FpZg7IiqzhU/s400/IMG_4786.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386364678024232706" border="0" /></a>And here is an amazing array of pickles. Here we bought some pickled gobo (a root called 'burdock' in English) and ume, which we brought on the plane to the US.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SsA2lDw1AsI/AAAAAAAAEDM/jSjd8e6Tebw/s1600-h/IMG_4787.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SsA2lDw1AsI/AAAAAAAAEDM/jSjd8e6Tebw/s400/IMG_4787.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386365164628280002" border="0" /></a><br /><br />After the market, we walked back to Kyoshiki. As soon as the okami saw us, she knew what we were looking for, and gave us a small package containing my forgotten watch and, unexpectedly, a coffee table book with pictures of Japanese antiques and art. It was a gift, she said, from the restaurant for us. We were truly impressed by such kindness, especially since the book was probably worth more than the watch. Here is the okami, saying goodbye for good, at the entrance of the restaurant:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SsA2lh-qNKI/AAAAAAAAEDU/pCbn7gSqo6E/s1600-h/IMG_4790.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SsA2lh-qNKI/AAAAAAAAEDU/pCbn7gSqo6E/s400/IMG_4790.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386365172739355810" border="0" /></a>And here are my watch and the book. The watch will never have a nicer package than this!<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SsA2mOvipzI/AAAAAAAAEDc/kfokeuJ4jTc/s1600-h/IMG_4791.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SsA2mOvipzI/AAAAAAAAEDc/kfokeuJ4jTc/s400/IMG_4791.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386365184755541810" border="0" /></a><br /><br />It was getting late, so we went to the location where we thought our bikes were. We walked for a while around there, but were unable to find them! So we ended up running to the subway, and using it to get back to the train station, just in time to meet Iwao for dinner.<br /><br />He brought us at the top floor of the building built around Kyoto's central train station: it's new and beautiful, and the top has a gorgeous view over the station and Kyoto. We entered one of the restaurants upstairs, and Iwao ordered three complete dinners, insisting we tried three different ones.<br /><br />Matt's main dish was soba:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SsA2mrcabjI/AAAAAAAAEDk/vRSa03CL40c/s1600-h/IMG_4793.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SsA2mrcabjI/AAAAAAAAEDk/vRSa03CL40c/s400/IMG_4793.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386365192459939378" border="0" /></a><br />Mine was cold udon:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SsA2m8POB5I/AAAAAAAAEDs/D29SqqpRplw/s1600-h/IMG_4794.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SsA2m8POB5I/AAAAAAAAEDs/D29SqqpRplw/s400/IMG_4794.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386365196968003474" border="0" /></a>And Iwao's was sushi and tempura.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SsA28vgDr-I/AAAAAAAAED0/m6-4bcYK74Y/s1600-h/IMG_4795.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SsA28vgDr-I/AAAAAAAAED0/m6-4bcYK74Y/s400/IMG_4795.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386365571506089954" border="0" /></a>However, it quickly became clear that Iwao ordered his dinner for us. He kept insisting we take from his, because, he said, he could have that food any day. He also ordered some extra tempura and a beer. Japanese beer, Iwao said, was made good by the great abundance of good water. When the beer was polished off, he ordered sake, and when that too was gone, he asked Matt what was to be next. Matt suggested whisky, so Iwao ordered instead shochu, a distilled sake.<br /><br />For mysterious reasons, the dinner became more informal than the one of the night before, and a different, more down-to-earth Iwao emerged. He talked about about life, love, society and philosophy. At the end, he refused again letting us pay for any of the dinner.<br /><br />As Iwao took us by cab to our parked bikes, we were a little sad not knowing when we would see him again.<br /><br />So, we are almost at the end of our story in Kyoto and in Japan. The next post will tell you about our last day and a half in Japan, and some more about Japanese home-made food and what we learned from the trip.<br /><br />It took us a while to finalize this post, even though it was almost ready about a month ago, because in the meanwhile we packed all our stuff in Berkeley, took a road trip across the US, and moved to Canada. Anyway, we would like to dedicate this post to Iwao and thank him again for his hospitality in Kyoto and Uji. The house in Uji has since been demolished, and we were the last two who stayed there. Iwao recently wrote an article about our visit to Japan. Here it is:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SsA4KqIJbOI/AAAAAAAAED8/5rto6Kjj560/s1600-h/%E3%83%9E%E3%83%83%E3%83%88.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 283px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SsA4KqIJbOI/AAAAAAAAED8/5rto6Kjj560/s400/%E3%83%9E%E3%83%83%E3%83%88.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386366910093421794" border="0" /></a>chemcookithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17675842171888658314noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21308831.post-61893069883881585952009-08-12T00:26:00.021-07:002009-08-14T00:30:57.435-07:00Cicloturismo in Giappone III: da Osaka a KyotoWe left Tottori for <span style="color:#ff0000;">Osaka</span> by train. This leg of our journey involved a difficult decision, because we were supposed to meet another family from <a href="http://www.japancycling.org/v2/">Japan Cycling</a> in Takashima, on the beautiful Lake Biwa north of Kyoto. The original plan was bike there from Kyoto, but we realized that we wouldn't have been able to do this and still have time to visit other cities we wanted to see.<br /><br />(For American tourists there's a metric conversion pitfall one should be aware of: One converts the kilometers into miles, but then thinks to oneself that things are metric here, so the unit becomes kilometers again, e.g. 50km => 30 mi => 30 km--hence our surprise when Tetsuo told us that the ride from Kyoto would take the better part of a day!)<br /><br />So in the end we declined Tetsuo's hospitality, hoping we hadn't been too rude, and sad because we knew how wonderful it would have been to spend another day with a Japanese family.<br /><br />We knew from Tottori that the best way to get a cheap hotel in Japan was to find a tourist office and ask for a Japanese-style hotel, specifying precisely what you want to pay. (If you say, "We're looking for ¥10000 or less," you'll pay precisely ¥10000.) These offices are usually very close to train stations. The nice English-speaking officials at Osaka's told us to go south to an area with lots of cheap hotels. We biked south, and after crossing some huge intersections, we started really enjoying the city. Our ride was going to cross almost all the city, and we went through very different parts of it. Closer to the station there is the financial district, with elegant bridges, very tall buildings, and rose gardens along the river. Then we noticed some fancy districts, with expensive restaurants.<br /><br />Here we stopped at an intersection to look at a map, and a young man stopped and asked us if we needed help. After he gave us directions (again, in English: it turned out that most Osakajin speak some English), we started chatting and asked him about his favorite local food. He asked if we had some time, and invited us inside of the restaurant he had come out of. He invited us to sit and gave us cold barley tea. While we drank and watched the sous-chefs work, he printed out maps for us, to show us where we could find Osaka's famous okonomiyaki and kushikatsu. Finally we asked him what his favorite restaurant in Osaka was. He answered, "Mine!" We hadn't realized he was the owner of the place we were in. He told us his restaurant made mostly beef dishes, of high quality. He warned us that it might be too expensive for us, most likely because he saw our dress and transportation, and he knew we were headed toward cheap hotels. Unfortunately, when we stopped by the restaurant later that night, we saw it was completely full, and thought our shorts and T-shirts weren't exactly appropriate for such a place. Nevertheless, we were impressed that he had been so helpful to people who weren't even potential customers.<br /><br />We kept biking south, and crossed more and more very lively districts. Lots of people were walking and biking everywhere. The bikes especially seemed to follow no rules, going from sidewalk to road, with or against traffic: <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SoPJvx3HF_I/AAAAAAAAD-c/mn2QcIA-0Jo/s1600-h/IMG_4718.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SoPJvx3HF_I/AAAAAAAAD-c/mn2QcIA-0Jo/s400/IMG_4718.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369357003431286770" border="0" /></a>However, no car ever honked, and somehow we never saw an accident.<br /><br />The cheap hotel area was, as expected, a poor one. An interesting detail: the first hotel we asked in told us that they allowed only Japanese people! Perhaps they were tired of westerners, not knowing which shoes to use to enter the different rooms, and leaving crumbs on tatami mats, etc. Anyway, we did find a cheap Japanese-style hotel to stay at (¥6000), where the friendly desk clerk quizzed me about Italian football.<br /><br />The area close by was a maze of small streets filled with places selling street food and (mostly) old men playing <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Shogi">shogi</a>. The most popular food sold there was <span style="color:#ff0000;">kushikatsu</span>, exactly what we had been told to try. We entered one of the stores, where a team of young cooks was inviting us in, whereupon we were simultaneously greeted by the entire team. It was very crowded, with people (mostly quite young too) seated all around the bar:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SoPGKBqrQII/AAAAAAAAD-M/Th6xJx-rRP4/s1600-h/IMG_4715.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SoPGKBqrQII/AAAAAAAAD-M/Th6xJx-rRP4/s400/IMG_4715.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369353056304185474" border="0" /></a>Kushikatsu are skewers with deep-fried battered food. Each skewer has one or two bites of a vegetable (lotus root, tomatoes, ginger, etc) or meat (fish or pork).<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SoPGK4ra1aI/AAAAAAAAD-U/-B68ZWf4qHU/s1600-h/IMG_4717.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SoPGK4ra1aI/AAAAAAAAD-U/-B68ZWf4qHU/s400/IMG_4717.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369353071071253922" border="0" /></a>You eat them by dipping them in a sweet and sour sauce. The English menu emphasizes that sanitary practice dictates that if you want more sauce, you must scoop it with a cabbage leaf. You store the skewers in a wood cylinder; they are then counted for your bill. (The fancy items have longer skewers.) Most kushikatsu cost ¥100, and the fancy ones are ¥200. It's typical beer food, and in fact most places shut down around dinner time.<br /><br />Osaka became more and more lively as the night went on. Large crowds were strolling along streets that became more and more bright, for all the lights.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SoPJxftgkQI/AAAAAAAAD-s/w4Hg1Vtgdko/s1600-h/IMG_4720.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SoPJxftgkQI/AAAAAAAAD-s/w4Hg1Vtgdko/s400/IMG_4720.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369357032918913282" border="0" /></a>Restaurants were everywhere, with eye-catching lights and signs:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SoPJyDmkDBI/AAAAAAAAD-0/bpY6kOCmpZk/s1600-h/IMG_4724.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SoPJyDmkDBI/AAAAAAAAD-0/bpY6kOCmpZk/s400/IMG_4724.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369357042553457682" border="0" /></a><br />And stands on the streets were selling every kind of food, from grilled or fried meat to this delicious red bean filled, fish shaped snack.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SoPJwkqCcbI/AAAAAAAAD-k/-wE_oYtVsNU/s1600-h/IMG_4723.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SoPJwkqCcbI/AAAAAAAAD-k/-wE_oYtVsNU/s400/IMG_4723.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369357017066664370" border="0" /></a><br />I have visited many big cities around the world, from Paris to London to New York, but I had never seen such a large area completely filled with people out and enjoying the night. It was exciting and dazing at the same time. Some areas were even more bright and confusing, inside long galleries with lines and lines of stores:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SoPJy_A8XoI/AAAAAAAAD-8/tzCnEfyFVqY/s1600-h/IMG_4726.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SoPJy_A8XoI/AAAAAAAAD-8/tzCnEfyFVqY/s400/IMG_4726.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369357058501795458" border="0" /></a>After a while, our senses were overstimulated, and we were completely unable to choose a restaurant from among the millions. So we left the most crowded area and wandered around somewhat darker streets, until we smelled something delicious, and finally the hunger won over indecision. We had found <span style="color:#ff0000;">okonomiyaki</span>.<br /><br />Okonomiyaki is a savory pancake made with eggy batter and cabbage, topped with pork, and anything else you would want in it. It's served on a grill (sometimes they let you make it yourself at the table), and seasoned with mayonnaise, okonomi sauce (ingredients: tomato, apple, carrot, sugar vinegar, oyster flavor), and <a href="http://italianintheus.blogspot.com/2009/07/quest-for-katsuobushi.html">katsuobushi</a> flakes to taste. Here is our okonomiyaki, topped with pork, pickled ume and <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Perilla">shiso</a> (a relative of basil, so common in Japan that there is now a <a href="http://rinkya.blogspot.com/2009/06/shiso-pepsi-reviews-are-in.html">shiso Pepsi</a>). The katsuobushi flakes dance in the steam:<br /><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dwni1ESoePpkEGgU_6EIU6k9hG3b2omwyYmNUq4LF7K8S9BJg0NlKfaLhLgKepn2dM3nqWXJu4GbJA' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe><br />As you can guess, okonomyiaki is quite good and filling.<br /><br />Back to the more lively area, we listened to some jazz:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SoPO6Z5iVXI/AAAAAAAAD_E/VKwlVOohOSM/s1600-h/IMG_4731.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SoPO6Z5iVXI/AAAAAAAAD_E/VKwlVOohOSM/s400/IMG_4731.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369362683535709554" border="0" /></a>These young players were dressed for and playing swing era jazz. They were really good, doing swing standards together with songs such as 'I Wanna be Like You', from the Jungle Book, with some choruses translated in Japanese. The experience was enhanced by the presence of an uninhibited (and possibly loopy) old man dancing at front. He's the blur in red. Occasionally someone young would join him, or just help him restore his basketball shorts to waist level, or higher. At one point, he was joined by another old man wearing the Mingun Bell of bell bottoms, who practiced a (quite good) kickboxing-inspired style of dancing. Our friend Keisuke tells us that this whole scene is typical of Osaka's relaxed atmosphere.<br /><br />We completed our evening with a stroll along this peaceful canal.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SoPO60AotLI/AAAAAAAAD_M/2KJrcEp70Xc/s1600-h/IMG_4735.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SoPO60AotLI/AAAAAAAAD_M/2KJrcEp70Xc/s400/IMG_4735.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369362690544809138" border="0" /></a><br />Here we found a hole-in-the-wall place making crepes. While ordering, the chef asked me where I was from, and at my reply, said crepes came originally from Italy. I said, "Wasn't it France?" "No, no! That's what you might think," he said, "but in fact they were first made in Italy." Later on, I thought he may have been rightfully referring to crespelle, the lesser known, Italian crepes, which are usually savory and baked with a white sauce. His crepe turned out to be really good, as thin as the ones in Paris. Sugoi! To prepare to serve crepes from this hole in the wall, the chef/owner not only learned the right way to make them, but had also studied their history!<br /><br />The day after we started our final bike ride towards <span style="color:#ff0000;">Kyoto</span>. Before leaving Osaka, we stopped by the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Osaka_castle">castle</a>, which was on our way. The castle is surrounded by two impressive sets of walls. This is the external one.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SoRCgvDGCpI/AAAAAAAAD_U/pDFY6r4QsZ4/s1600-h/IMG_4742.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SoRCgvDGCpI/AAAAAAAAD_U/pDFY6r4QsZ4/s400/IMG_4742.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369489785885166226" border="0" /></a><br />It's a very elegant building, constructed between 1583 and 1598.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SoRChXmkLhI/AAAAAAAAD_c/BPiMJCefXzE/s1600-h/IMG_4747.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SoRChXmkLhI/AAAAAAAAD_c/BPiMJCefXzE/s400/IMG_4747.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369489796771360274" border="0" /></a><br />We didn't go inside, because we were hoping to get to Kyoto in the early afternoon. We chose to bike along the Yodo river, which connects Osaka to Kyoto. We guessed that we would find a bike path, and in fact, after getting lost a few times and fighting though vendors setting up for a festival, we found a wide bike path that followed the river almost all the way.<br /><br />Again, we misunderstood the distance on the map, and when we saw this nice sight on the east side of the river we thought that the skyscrapers were the sign of the beginning of Kyoto suburbs:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SoRWpJ4J1KI/AAAAAAAAD_k/0s93YBYo1uY/s1600-h/IMG_4749.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SoRWpJ4J1KI/AAAAAAAAD_k/0s93YBYo1uY/s400/IMG_4749.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369511920758543522" border="0" /></a>However, somebody explained to us that the panoramic wheel in the distance was that of Hirakata, pretty much half way between Osaka and Kyoto. We also learned about the importance of the elongated 'o'. We asked where Kyoto was, and the guy was completely confused. Then, after a while, he said "Ahh! Kyōto!" and then gave us a complex set of directions, which to our later chagrin we wished we had understood.<br /><br />We kept pleasantly biking along the river. Towards the end, unfortunately, we lost the path and had to bike along 171, possibly the worst road for biking in the whole trip. Looking at <a href="http://maps.google.com/maps?f=d&source=s_d&saddr=Ch%C5%AB%C5%8D+Ward,+%C5%8Csaka+City,+%C5%8Csaka+Prefecture,+Japan&daddr=%E5%BA%9C%E9%81%9316%E5%8F%B7%E7%B7%9A+to:34.807884,135.614204+to:kyoto&hl=en&geocode=FSQqEQId5q0TCA%3BFWRuEgIdBmoUCA%3B%3B&mra=dpe&mrcr=0&mrsp=2&sz=12&via=1,2&dirflg=d&sll=34.774332,135.587769&sspn=0.211505,0.349846&ie=UTF8&ll=34.922816,135.722866&spn=0.105562,0.174923&z=13">google maps</a>, it seems like we may have had to cross the river to avoid this part. We found the path again closer to Kyoto, and we arrived in the city around 4:30. We had a meeting for dinner at six, so we started looking for a hotel. However, crossing the city took us much longer than we thought, and we had just enough time to stop by a public restroom and wash off the dirt and bike grease before meeting our friend.<br /><br />[To be continued!]chemcookithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17675842171888658314noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21308831.post-47070283441710240602009-08-08T15:42:00.017-07:002009-08-13T14:01:00.386-07:00Cicloturismo in Giappone II: da Sakaiminato a TottoriWe left Sakaiminato with a medium-heavy rain, which stayed with us for about one hour in the morning. It wasn't cold, so it wasn't too bad---it just made us wet and somewhat dirty. We stopped for breakfast at a fast food place recommended to us by Keisuke. The chain, called <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/MOS_Burger">Mos Burger</a>, makes Japanese variations of burgers. We tried one made with a bun of rice, teriyaki beef or veggies, and nori:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/Sn4Av17oFwI/AAAAAAAAD8c/5EJsY7mfpqg/s1600-h/IMG_4670.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 287px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/Sn4Av17oFwI/AAAAAAAAD8c/5EJsY7mfpqg/s400/IMG_4670.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5367728627803232002" border="0" /></a>Quite good!<br />We kept biking for a while along highway 9. This wasn't as pretty as 431, but it was very well structured for biking, with large shoulders or ridable sidewalks:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/Sn4BvckkXII/AAAAAAAAD8k/ZL-WDjAcmYs/s1600-h/IMG_4671.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/Sn4BvckkXII/AAAAAAAAD8k/ZL-WDjAcmYs/s400/IMG_4671.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5367729720507260034" border="0" /></a>At some point, however, we didn't realize that highway 9 had branched (just before a largish climb) onto a divided highway where bikes weren't allowed. A car pulled over, and the driver was very worried we were on such a dangerous road (70 km/h speed limit). With gestures he got us to understand that we had to go back. We didn't want to backtrack, and it seemed from the map that there might be direct path back to highway 9. Indeed, Matt found a small road that brought us through verdant hills, with orchards.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/Sn4Bv2YhblI/AAAAAAAAD8s/JdiRZKS7l8M/s1600-h/IMG_4675.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/Sn4Bv2YhblI/AAAAAAAAD8s/JdiRZKS7l8M/s400/IMG_4675.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5367729727436058194" border="0" /></a>This road in the hills turned out to be the best part of the trip that day. It brought us down to this beach:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/Sn4BwH-1hoI/AAAAAAAAD80/yXrdZ0f8nuI/s1600-h/IMG_4677.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/Sn4BwH-1hoI/AAAAAAAAD80/yXrdZ0f8nuI/s400/IMG_4677.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5367729732160161410" border="0" /></a>And on the side of the road, we saw one of the many small cemeteries that we met a bit everywhere during the trip:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg74U2XAYXhVrYh4iQGAs5OLg7CczDaJAKanrrjqd3wVZluud1-5pwszGmZyYB3xiAKtWx5HUSX89gZvpb75khVDj7VL_8FHXSKOXoOqB8n3i9Pe1MXYhO0K6EzaNiZr2GkQMk6qg/s1600-h/IMG_4680.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg74U2XAYXhVrYh4iQGAs5OLg7CczDaJAKanrrjqd3wVZluud1-5pwszGmZyYB3xiAKtWx5HUSX89gZvpb75khVDj7VL_8FHXSKOXoOqB8n3i9Pe1MXYhO0K6EzaNiZr2GkQMk6qg/s400/IMG_4680.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5368246931289274194" border="0" /></a>Every small group of houses in the countryside had one of these graveyards nearby. This is quite different from both Europe and US, where there are larger, centralized cemeteries. I liked this idea of looking at life and death as two inseparable aspects, instead of segregating the dead, almost as if we were scared by them.<br /><br />From there we kept going east, passing some rural villages like this:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/Sn4Dq8-facI/AAAAAAAAD88/2RlL6nAp9qE/s1600-h/IMG_4682.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/Sn4Dq8-facI/AAAAAAAAD88/2RlL6nAp9qE/s400/IMG_4682.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5367731842329831874" border="0" /></a>In the evening, we arrived at <span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">Tottori</span>. The timing would have been good, had we known where we were going to sleep. It took us a while to realize that Tottori sand dunes wasn't as commercialized as my guide book said, and there were no hotels there. In the end, however, some very nice people reserved a hotel for us, after some struggles solved by an electronic dictionary. So around 8 pm we headed to downtown Tottori, looking forward to a long shower.<br /><br />Tottori surprised us with its lively nightlife. Many young people were out, and there were lots of places to eat. We really liked it.<br /><br />Here and there, we saw an Italian restaurant. Matt thought we should try one.<br />I resisted: Why go to an Italian restaurant in Japan, where the food would probably be bad? The point, Matt said, was to see what would happen if an actual Italian showed up in an Italian restaurant in a city where we had not seen any westerners. It did seem like an interesting idea.<br /><br />So we randomly chose <span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 255);">"Il piatto doro" </span>(yes, unfortunately misspelled; it should have been "d'oro"). The restaurant was on the second story of a building and there was no plastic pasta outside, so we really had no idea about how it would be inside. When we arrived, we saw a small room, with seating only at a long, wide wooden bar, behind which there was a blackboard with the daily menu and shelves and shelves of wine bottles. It was run that night by just two people, the chef and a host. Just the right atmosphere for a small enoteca-like restaurant. The kitchen was at the end of the bar, separated from the dining area by a glass window.<br /><br />When we sat down, I said, "Watashi wa Nihongo ga sukoshi wakarimasu. Demo, watashi wa Itariajin desu". This generated lots of surprised 'ooooohh', which are so typical of the Japanese expressive way of speaking. A habitue of the restaurant immediately ordered a bottle of wine and offered us two nice glasses of a really good barbera (a red wine from Piemonte!). Then, we had some grissini (breadsticks), and when I mentioned that they were made in my hometown we were given a lot of them as a gift for the trip.<br /><br />After a small consultation, we decided we would have a pizza margherita. The chef asked if we wanted it Neapolitan or Roman style. This was already quite surprising: he evidently knew the difference in crust thickness and softness of the two styles! To make sure we understood each other, he showed me an Italian cookbook in Japanese with pictures of what each style should look like. We opted for Neapolitan, my favorite. We were told there would be some waiting, because the oven had been off. We enjoyed our wine and breadsticks, and the suspense.<br /><br />Finally the pizza came. (I'm very sad I didn't bring my camera so I don't have pictures). The crust was perfect: puffy and soft at the borders, and very thin inside. The sauce was a bit lacking in salt, and there was too little cheese, even though it was good. However, overall the result was quite good, and I complimented the chef in all honesty.<br /><br />We started chatting about Italian food, and he asked me my favorite dish. I thought and then replied 'gnocchi alla bava' (a type of gnocchi with really good cheese), and I started describing how hard I thought gnocchi were to prepare. The chef then disappeared, and we kept drinking more and more of the house wine and the barbera that the habitue kept offering us. Shortly later, the chef had prepared some gnocchi for us, even though they weren't on the evening's menu. They were amazingly good! They tasted like potatoes and were very soft. My respect for Japanese interpretation of Italian cuisine became very high after that. We left really happy, and quite drunk.<br /><br />The morning after we were still tired from the long ride of the day before, so we decided to just bike and walk around Tottori. We changed hotel, opting for a very inexpensive Japanese style hotel. This was our bedroom:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1zAnUnfPAyOI0Lu_MTCg69z-1_PCgHrM5yOljQJ9yxCuAvPrS32XUFHxqLF7tRVETpA8a-XXjQxMbLGMw9CVd-9j7ysFTUcRoLERf3BayX97-xssVbqSOLzOzIo-Uw80iUaRQkg/s1600-h/IMG_4705.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1zAnUnfPAyOI0Lu_MTCg69z-1_PCgHrM5yOljQJ9yxCuAvPrS32XUFHxqLF7tRVETpA8a-XXjQxMbLGMw9CVd-9j7ysFTUcRoLERf3BayX97-xssVbqSOLzOzIo-Uw80iUaRQkg/s400/IMG_4705.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5368255253866666114" border="0" /></a>As you can see, it was a tatami room, and we had Japanese futons as beds. They are quite comfortable, especially if set on the tatami. The place was clearly a little cheap (the walls were made in a strange foamy material), however we were offered some red bean mochi and green tea:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/Sn_fuCAQJGI/AAAAAAAAD90/CM1eq3upmRs/s1600-h/IMG_4706.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/Sn_fuCAQJGI/AAAAAAAAD90/CM1eq3upmRs/s400/IMG_4706.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5368255262753825890" border="0" /></a><br />This experience was very meaningful for us, because we were partially inspired to go to Japan by an article we read in Bicycling magazine. The American author had biked throughout Japan, and reported about the read bean sweets and green tea offered at a hotel as an example of strange Japanese food. He said he was able to 'gobble them down' only because he was so hungry from riding. Ah, these open-minded American tourists . . .<br /><br />We spent the morning walking around Tottori's downtown, and asked for a recommendation for lunch at a coffee bean store we had visited. The suggested restaurant served us the best ramen we had during the whole trip:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/Sn_jKaY3EvI/AAAAAAAAD-E/pk1aKAHJtCc/s1600-h/IMG_4691.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/Sn_jKaY3EvI/AAAAAAAAD-E/pk1aKAHJtCc/s400/IMG_4691.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5368259048870712050" border="0" /></a>Even the cabbage was really good in that soup.<br /><br />In the afternoon, we went to the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tottori_Sand_Dunes">Tottori sand dunes</a>. We made our way there on a bike path along a river:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQ9-t1qxAuyLd5q0ugz0rajJ6kLnZjRwXmPdbzHjetnVrOyM0vbZMeeW0hAH9qc00YonBn7Ti4N1T6cKfwJe4rBhGNYoM7MwMADN8SiEIpuEmqxUZp5-7I-nCnDkit56focHj47g/s1600-h/IMG_4692.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQ9-t1qxAuyLd5q0ugz0rajJ6kLnZjRwXmPdbzHjetnVrOyM0vbZMeeW0hAH9qc00YonBn7Ti4N1T6cKfwJe4rBhGNYoM7MwMADN8SiEIpuEmqxUZp5-7I-nCnDkit56focHj47g/s400/IMG_4692.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5367736226319521634" border="0" /></a>And we arrived a few km from the dunes, on a beach, so we walked to the dunes. The dunes are quite large, with sand compact and dark brown. The little arrow in the picture here points to a man, if you can see him. He was playing golf.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/Sn4HqiqdJAI/AAAAAAAAD9M/WdpQJarlGjY/s1600-h/IMG_4695.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/Sn4HqiqdJAI/AAAAAAAAD9M/WdpQJarlGjY/s400/IMG_4695.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5367736233312986114" border="0" /></a>Back in Tottori, we wanted to try Udon Taira, which had been recommended to us by the chef and habitue at the Italian restaurant. As part of the recommendation, we had learned how to order two bowls of tempura udon. Unfortunately, Udon Taira was closed that day. We were really sad, but what could we do? We asked our landlady for another suggestion. She suggested an 'oishi' (delicious) restaurant just down the road, which we went to. We didn't consider that she most likely wasn't exactly the best person to ask for restaurant suggestions to, considering that she probably rarely went out to eat. In fact, the place turned out to be a chain restaurant, where the food looked quite good:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/Sn_futkR8iI/AAAAAAAAD98/d11uirqObZc/s1600-h/IMG_4708.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/Sn_futkR8iI/AAAAAAAAD98/d11uirqObZc/s400/IMG_4708.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5368255274447663650" border="0" /></a>But instead, the food was the worst of our entire trip. Just to give you an example, the brown bowl contains tofu with Hershey syrup.<br />To redeem the food, we went for Matt's favorite dessert, which he just discovered in Tottori the night before: Japanese green tea donuts, prepared at <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mister_Donut">'Mister Donut'</a>. The sign of the store said 'from SF Chinatown', and as we learned, this chain indeed started in the US (more on the East coast, actually). However, there aren't many Mister Donuts left in the US, and of course they never served green tea donuts. The Japanese 'Mister Donut' donuts we tried were actually very good, said by someone who usually dislikes donuts.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/Sn4I1_LyjqI/AAAAAAAAD9U/jVGJ00BqWhw/s1600-h/IMG_4686.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/Sn4I1_LyjqI/AAAAAAAAD9U/jVGJ00BqWhw/s400/IMG_4686.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5367737529459183266" border="0" /></a>We are quite sure now that Japanese can make pretty much any food from any cuisine in the world, reinterpret it and improve it. We felt the same with bread: there are so many types of breads, even though they are not typical of Japanese culture, and they are almost all really good.<br /><br />To conclude this post, here is the route of our second day of bike touring. It was about 110 km, including ups and downs to find the hotel.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/Sn4KoinbfqI/AAAAAAAAD9c/LkQNegxGueo/s1600-h/map3.bmp"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 172px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/Sn4KoinbfqI/AAAAAAAAD9c/LkQNegxGueo/s400/map3.bmp" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5367739497475440290" border="0" /></a>chemcookithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17675842171888658314noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21308831.post-65643311587164631622009-08-07T14:37:00.016-07:002009-08-13T14:01:35.269-07:00Cicloturismo in Giappone: da Izumo a SakaiminatoThe stop in Izumo signed the beginning of our biking tour in Japan. We left in the late morning, after the <a href="http://italianintheus.blogspot.com/2009/07/giappone-prima-parte.html">adventure of the missing key</a>, heading East. The first stop was <span style="color:#ff0000;">Matsue</span>, where there is one of the most intact <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Matsue_Castle">castles </a>in Japan, built between 1607 and 1611. The ride to Matsue was quite pleasant: the air was cool thanks to a strong rain from the night before, and we biked along the northern side of the very big and pretty lake Shinji, on highway 431.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/Snyh8cNBhvI/AAAAAAAAD7E/pqgqZbBASgA/s1600-h/IMG_4631.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/Snyh8cNBhvI/AAAAAAAAD7E/pqgqZbBASgA/s400/IMG_4631.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5367342915653830386" border="0" /></a>(My helmet is in the front of the picture.) The ride is only about 40 km, which was good for us to get to know and adjust our new bikes.<br /><br />At the castle, we left our bikes and walked around. One of the advantages of biking in Japan is that people can be trusted. We left our bikes unlocked, and the backpacks on them while we toured the castle. The castle is very different from European Medieval castles.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjz__2Zb7y8zioToToKB58xxlVmOoqXhSq5Y2MNCcbgmpzqv_E_Ln1Ryx7ou15bG7FHRFDjkh_7X6MPmuhd-f2bQql-bwMU7JM_drOfC6kOzYfPwMDB6SI90hVlDfxCd3ugxbQiPQ/s1600-h/IMG_4635.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjz__2Zb7y8zioToToKB58xxlVmOoqXhSq5Y2MNCcbgmpzqv_E_Ln1Ryx7ou15bG7FHRFDjkh_7X6MPmuhd-f2bQql-bwMU7JM_drOfC6kOzYfPwMDB6SI90hVlDfxCd3ugxbQiPQ/s400/IMG_4635.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5367342922830863986" border="0" /></a>Inside, everything is in solid wood.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SnyjAwS4-AI/AAAAAAAAD7U/XN6wkcbA9X4/s1600-h/IMG_4647.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SnyjAwS4-AI/AAAAAAAAD7U/XN6wkcbA9X4/s400/IMG_4647.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5367344089278248962" border="0" /></a>The castle was never touched by war, so everything is very well preserved. Outside there is a beautiful, large garden.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SnyjBacg8QI/AAAAAAAAD7c/csnwY8_7_zA/s1600-h/IMG_4650.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SnyjBacg8QI/AAAAAAAAD7c/csnwY8_7_zA/s400/IMG_4650.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5367344100592906498" border="0" /></a>And a few shrines. Here you can see the entrance to one of them.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8pyM2q20RQzyHN9QDJ7vcvQvey3Yi2sYr1rFED8CaBKwsEyc5hLI_7sYsFSA-dyFWB9wMW5jA81mYQLznQw5j0FAmXanamPS0rnX5S7Kmlqzvg5iUkQ9xkA-mhOoPMahqCGuaUw/s1600-h/IMG_4652.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8pyM2q20RQzyHN9QDJ7vcvQvey3Yi2sYr1rFED8CaBKwsEyc5hLI_7sYsFSA-dyFWB9wMW5jA81mYQLznQw5j0FAmXanamPS0rnX5S7Kmlqzvg5iUkQ9xkA-mhOoPMahqCGuaUw/s400/IMG_4652.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5367344103357059362" border="0" /></a>We spent several hours in the castle, and then went back on 431, heading still northeast. We realized we were hungry, and started looking for food. Matt spotted a stand selling what we later learned was called <span style="color:#ff0000;">'takoyaki'</span>. Takoyaki is a typical street food from Osaka, consisting of balls of eggy dough with a piece of octopus inside. Ours was prepared by this guy:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuZKwvr98YkCqCoMEj6zDbbwN_Iye_LsMdOcfhDdM31orjume4rAc2CbcpIixZmFd3jcxfEGhwzbTBzoQV6DWYh8Kc2vorN35pDjzvYfXM6-80J0X6krAYYNk4NF-xIiAF84oEeg/s1600-h/IMG_4658.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 277px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuZKwvr98YkCqCoMEj6zDbbwN_Iye_LsMdOcfhDdM31orjume4rAc2CbcpIixZmFd3jcxfEGhwzbTBzoQV6DWYh8Kc2vorN35pDjzvYfXM6-80J0X6krAYYNk4NF-xIiAF84oEeg/s400/IMG_4658.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5367345764259924514" border="0" /></a><br />As you can see, he fills some hemispherical molds with batter.<br />When the batter starts congealing, he folds the dough and makes balls using just two metallic skewers. He was really fast!<br /><br /><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dweUmBBLOqYdrkQCpbrtHw1phqNMdydpio7CD_dHdmNsup52kxtoW5se7j-gL41BcUoQM6kh4zg8ew' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe><br /><br />Takoyaki is served with sauce and toppings, and is a delicious small meal.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SnykisZ4u3I/AAAAAAAAD70/sxWSrk3Rc9g/s1600-h/IMG_4662.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SnykisZ4u3I/AAAAAAAAD70/sxWSrk3Rc9g/s400/IMG_4662.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5367345771861031794" border="0" /></a><br />After this break, we resumed biking on 431. The landscapes were really pretty, and somewhat eerie. Pictures hardly capture the atmosphere created by the fog, the dark green, and the few houses with blue mountains on the background:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SnyulL-B21I/AAAAAAAAD8U/h6gyFgMeZSA/s1600-h/IMG_4664.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SnyulL-B21I/AAAAAAAAD8U/h6gyFgMeZSA/s400/IMG_4664.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5367356809810139986" border="0" /></a>We enjoyed this ride so much that we actually missed a turn we meant to take:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SnymXoXUaQI/AAAAAAAAD8E/tlsmbRynkQo/s1600-h/IMG_4667.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SnymXoXUaQI/AAAAAAAAD8E/tlsmbRynkQo/s400/IMG_4667.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5367347780821215490" border="0" /></a>We biked past this bridge, onto a quiet peninsula. Luckily Matt realized that we should have crossed the bridge before it became too dark.<br /><br />We stopped for the night in <span style="color:#ff0000;">Sakaiminato</span>, in a small hotel downtown, after looking for a place for a long time. Looking for a hotel always turned out to be harder than we thought, so we often spent about one hour at the end of a long bike ride just to find a place to stay. A big part of this was due to our difficulties in communicating with people. Everybody was very nice and tried to help in every possible way. However, it was frustrating not to be able to understand and say what we would have liked to say, so we really want to learn more Japanese for the next time we visit.<br /><br />Because of this delay, we ended up looking for food in Sakaiminato late at night, and we ended up trying bar food in Japan for the first time! We enjoyed it very much, but unfortunately I didn't take pictures of it. The best thing was a huge pile of cabbage, covered by eggs, with bacon on a side: Matt dubbed it a 'deconstructed <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Okonomiyaki">okonomiyaki</a>', which is a savory pancake made with the same ingredients (to be described in later posts). Does any expert in Japanese bar food know what I'm talking about?<br /><br />Here is the route for our first day of cycling:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SnyqrhPVJ0I/AAAAAAAAD8M/ub21tU7w8f8/s1600-h/map2.bmp"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 218px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SnyqrhPVJ0I/AAAAAAAAD8M/ub21tU7w8f8/s400/map2.bmp" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5367352520552556354" border="0" /></a><br /><br />The second day in a future post!chemcookithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17675842171888658314noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21308831.post-39674488346552509642009-08-06T02:26:00.005-07:002009-08-06T05:53:18.114-07:00Quest for Katsuobushi: Intermezzo Anacronistico[Another guest post by Matt.]<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicbqhGAMxADbWNoOwYNjp8M8mSYOhd8Jh0Dl2qntc-yC0p4gdNSGToPAc-4DvXuzdtJrXaO7Mzm31z0TEn6AduLUjkBAriaBawYm3iab7uiqKFEC2OeyNClo6PJBa-8BRp-woG/s1600-h/intermezzo.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 243px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicbqhGAMxADbWNoOwYNjp8M8mSYOhd8Jh0Dl2qntc-yC0p4gdNSGToPAc-4DvXuzdtJrXaO7Mzm31z0TEn6AduLUjkBAriaBawYm3iab7uiqKFEC2OeyNClo6PJBa-8BRp-woG/s400/intermezzo.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5366780738738592642" border="0" /></a><br />Miso soup, onigiri with rice cooked in dashi, and gobo and ume/shiso pickles around said rice atop an aromatic bed of kombu, topped with a Möbius band of nori, swayed by a breeze that has passed over freshly shaved katsuobushi.<br /><br />[While the Italianintheus is in Italy, the boy will play.]Matthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08801379298358735006noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21308831.post-85677412829926267952009-07-28T18:34:00.028-07:002009-08-15T10:38:45.745-07:00Viaggio in Giappone: da Tokyo a IzumoI've stopped blogging for a while for some good reasons. At first, I was finishing up some stuff from my work at Berkeley. Then my mom came to visit me for 12 days. It was really nice to have her here, and I could write a few posts about what we visited in that period. Finally Matt and I just came back from a wonderful trip to Japan, lasted 13 days. We had so many diverse experiences that I want to write down a few of them before I forget. So, I hope you'll enjoy this series of posts about Japan (some of them may be written by Matt), and please bear with me if I still haven't posted the roundup for the last Fresh Produce of the Month. <br /><br />We landed in <font color="#ff0000">Tokyo</font>, Narita Airport, on July 15th -- my birthday! For the first two nights we were hosted by a Japanese family (Yukiko & Carlos), living in the Shinbuya district of Tokyo. We found this family through the really nice website <a href="http://www.japancycling.org/v2/">'Japan Cycling'</a>. This is a great resource for anybody who's interested in biking in Japan. There are many suggested bike trips, a forum where you can post questions, and lists of people who are available to give you information, guided tours, or even host you for a few nights during your trip to Japan. We were hosted by two different families, and were going to be hosted by a third, had our trip plan allowed that. We found these experiences incredibly rewarding, and received much more than a bed to sleep.<br /><br />So, for the first night in Tokyo, Yukiko had planned a Japanese cooking lesson for us! It was a wonderful birthday present for me. More details about this in a dedicated food post. The morning after, she brought us for a bike ride in Tokyo. This was a great experience, part of the <a href="http://www.tokyocycling.jp/">'Tokyo Great Cycling Tour'</a> that she runs together with a few other people, highly recommended if you want a guided 1-day bike tour in Tokyo. We started at 4:30 in the morning, in order to get to see the tuna auction at the famous Tokyo fish market. At this time of the day, lots of frozen tuna arrives at the market.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/Sm_fK-t4CJI/AAAAAAAAD4U/l1V_NhMhCoo/s1600-h/IMG_4397.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/Sm_fK-t4CJI/AAAAAAAAD4U/l1V_NhMhCoo/s400/IMG_4397.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363751060948650130" border="0"></a>And at 5 am, the auction starts. <br /><br /><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dxRs-naf1ByTSgfFY5D7KtSQ4wyte66ofVHZqacImZje2gfDQkUfUzBHkKlVuxJZ4iLBnTBUNBJCAI' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe><br /><br />I had never been to an auction before, but Matt told me that it was quite similar to auctions in the US. <br />Shortly after, we had our first really good sushi. The sushi at the Tokyo Fish Market is one of the best you can have, and apparently early in the morning is the best time to try it. Here is our proud sushi chef, holding a shiso leaf.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcbk6hEE6agJN1_M2JPc8GDrTGxgHQPn_sJiuBGZwdFNUoe1A7qh1kTyoRRKTZfBVe4u7jfWQyq-5BAilgFVVpwYq8ITbYAMiVuFBxMXgVO4eViT9P4tCHRlqPb0iCxSxdeNQLog/s1600-h/IMG_4416.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcbk6hEE6agJN1_M2JPc8GDrTGxgHQPn_sJiuBGZwdFNUoe1A7qh1kTyoRRKTZfBVe4u7jfWQyq-5BAilgFVVpwYq8ITbYAMiVuFBxMXgVO4eViT9P4tCHRlqPb0iCxSxdeNQLog/s400/IMG_4416.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363753225568628434" border="0"></a>And here is some of the fish he used for sushi. It was definitely the best sushi we ever had, and still is.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/Sm_hJP0jzqI/AAAAAAAAD4k/qIsINSBj7aY/s1600-h/IMG_4417.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/Sm_hJP0jzqI/AAAAAAAAD4k/qIsINSBj7aY/s400/IMG_4417.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363753230203604642" border="0"></a>During our bike ride through Tokyo, we discovered how multifaceted this city is: small canals running between skyscrapers..<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/Sm_iEJg3ERI/AAAAAAAAD4s/vPXL45Oz9d0/s1600-h/IMG_4425.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/Sm_iEJg3ERI/AAAAAAAAD4s/vPXL45Oz9d0/s400/IMG_4425.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363754242122649874" border="0"></a>.. Hidden shrines.. <br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/Sm_iEsbelgI/AAAAAAAAD40/jcF2ZsHfjfE/s1600-h/IMG_4426.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/Sm_iEsbelgI/AAAAAAAAD40/jcF2ZsHfjfE/s400/IMG_4426.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363754251495314946" border="0"></a>.. And very tall buildings with lots of signs on them (we just found out these particular ones are ads for bars, on the left side, and loan companies, on the right side).<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiw20-Biw3Dxga2pYLafD5dMJMYoCwBfh6Q-UvckaN-KqYUy1fbCh64nllFIVvK41ge-xqw-JlhxDET3igOrrNkcNzvaWLuf1YXsswOIf7CVc9PbgieM4DFOCXLF2qvUAgLCeWxLQ/s1600-h/IMG_4392.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiw20-Biw3Dxga2pYLafD5dMJMYoCwBfh6Q-UvckaN-KqYUy1fbCh64nllFIVvK41ge-xqw-JlhxDET3igOrrNkcNzvaWLuf1YXsswOIf7CVc9PbgieM4DFOCXLF2qvUAgLCeWxLQ/s400/IMG_4392.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363755559485719026" border="0"></a><br />This is a typical shot of old, sacred Tokyo, together with modern Tokyo:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/Sm_jRS8teYI/AAAAAAAAD5E/woz4m_4aBwQ/s1600-h/IMG_4448.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/Sm_jRS8teYI/AAAAAAAAD5E/woz4m_4aBwQ/s400/IMG_4448.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363755567505308034" border="0"></a><br />Later, Matt and I walked through downtown Tokyo, again wandering through a mixture of small alleys..<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/Sm_u5hP5JmI/AAAAAAAAD5M/OysMO1XbV-0/s1600-h/IMG_4450.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/Sm_u5hP5JmI/AAAAAAAAD5M/OysMO1XbV-0/s400/IMG_4450.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363768353166534242" border="0"></a>.. and large boulevards<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhd015Zdx88to6vRbMKfJ0hDIqr8vJMcolPY5xRES7BjUspQrHsbPThLOF8R7ZvHTgAl4zT0qM6M383YfddPKbl4CgvqcGewnAvmzjS-e1zsa5mZOjE4QA-rY3X4sjYwXLFhOAWJA/s1600-h/IMG_4456.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhd015Zdx88to6vRbMKfJ0hDIqr8vJMcolPY5xRES7BjUspQrHsbPThLOF8R7ZvHTgAl4zT0qM6M383YfddPKbl4CgvqcGewnAvmzjS-e1zsa5mZOjE4QA-rY3X4sjYwXLFhOAWJA/s400/IMG_4456.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363768363311158018" border="0"></a><br />just a few blocks away from each other.<br /><br />On the third day, we rode a train to <font color="#ff0000">Yokohama</font>, where we met our second host family, Yoko and Hideo. Yoko brought us around Yokohama all the afternoon looking for bikes. The quest for bikes turned out to be a lot harder than we thought, and it will be the subject of another post. Anyway, after many hours spent both in Tokyo with Yukiko and in Yokohama with Yoko, we finally got the two bikes: a red Louis Garneau that I used<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/Sm_xJYxkcsI/AAAAAAAAD5c/RkRNZLkJCEw/s1600-h/IMG_4484.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/Sm_xJYxkcsI/AAAAAAAAD5c/RkRNZLkJCEw/s400/IMG_4484.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363770824793027266" border="0"></a><br />and Matt's first Corvette.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/Sm_xJxTr8mI/AAAAAAAAD5k/ErDQb3jTlhw/s1600-h/IMG_4485.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/Sm_xJxTr8mI/AAAAAAAAD5k/ErDQb3jTlhw/s400/IMG_4485.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363770831378575970" border="0"></a><br />The evening with Yoko and Hideo was very pleasant, and we had some cultural food exchange: the day after was going to be 'eel day', so Yoko prepared 'Three style eel', and I made some <a href="http://italianintheus.blogspot.com/2008/01/bagna-caoda.html">'peperoni con bagna caoda'</a> for them. I thought I would do something new for them, but to me surprise, they perfectly knew what 'bagna caoda' was, as soon as I mentioned the name of it... This was the first time I realized how well Japanese people know about Italian cuisine. Here are Yoko and Hideo, cheering with us:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SnANhaOaJZI/AAAAAAAAD5s/QFoTrpzrQwU/s1600-h/IMG_4473.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SnANhaOaJZI/AAAAAAAAD5s/QFoTrpzrQwU/s400/IMG_4473.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363802023824860562" border="0"></a> We also had a very nice traditional Japanese breakfast with them the day after, and we planned a little of our bike trip together. Then, we packed our bikes, and left on the shinkansen train for Okoyama, where we were to get on another express train for <font color="#ff0000">Izumo</font>.<br /><br />You can see a sketch of our trip here:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SnAXRuYeVWI/AAAAAAAAD58/Z8M6Qk2yfp4/s1600-h/map.bmp"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 283px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SnAXRuYeVWI/AAAAAAAAD58/Z8M6Qk2yfp4/s400/map.bmp" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363812749474157922" border="0"></a>The transfers that we did by train are the black lines, whereas the bike rides are in red (obviously, much less straight than these lines :) ).<br /><br />Why Izumo? Every Japanese person we met asked this with an accompanying 'ooooohh' expressing deep surprise. Well, Izumo has the oldest and one of the largest shrines in Japan. Also, it's on a flat part of Japan, from which we could easily bike eastwards, towards Kyoto. Finally, in Izumo there is the <a href="http://italianintheus.blogspot.com/2009/07/quest-for-katsuobushi.html">'e-dashi' store that Matt recently ordered katsuobushi from</a>, and we really wanted to meet their owners. The part of this story relative to katsuobushi will be written by Matt in another post. Here I will just say that the visit with Hiromi and her family was really memorable. We got to spend time as a family for a whole day and a half. They brought us out for breakfast and lunch, and we visited the Izumo Taisha (shrine) together. The Taisha is huge. <br />This is the front entrance, leading into a forest. <br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SnAfS0Q3Z2I/AAAAAAAAD6U/PBJ2J9KhVr8/s1600-h/IMG_4508.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SnAfS0Q3Z2I/AAAAAAAAD6U/PBJ2J9KhVr8/s400/IMG_4508.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363821564325750626" border="0"></a>Before approaching the shrine, you must ritually wash your hands.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SnAfSY63neI/AAAAAAAAD6M/oNkkXN2o54Q/s1600-h/IMG_4522.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SnAfSY63neI/AAAAAAAAD6M/oNkkXN2o54Q/s400/IMG_4522.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363821556985732578" border="0"></a><br />Once at the shrine, you should throw a symbolic offer in a box right outside, then bow and clap your hands, and bow again. These ritual movements should be repeated a precise number of times, and performed together with the person you love for a blessing for your future life together. Matt and I tried -- although our attempt was rather clumsy, and we earned some laughs from the people in line after us. <br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SnAfRqHt8iI/AAAAAAAAD6E/hy0kDTy-D38/s1600-h/IMG_4523.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SnAfRqHt8iI/AAAAAAAAD6E/hy0kDTy-D38/s400/IMG_4523.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363821544423158306" border="0"></a><br /><br />The shrine has a number of smaller temples, and in a particular spot people buy <font color="#ff0000">omikuji</font>, little pieces of paper with writings that predict good things happening to you in the year to come, or things you should pay attention to. Here was mine.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SnAgj1VohRI/AAAAAAAAD6c/ywBKCCQggx4/s1600-h/IMG_4529.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SnAgj1VohRI/AAAAAAAAD6c/ywBKCCQggx4/s400/IMG_4529.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363822956183586066" border="0"></a><br />After you get your omikuji, you should then tie it to a tree closeby, for the good things to become true. Here are Matt and Hiromi's husband Haruo tying theirs.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia4usjvLa_mIOzT4RaC-uohREjZGPgprZRonadcid4sfk0zryOgr7CgbjN_DTxMIOlm4wQYDfjl1W0qgSN-ZE30K58hRP2uZYz8zJyaE5GyAK-xMZkDuceJ2daWBo6dz88dKXF3g/s1600-h/IMG_4543.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia4usjvLa_mIOzT4RaC-uohREjZGPgprZRonadcid4sfk0zryOgr7CgbjN_DTxMIOlm4wQYDfjl1W0qgSN-ZE30K58hRP2uZYz8zJyaE5GyAK-xMZkDuceJ2daWBo6dz88dKXF3g/s400/IMG_4543.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363822965636841090" border="0"></a><br />And here is how one of the trees looked like, with all the omikuji tied to!<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SnAgk1cFxbI/AAAAAAAAD6s/9fy6vI__ktE/s1600-h/IMG_4544.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SnAgk1cFxbI/AAAAAAAAD6s/9fy6vI__ktE/s400/IMG_4544.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363822973390538162" border="0"></a><br />Another good-luck action you can do is throwing a coin in the air, so that it gets stuck between the straw of the huge knots hung in front of another temple. This is a pretty hard thing to achieve, because the straw is very thick, so the coins mostly bounce back. However, Matt was able to get his coin in at the first attempt! I gave up after a few times, instead. <br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEM2rko0ados6cmlEDxZOGdGtzryfRXGmxnSdgpcJ9fO5_mt8S5iUxGKQfMbYU0BJwOv9MWyFob0PFSQoM3BYZE2X_uQn9hBdggwWiHCoSra-mepLrlDYQQN7Ox1Heo5L9IFFpWQ/s1600-h/IMG_4552.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEM2rko0ados6cmlEDxZOGdGtzryfRXGmxnSdgpcJ9fO5_mt8S5iUxGKQfMbYU0BJwOv9MWyFob0PFSQoM3BYZE2X_uQn9hBdggwWiHCoSra-mepLrlDYQQN7Ox1Heo5L9IFFpWQ/s400/IMG_4552.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363824736194799010" border="0"></a><br />After the visit to the shrine and a dashi-making lesson that will be described later, we were planning on leaving by bike to Matsue. However, a tremendous rain stopped us, and therefore we spent the evening in the really pleasant company of Hiromi and her family, tasting some more wonderful homecooked Japanese food. <br /><br />The day after, we were finally ready for our first day of serious biking. Right before leaving, though, Matt realized that something very important was missing: his keys! These not only included the Berkeley house keys, but also the only copy of the bike lock that we just used to tie our bikes together in front of the hotel. The lock was a pretty serious U-lock, almost impossible to pick. And, it was a national holiday, so no professional could help us. Our savior turned out to be Hiromi's friend Mairin, who had already been of great help translating our English into Japanese and viceversa the day before. Her husband, aka Superman, took our bikes to his shop, and with an electric saw he cut through the U-lock in less than thirty seconds.<br />So here we are, finally, really ready to leave -- Matt and Hiromi, at the two ends of the group, are holding the two pieces of the broken lock. <br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SnAkIz6kZfI/AAAAAAAAD68/Fa9WhvntIYE/s1600-h/IMG_4628.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SnAkIz6kZfI/AAAAAAAAD68/Fa9WhvntIYE/s400/IMG_4628.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363826889991677426" border="0"></a><br /><br />[To be continued]chemcookithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17675842171888658314noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21308831.post-79452388352773198072009-07-05T00:45:00.012-07:002009-07-05T02:52:36.678-07:00Quest for Katsuobushi[This is a guest posting by Matt.]<br /><br />First, thanks Marta for granting me this indulgence to hold forth on an obsession.<br /><br />Anyone who has had any Japanese food has tasted the flavor imparted by katsuobushi, but I first became aware of the ingredient itself through its description in Harold McGee's <i>On Food and Cooking</i>: "The most remarkable preserved fish is katsuobushi, a cornerstone of Japanese cooking, which dates from around 1700 and is made most often from one fish, the skip jack tuna [bonito]." Katsuobushi is produced through a three to five month process involving boiling, weeks of hot-smoking, and finally a series of fermentations. "At the end, the meat has turned light brown and dense; when struck it's said to sound like a resonant piece of wood," McGee continues. "Why go to all this trouble? Because it accumulates a spectrum of flavor molecules whose breadth is approached only in the finest cured meats and cheeses."<br /><br />Since I read this years ago I've kept my eye out for whole katsuobushi. Of course, in powdered form, it is a basic ingredient in Hon-Dashi, used to make instant soup stock, or dashi. It's also not hard to find in flakes; these are the shavings of katsuobushi that are an intermediate in making dashi.<br /><br />Indian food tastes better when the spices are ground fresh, because the aromas dissipate rapidly after grinding. Same goes for coffee. Might the same be true of katsuobushi? What if the pre-flaked katsuobushi has but a shadow of its full flavor? I wanted to find the whole stuff.<br /><br />Once I set to the task in earnest, it was surprisingly difficult. Locally, the best bet was Berkeley's <a href="http://www.yelp.com/biz/tokyo-fish-market-berkeley-2">Tokyo Fish Market</a>. Plenty of instant dashi and bonito flakes, but a clerk there told me that whole katsuobushi is almost impossible to find in the United States. Without much hope of success, I also inquired at <a href="http://www.japanwoodworker.com/">Japan Woodworker</a>. They sell a lot of Japanese planes, and the Japanese use a special plane to making the katsuobushi shavings. Their kitchen section has expanded a lot in recent years, so I thought this would be a nice area of intersection between woodworking and cooking. (Indeed, I planned to dust off my underutilized planes when it came time to make my own shavings.) Unfortunately, they didn't carry katsuobushi or the plane for it. However, I did have an interesting talk with one of the owners, who had inherited a kastuobushi plane from his father, together with a now 60-year-old piece of katsuobushi.<br /><br />To the internets! As expected, the web has a lot of good information about katsuobushi. I recommend <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Katsuobushi">wikipedia</a> and <a href="http://testglobal.tokyofoundation.org/series/japanese-traditional-foods/vol.-15-dried-bonito">this article</a> from the Tokyo Foundation. The latter Japanese slow food site has a number of other interesting articles as well. However, when it came to finding whole katsuobushi for sale, the English-speaking internet had nothing. We did find instructions in Japanese about <a href="http://www.ajiwai.com/otoko/make/katuobusi.htm">how to make</a> katsuobushi. According to google translate, one step is this:<br /><br />これで裸節のできあがりです。 I finished the section in the nude.<br /><br />We like our food to be natural, but maybe not that natural.<br /><br />Googling did yield a promising site written entirely in Japanese, <a href="http://www.e-dashi.com/katuo/katuobusi-tukurikata.html">e-dashi</a>. After weeks of waiting, hoping I guess that katsuo would fall from the sky, we decided to make an order in a language we couldn't understand. The strategy was simple: use google translate and try to divine the original meaning. Do we really want to order "sections of this blight," we asked ourselves? Yes! Confirm buttons were a bit tricky. For that you have to paste the html source (Control-U) into google translate and look for the form fields.<br /><br />Once the order process was completed, we realized that we had never typed in a credit card number. That happened only after several emails. The first was an auto-reply. The second said the shipping charges were being calculated. The third gave a shipping amount and, according to google translate, required me to confirm. At this point, I gave my sheepish reply, saying I didn't know Japanese, and then writing it in English. Fortunately the person on the other end, Hiromi Nagase, was extremely nice and forgiving, and went to the trouble of writing a reply in English. Hiromi was not at all confident in her English writing, but as someone who has had to edit papers from mechanical engineers, I've seen much worse. In fact, I shouldn't be using "worse", because everything was perfectly clear. Domo arigato gozaimasu, Hiromi-san!<br /><br />The package came within a week. There may have been a slower, cheaper shipping option, but we're about to go to Japan, so it had to come fast. Why not wait and get it in Japan? Because evidently it's hard to find even there: Our Japanese friend Keisuke had never seen katsuobushi in the flesh.<br /><br />Anyway, here it is. As you unwrap it, you are hit by a burst of smoky aroma. If you knock on it, it really does sound like a piece of wood.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2qoz4H2cLB6M_zbFnmNs5Y55sZpENBbVd94kX77TpQ7ag2enGD5cb8M-t7zzYhckCAwn3QvD4J1yosuw0RWniRDuYhzHyOpLStS5f54xqp9oovH4UFlYKv2oghQNnf55ORpM2/s1600-h/katsuo1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2qoz4H2cLB6M_zbFnmNs5Y55sZpENBbVd94kX77TpQ7ag2enGD5cb8M-t7zzYhckCAwn3QvD4J1yosuw0RWniRDuYhzHyOpLStS5f54xqp9oovH4UFlYKv2oghQNnf55ORpM2/s400/katsuo1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5354883532088739170" border="0" /></a><br />Here is my British hand plane confusedly making shavings from it. If you are able to get katsuobushi, but don't have or want to invest in a hand plane, you could use a Microplane cheese grater. After all, Microplanes were sold first to woodworkers before chefs discovered they make grate greaters. The shavings would be much finer than those shown here, but they'd probably make good soup. Treat them like a fine grind of coffee, and don't let them steep quite as long.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAm6HIgU785W0NQNkY_xEWaEcfdhTxQT8Xhitl4EJH3vDL8aPIUhH-EFwS7GTC5pW8hsXpaHw9re4pb_x5jfTWCEPW0LsC9enDXM5r2MYqGcbNMf_hjnWwCdWF6GWSRpfnPF-h/s1600-h/katsuo2.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAm6HIgU785W0NQNkY_xEWaEcfdhTxQT8Xhitl4EJH3vDL8aPIUhH-EFwS7GTC5pW8hsXpaHw9re4pb_x5jfTWCEPW0LsC9enDXM5r2MYqGcbNMf_hjnWwCdWF6GWSRpfnPF-h/s400/katsuo2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5354883535880725602" border="0" /></a><br />Honestly I don't understand why this step is enough to stop people from making dashi from whole katsuobushi. It doesn't take long at all, and what's left over is easier to manage in this compact form.<br /><br />Now for suppo: First step is to add kombu, which is dried kelp. Bring to a boil, then remove the kelp.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhocp2gOzxOJdYDChzIOTfadZYaW6MwDj_x8lZJ7YUw4vVyeZK4rltyN93TzGPVygewgLkJf1LJBv8ghCiELeEq_RLTqSNaK3pG5xBhVlNnJzjOG9rSCmTFoA-9TcDCDsXQabv7/s1600-h/konbu.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 343px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhocp2gOzxOJdYDChzIOTfadZYaW6MwDj_x8lZJ7YUw4vVyeZK4rltyN93TzGPVygewgLkJf1LJBv8ghCiELeEq_RLTqSNaK3pG5xBhVlNnJzjOG9rSCmTFoA-9TcDCDsXQabv7/s400/konbu.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5354883534464789218" border="0" /></a><br />Then add the katsuobushi shavings<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiiyA9rsdSvTvqEQFVR5-Tn2I33DCuaSl16G7E7yDvm36MxpHiLALF7QxcSGQxuY5scrLWf3weMtzfWqQFfQ0PzT7cGd_f5MNYoaTjBCxESJKXOIPRT8kdAK_NFe3E3sWsEzOT/s1600-h/dashi.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 394px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiiyA9rsdSvTvqEQFVR5-Tn2I33DCuaSl16G7E7yDvm36MxpHiLALF7QxcSGQxuY5scrLWf3weMtzfWqQFfQ0PzT7cGd_f5MNYoaTjBCxESJKXOIPRT8kdAK_NFe3E3sWsEzOT/s400/dashi.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5354883540850697266" border="0" /></a><br />Return to a boil, and let it steep for a bit. This is vague here, because, despite dire warnings about oversteeping of the form "even master chefs worry that they may be boiling it too long" (instead of worrying, why don't they measure time and temperature, these master chefs?), it doesn't seem that sensitive to the specifics. Anyway, this seems like one of those things said only to deter people from doing things themselves.<br /><br />Strain. Add miso, or if you want to try the broth plain, salt and msg. Serve:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPvwI7wi3p1PgG_5gi600HaRYDGL42Wslx4ILLC0ZdMgMi2UkOynbpMB6hH_qi_0ViH4RYKNTeolPGrBjm9OEURT7Nd4QaLArm1GzF0QLT9a1nnMyegbJyerxhX6uVNS6g6Nmr/s1600-h/miso.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 225px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPvwI7wi3p1PgG_5gi600HaRYDGL42Wslx4ILLC0ZdMgMi2UkOynbpMB6hH_qi_0ViH4RYKNTeolPGrBjm9OEURT7Nd4QaLArm1GzF0QLT9a1nnMyegbJyerxhX6uVNS6g6Nmr/s400/miso.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5354883546523492258" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Ah yes, I almost forgot. How does it taste? There's a short answer and a long answer. The short answer is, Very good!<br /><br />The long answer: How often we forget to taste familiar foods. The ritual of eating becomes a reward separate from taste. But, if circumstances are right, one can be jarred out of this trance into awareness. How often does one taste soup, a comfort food, as carefully as one tastes wine? I certainly don't. But since the katsuobushi came at such trouble and with such anticipation, it demanded focus. And focus it received. The initial smoky aromas recalled for me the smell of camping as a child. That part was obvious. More subtle was a certain minerality, the smell of the sea, but not fishy, though that was there too. Here is a food with flavors from old trees, from deep water, and with earthy decay. Here is a food that had the attention of people practicing a time honored practice, and which was sold by nice people who believe in it. Better than the instant stuff? You bet.Matthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08801379298358735006noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21308831.post-56506739101079509382009-06-02T01:18:00.008-07:002009-06-02T02:09:44.804-07:00Fresh Produce of the Month - Roundup and AnnouncementMay is over, and the Fresh Produce of the Month roundup is here for you to enjoy. The chosen produce for May was... <font color=#ff0000>Rhubarb</font>!<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SfTqMZukZaI/AAAAAAAAD2g/e-DqCe3b8_0/s320/rhubarb.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 250px; " src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SfTqMZukZaI/AAAAAAAAD2g/e-DqCe3b8_0/s320/rhubarb.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a>Indeed, quite a few people told me about how many rhubarb plants they had in their garden, so I'm glad it turned out to be a good choice.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9-Q4H8DcOdnaRu6X6ot-J0X-Oju9eIucDv1Bc1irdrIFGkvsl3mKu6BooX1UJR8nezq0dl8Uy9O0_IrsE5Q2kM0KOA5om5Mfeyc_Q6RsFIC2GCttQ3Qan3A0_GVTUJpjuQ6wq/s400/0529Tart5.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; " src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9-Q4H8DcOdnaRu6X6ot-J0X-Oju9eIucDv1Bc1irdrIFGkvsl3mKu6BooX1UJR8nezq0dl8Uy9O0_IrsE5Q2kM0KOA5om5Mfeyc_Q6RsFIC2GCttQ3Qan3A0_GVTUJpjuQ6wq/s400/0529Tart5.JPG" border="0" alt="" /></a>One of these lucky people having an abundance of rhubarb was Ferdzy, from <a href="http://seasonalontariofood.blogspot.com/">Seasonal Ontario Food</a>. Ferdzy had 15 rhubarb plants in her garden, and sent me two recipes for this month event! Thank you so much, Ferdzy. One of them was this wonderful looking <a href="http://seasonalontariofood.blogspot.com/2009/05/coconut-macaroon-tart-with-tart-fruit.html">'Coconut macaroon tart with tart fruit'</a>. This cake can be made with different tart fruits, or with rhubarb, thus showing a not well known but I'm sure really good combination of this produce and coconut.<br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJUxIHhu0IcW89n_gnEXN3JCzQJyazHAWCkw8naOtZcQth9uViwgCwAcfsPz-dFVCND5-xA7jqEyg9w36Ait-Mazm_YxUlH08sb7M3mdiLpvCZV8RVvFhs81_uXbU_kwOdbu2e/s400/0523Rhubarb6.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJUxIHhu0IcW89n_gnEXN3JCzQJyazHAWCkw8naOtZcQth9uViwgCwAcfsPz-dFVCND5-xA7jqEyg9w36Ait-Mazm_YxUlH08sb7M3mdiLpvCZV8RVvFhs81_uXbU_kwOdbu2e/s400/0523Rhubarb6.JPG" border="0" alt="" /></a>The other recipe from Ferdzy is<a href="http://seasonalontariofood.blogspot.com/2009/05/sherry-stewed-rhubarb.html"> 'Sherry stewed rhubarb'</a>, a simple and delicious stew made with a special, small type of rhubarb stalk, less tart than the big stalks. <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiA7mTMvvvWRA9trvLRLomYYNgSOKYuXcUCNegnH1tyBvW3TFMlL0aU9TmiqvRkAoFh3iW6axah0O7SXQyne1oANVY10R7ynIO2z77NGTAAto6DdYcTItUt2JiCfs_SvCpGIe1l3w/s320/016.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; " src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiA7mTMvvvWRA9trvLRLomYYNgSOKYuXcUCNegnH1tyBvW3TFMlL0aU9TmiqvRkAoFh3iW6axah0O7SXQyne1oANVY10R7ynIO2z77NGTAAto6DdYcTItUt2JiCfs_SvCpGIe1l3w/s320/016.JPG" border="0" alt="" /></a>Maria from <a href="http://mariateresaskitchen.blogspot.com">Seasonal Desserts</a> sent an amazing variation that she invented on the theme of <a href="http://mariateresaskitchen.blogspot.com/2009/05/sbrisolana-di-rabarbaro-rhubarb-crumbly.html">'Sbrisolona'</a>, a traditional Italian crumbly cake. She used rhubarb as a filling for this cake. Trust me, sbrisolona is something absolutely amazing, that everyone should taste once in their life. This rhubarb variation seems like a wonderful idea, and I have this recipe bookmarked for the near future (before the rhubarb season ends. :) ).<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfpW-hzJqHSRb6a4O1wlZ5nLDGIYpmwlj6DKCn88OKwg58sLysbH47y65NygV41ZPo_WdkvLq4UUCGmEx7DbnwU8ulJskf2tcy824EYtMoGj1Wi6CRKvz274Qe4WMFTZD12gW1Kg/s400/Rhubarb+soup+full2.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; " src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfpW-hzJqHSRb6a4O1wlZ5nLDGIYpmwlj6DKCn88OKwg58sLysbH47y65NygV41ZPo_WdkvLq4UUCGmEx7DbnwU8ulJskf2tcy824EYtMoGj1Wi6CRKvz274Qe4WMFTZD12gW1Kg/s400/Rhubarb+soup+full2.JPG" border="0" alt="" /></a>Happy Cook from <a href="http://mykitchentreasures.blogspot.com">My Kitchen Treasures </a>gave us a recipe for <a href="http://mykitchentreasures.blogspot.com/2009/05/rhubarb-soup-with-strawberry-ice-cream.html">'Rhubarb soup with strawberry ice cream'</a>. It's a soup made with a rhubarb base, and the addition of fresh strawberry and strawberry ice cream. It sounds really good! Thanks, Happy Cook :)<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://briciole.typepad.com/.a/6a00d835508b1869e2011570ad931f970b-pi"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; " src="http://briciole.typepad.com/.a/6a00d835508b1869e2011570ad931f970b-pi" border="0" alt="" /></a>Simona from <a href="http://briciole.typepad.com/">Briciole</a> had an amazing idea and made a <a href="http://briciole.typepad.com/blog/2009/05/gelato-alla-vaniglia-variegato-al-rabarbaro.html">'Rhubarb marbled vanilla ice cream'.</a> Can you imagine? The goodness of vanilla ice cream (and in Simona's version, it's made with real vanilla beans, a delight that's hard to imagine if you never tried it), mixed with the interesting flavor of rhubarb. I'd love to try this!<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/ShCUg3YWvwI/AAAAAAAAD3U/hAttFWCi7jU/s400/IMG_3998.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; " src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/ShCUg3YWvwI/AAAAAAAAD3U/hAttFWCi7jU/s400/IMG_3998.JPG" border="0" alt="" /></a>Finally, my (or, ehm, Matt's) entry for the event was this <a href="http://italianintheus.blogspot.com/2009/05/torta-di-fragole-e-rabarbaro.html">'Strawberry-rhubarb pie'</a>, with homemade crust with lard! Really good, said by someone who thought didn't like pie crusts.. The filling is really delicious. Strawberry and rhubarb are usually paired for a reason!<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />So, we've arrived at the end of the roundup for this month. Thanks to everybody who took part and I hope you all will enjoy reading and maybe trying some of these recipes! For next edition, I have decided that the Fresh Produce of the Month will be dedicated to... <font color=#ff0000>peas</font>!<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SiTpplbOi7I/AAAAAAAAD4M/qo-0aIqFh_0/s1600-h/IMG_4093.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SiTpplbOi7I/AAAAAAAAD4M/qo-0aIqFh_0/s320/IMG_4093.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5342651958598470578" /></a>In this picture you see two types of peas: sugar peas and snap peas. Every kind of pea is accepted, they are all delicious in my opinion! I'm very happy they are now in their full season, and they are going to stay in season throughout early summer.<br /><br />If you want to participate to this month's edition, publish a post on your blog with a recipe involving peas. Add a link to this announcement and mention that it's an entry for the Fresh Produce of the Month event. Feel free to place the logo on your post if you like it.<br />2. Send me an email with a link to your post, your blog homepage and your name at chemcookitATgmailDOTcom. Specify 'Fresh Produce of the Month: Peas' as subject. A photo is optional, though helpful.<br />3. If you don't have a blog just send me an email with your recipe and, if you have a picture of the food you made, that's great: I will add it to the roundup as well.<br /><br />The deadline for entry submission is June 30th, 2009. I will post the roundup soon after.<br /><br />Note: If you don't receive an answer to your email or a comment on your post within two days of sending me the email, please contact me again: sometimes email messages get lost in cyberspace.chemcookithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17675842171888658314noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21308831.post-62373818373795023782009-05-31T20:10:00.005-07:002009-05-31T21:12:39.954-07:00Grasso, strutto, segoA long mysterious title for this post... All these words relate to fat! As I mentioned in the previous post, we started being interested in lard some time ago. We got a first jar of 'manteca' in a Mexican store, which was the closest thing to lard we could find. We were both surprised it wasn't in the refrigerated section, and in fact it turned out that the box did not really just contain lard, but also a variety of hydrogenated fats, and most likely preservatives. Anyway, that was a good start, and we made really good tacos fried in lard, and pies such as the one I described in the previous post. Good stuff! <br /><br />However, shortly after these first experiments, we also bought a huge amount of pork meat, and proceeded to cut it and freeze it as usual. Some pieces of fat scraps were left out, and Matt decided that instead of throwing them away, he would try to render them and make lard. So, here are the first two words of the title: <font color=#0000ff>grasso</font> is fat, and <font color=#0000ff>strutto</font> is lard. He cut the fat into cubes and boiled them with a little water, till most of the fat came out. Then he removed the solid pieces of fat leftover, and refrigerated the liquid. The fat solidified and the water remained below. After another round of boiling and solidification, he siphoned the water away and was left with nice looking, very bright lard. Unfortunately I don't have a picture of this first lard attempt. Another strawberry-rhubarb pie came out with the homemade lard, and the result was really good.<br /><br />Excited by this success, we went to our favorite grocery store in the area: 99 Ranch, a Chinese grocery store in El Cerrito, where we get all our veggies and the best seafood in the area. Considering that they sell all sorts of meat (as you will read in a next post), we were sure we could buy pig fat there. However, at the store, the butcher, slightly embarrassed, told us that he didn't have any to sell us. Apparently the Mexicans in the area buy it all! Evidently, Mexicans know how to cook :). However, the butcher said, we could have some beef fat, instead. So, he just gave us completely for free 4 pounds of beef fat. Why couldn't we transform that into lard, we thought, going home. <br /><br />I read online and on the food bible 'McGhee' about the difference between beef and pork fat. It turns out that rendered pork fat is lard, whereas rendered beef fat is tallow: <font color=#0000ff>strutto</font>, in Italian, the first one, and<font color=#0000ff> sego </font>the second one. I didn't know the meaning of sego or tallow before this experience. It also turns out tallow <span style="font-style:italic;">is </span>used for cooking, however more for frying than for making pies. The reasons I found about this are contradictory: some people claim tallow has a stronger, beefy taste, than lard, whereas other people claim tallow doesn't taste like much, and therefore it just adds fat but no good flavor to pies. So, this was interesting to begin with: who was right? Matt started the rendering process right away. This time he tried to follow some more detailed recipes that we found online, such as <a href="http://homesicktexan.blogspot.com/2008/05/how-to-render-lard.html">this</a>, on a new blog I found I really like (<a href="http://homesicktexan.blogspot.com/2008/05/how-to-render-lard.html">Homesick Texan</a>). <br />He cut the beef fat into pieces and cooked them with water, similarly to what he did previously with pig fat:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SiNOvjTqpnI/AAAAAAAAD3s/TQeOdJEap_s/s1600-h/IMG_4025.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SiNOvjTqpnI/AAAAAAAAD3s/TQeOdJEap_s/s400/IMG_4025.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5342200161830086258" /></a>However, this time the cooking went on much longer, with the goal of having all the pieces of fat sinking at the bottom of the liquid, and all the water evaporating. This way, a lot more fat is extracted from the meat, and the remaining pieces are cracklings, supposedly quite good to eat. The problem of this longer process was that the initially innocent looking pieces of fat were transformed into a bomb on our stove. They started exploding, making really loud noises, and most dangerously, jumping out of the pot and going everywhere in the kitchen! Here you can see them in this angry stage:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SiNOv_hhkGI/AAAAAAAAD30/uAFkj7CCB3Q/s1600-h/IMG_4034.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SiNOv_hhkGI/AAAAAAAAD30/uAFkj7CCB3Q/s400/IMG_4034.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5342200169404403810" /></a>Matt was supposed to keep stirring them, which caused him a few burns before at some point he decided he had had enough. The smell was terrible, and even though he tried to clean up, we still had pieces of fat on the floor the day after. However, in the end, he did obtain a remarkably large amount of tallow, of which you can see a tablespoon here:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SiNSUsXAmqI/AAAAAAAAD38/0cbmNB21hPk/s1600-h/IMG_4069.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SiNSUsXAmqI/AAAAAAAAD38/0cbmNB21hPk/s400/IMG_4069.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5342204098450070178" /></a>It's not as white as lard. Also, Matt noticed that tallow solidified much faster than lard. In fact, as we learned later, tallow has a much higher percentage of saturated fats than lard. Therefore, while lard is actually better than butter in terms of healthy fat content, tallow isn't. Finally, Matt did try to make a pie crust with it the day after, but the smell was really beefy! So, it could be ok for a savory pie, but our experience so far seems to confirm the stronger-than-lard- smell theory. It may be related to how one renders it -- most likely, the longer you cook it, the more beefy the taste will be. <br /><br />Anyway, you won't believe me, but it was a fun experience. Possibly, not to be repeated any time soon, but worth a shot. Especially with pig fat, instead of beef fat, if you want to have the best pie crusts ever, and liberate yourself from the low-fat trend of our society!chemcookithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17675842171888658314noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21308831.post-46948661804932738452009-05-17T15:08:00.008-07:002009-05-18T01:15:40.939-07:00Torta di fragole e rabarbaroPies have never been my favorite dessert, mainly because I never really liked the crust. In fact, I know quite a few Americans who eat the filling and not the crust.. which of course, makes you wonder why they don't just bake the filling in a pan (and yes, I know somebody wisely does that :) ). However, Matt thought that the reason I never liked pie crusts is that I never had a really good one. Traditionally, pies crusts are made with lard, and the flavor that is given by lard is impossible to imitate with butter or shortening. So, we had the perfect reason to try making a good lard-crust pie: prepare a strawberry-rhubarb pie using the freshest ingredients in season, and use the recipe for the <a href="http://italianintheus.blogspot.com/2009/04/fresh-produce-of-month-fennel-roundup.html">Fresh Produce of the Month</a> event centered on <font color=#ff0000>rhubarb</font>. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SfTqMZukZaI/AAAAAAAAD2g/e-DqCe3b8_0/s320/rhubarb.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SfTqMZukZaI/AAAAAAAAD2g/e-DqCe3b8_0/s320/rhubarb.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a>Recently we experimented a few times with lard, mostly to fry our homemade tacos in it. When I told people I had a few things cooked with lard, I got two possible reactions: disgust, or appreciation and nostalgic memories from childhood. My mom's reaction was the latter, and she told me about these fantastic 'bugie' that her grandma used to make for Carnival, by frying the dough in lard instead of oil, and how much more airy and fluffy they were compared to anything you can find nowadays. So, this will be the subject of another post, when I will try to repeat the <a href="http://italianintheus.blogspot.com/2006/02/lavventura-delle-bugie.html">bugie </a>that I made some years ago, using lard instead of oil for frying. <br /><br />Here comes the moment for the recipe of..<br /><br /> <font color=#ff0000>La vera torta di fragole e rabarbaro</font>/ <font color=#0000ff>The real strawberry-rhubarb pie</font><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/ShCUg3YWvwI/AAAAAAAAD3U/hAttFWCi7jU/s1600-h/IMG_3998.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/ShCUg3YWvwI/AAAAAAAAD3U/hAttFWCi7jU/s400/IMG_3998.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5336928850776866562" /></a>As you can easily imagine, the most important part to get right for this authentic pie is the crust. To make this small cuty pie, you have to use 1 cup flour and 1/3 cup of lard, no less than that! The secret is in cutting the lard into the flour: use two knives and literally cut the lard while mixing it into the flour. Add also a pinch of salt. Once it's all in, add ~1 tbsp water, just enough to make it stick together: the smaller the better. Also, work the dough with your hands as little as possible, just to make a ball with the dough in the end. Divide the dough in two parts, one a little larger than the other, and roll down in two thin disks. The larger disk will be the base of the pie. Place that in your pan. Add the filling, prepared by simply cutting 2 stalks of rhubarb, 8 large strawberries, and letting them sit in a bowl with a little bit of lemon juice and sugar to taste. <br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/ShCZhD8Wz0I/AAAAAAAAD3k/L0Nh1iMGmcY/s1600-h/IMG_3996.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/ShCZhD8Wz0I/AAAAAAAAD3k/L0Nh1iMGmcY/s400/IMG_3996.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5336934351707230018" /></a>Cover with the second disk of dough, and punch holes through it. A "Pi" decoration is optional, but particularly fashionable. :) Bake at 450F for ~45 minutes. Let it cool down before cutting the slices.. And enjoy!<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/ShCUhL20VDI/AAAAAAAAD3c/idZgtzq5Tqc/s1600-h/IMG_4002.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/ShCUhL20VDI/AAAAAAAAD3c/idZgtzq5Tqc/s400/IMG_4002.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5336928856273343538" /></a>The lard does give a different taste to the dough. It took me two slices before I got used to it, but once you have trained your taste buds not to expect the flavor of butter, it's very addictive :)<br /><br />If you still haven't done so, please send me your recipes centered on rhubarb for this month's <a href="http://italianintheus.blogspot.com/2009/04/fresh-produce-of-month-fennel-roundup.html">Fresh Produce of The Month</a> event! The deadline is May 29th.chemcookithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17675842171888658314noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21308831.post-80675621649534194882009-05-03T21:42:00.008-07:002009-05-04T11:45:19.498-07:00Torta di fragole e mandorleFor the first time in a while, I'll be able to participate to a blog event that's not the one that I started myself (which I would feel too bad not to take part to :) ). This is an indication of the fact that I still don't feel too pressed to start looking for funding for my new position at McGill, even though I've been told by a few people that I should start spending all my waking time doing that. So, since I'm sure shortly I'll be completely overwhelmed again, I want to take advantage of this blessed period and do something not completely work-related all weekends!<br /><br />Therefore, my dear readers, here is my entry for Meeta's <a href="http://whatsforlunchhoney.blogspot.com/2009/04/monthly-mingle-32-spring-cakes.html">Monthly Mingle event</a>, this month centered on <font color=#ff0000>spring cakes</font>. <br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_NqzSkDrcgRs/Se4S5MH1f2I/AAAAAAAAFIM/hgFfbEh1Ib4/MMSpringCakes6.png?imgmax=800"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 180px; " src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_NqzSkDrcgRs/Se4S5MH1f2I/AAAAAAAAFIM/hgFfbEh1Ib4/MMSpringCakes6.png?imgmax=800" border="0" alt="" /></a>I made this cake specifically thinking about her, who requested a spongy, fruity cake for this month. And, I love both strawberries and almond, so.. here it is:<br /><br /><font color=#ff0000>Torta di fragole e mandorle</font> / <font color=#0000ff>Strawberry-almond cake</font><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg82NHj5_q4DV6sNbELwe-ua_OgR0-AZOGSOJkPZC38o4wv-VbEPgPtoAx8I_Q-o62pUk1EvdZrPQOD9jG40q3YN27VqooIHH5p2YIyKETHURWAZMpAjU58eYtdK1KpP1Tce9XzvQ/s1600-h/IMG_3971.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 292px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg82NHj5_q4DV6sNbELwe-ua_OgR0-AZOGSOJkPZC38o4wv-VbEPgPtoAx8I_Q-o62pUk1EvdZrPQOD9jG40q3YN27VqooIHH5p2YIyKETHURWAZMpAjU58eYtdK1KpP1Tce9XzvQ/s400/IMG_3971.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5331826389870040530" /></a>The recipe for this cake is almost entirely the same as you can find on the beautiful blog <a href="http://fiordizucca.blogspot.com/2008/05/torta-alle-fragole-e-cannella.html">'Fior di zucca'</a>. This blog is mostly in Italian, but Fior translated almost all the recipes also in English. It's beautiful, and I invite everybody to check it out. The main difference between my version and Fior's is that she uses also cinnamon, whereas I didn't (I'm not too much of a fan of it), and hers is sweeter than mine (this was due to the fact that I completely ran out of sugar when I made the cake :) -- however, I thought the cake turned out really fine as for sweetness).<br /><br />So, to make my slight modified version of the cake, grind 1 cup of almonds, and add to it 1 cup of flour, 1 tsp baking powder, 2/3 cup butter, 1/2 cup sugar, and 2 eggs. Mix all in a food processor. Spread half of the mixture on an 8" baking pan. Don't worry if the mixture is very dense and quite hard to spread. It will work well. Wash and cut in halves or quarts ~1 lb strawberries, and place on top of the batter in the pan. Then cover with the rest of the batter, trying not to leave uncovered strawberries. Bake for ~40 minutes at 350 F, until golden, and let cool down. Decorate with powdered sugar and strawberries.<br />This cake is very nice. Don't overcook it (40 minutes are enough, imo), so that it stays moist. This is the perfect season for strawberries, so if you want a strawberry cake that's a bit unusual, with almonds and a nice layering, try this one!chemcookithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17675842171888658314noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21308831.post-12591275143161314192009-04-26T15:52:00.006-07:002009-04-26T16:19:12.713-07:00Fresh Produce of the Month: Fennel -- RoundupHello everyone! Quite an easy roundup this time: only two recipes :) Oh well, I guess fennel is not in season very much anywhere, although I did see it listed as one of the in-season ingredients on a few websites. Anyway, here are links to..<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://briciole.typepad.com/.a/6a00d835508b1869e201156f33a60c970c-pi"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px;" src="http://briciole.typepad.com/.a/6a00d835508b1869e201156f33a60c970c-pi" border="0" alt="" /></a>Simona's really nice <a href="http://briciole.typepad.com/blog/2009/04/finocchio.html">'Fennel and leek soup with fennel greens'</a>: as she said, "a deeply flavored soup that will enchant your palate". And she grated her own homemade cheese on top!<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SegghE7jaJI/AAAAAAAAD2Y/zWMwedagtBU/s400/IMG_3953.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; " src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SegghE7jaJI/AAAAAAAAD2Y/zWMwedagtBU/s400/IMG_3953.JPG" border="0" alt="" /></a>And my <a href="http://italianintheus.blogspot.com/2009/04/agnello-al-finocchio.html">'Fennel and lamb curry'</a>, a pairing that I found out to be common in Italian cuisine and never tried before. I added some spices to make it more curry-like, et..voila' :) A really delicious meal was ready.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />For the next event, I have actually looked quite extensively on at least the US peak season map that you can find at <a href="http://www.epicurious.com/articlesguides/seasonalcooking/farmtotable/seasonalingredientmap">epicurious.com</a>.. and have chosen.. <font color=#ff0000>rhubarb</font>! I actually really would have wanted to have strawberries, but we already had a FPOM dedicated to this fruit, so I thought about its less known companion of the famous strawberry-rhubarb pie. There is a reason if the two are paired: they are both in season at a similar time!<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SfTqMZukZaI/AAAAAAAAD2g/e-DqCe3b8_0/s1600-h/rhubarb.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SfTqMZukZaI/AAAAAAAAD2g/e-DqCe3b8_0/s320/rhubarb.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5329141757871678882" /></a>(Image from <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Rheum_rhabarbarum.2006-04-27.uellue.jpg">wikimedia.com</a>)<br /><br />So I hope this time many will join in the fun, and will follow these simple rules:<br /><br />1. Publish a post on your blog with a recipe involving rhubarb. Add a link to this announcement and mention that it's an entry for the Fresh Produce of the Month event. Feel free to place the logo on your post.<br />2. Send me an email with a link to your post, your blog homepage and your name at chemcookitATgmailDOTcom. Specify 'Fresh Produce of the Month: Rhubarb' as subject. A photo is optional, though helpful.<br />3. If you don't have a blog just send me an email with your recipe and, if you have a picture of the food you made, that's great: I will add it to the roundup as well.<br /><br />The deadline for entry submission is May 29th, 2009. I will post the roundup soon after.<br /><br />Note: If you don't receive an answer to your email or a comment on your post within two days of sending me the email, please contact me again: sometimes email messages get lost in cyberspace.chemcookithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17675842171888658314noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21308831.post-84880743546841097332009-04-16T23:18:00.005-07:002009-04-16T23:40:42.816-07:00Agnello al finocchioHrm.... Once again, I'm late on posting the recipe for my own blog event.... Probably not too bad, though: so far I didn't receive any submissions! I guess fennel is not in season in many parts of the world. So, this is a good occasion to send out a reminder to anybody who could be interested in participating.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrwSzY8hby94K7-6EEeU1XTEH10-TV6Hk8SHL1_31jITrenYLGttL-Swq0FhoQRhyphenhyphenRa5jCa8MEj7fpuJ56kvIdK4NTj6lKWxxZjAkW_QnJg9wh4DXeMWtNF-u7TIvuOEzQIXbk1Q/s320/fennel.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 205px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrwSzY8hby94K7-6EEeU1XTEH10-TV6Hk8SHL1_31jITrenYLGttL-Swq0FhoQRhyphenhyphenRa5jCa8MEj7fpuJ56kvIdK4NTj6lKWxxZjAkW_QnJg9wh4DXeMWtNF-u7TIvuOEzQIXbk1Q/s320/fennel.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a>You can find the rules for submission <a href="http://italianintheus.blogspot.com/2009/03/fresh-produce-of-month.html">here</a>. And, the deadline is now officially extended till <font color=#ff0000>April 25</font>!<br /><br />So here is the fennel-centered dish that I made tonight. I thought about the pairing of lamb and fennel after reading a few online recipes on <a href="http://www.cooker.net/">cooker.net</a>, and I decided to add some spices to the dish to make it curry-like. It turned out quite good. I wonder if there are any real Indian curries using fennel as a vegetable.<br /><br /><font color=#ff0000>Curry di agnello e finocchio</font> / <font color=#0000ff>Fennel and lamb curry</font><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SegghE7jaJI/AAAAAAAAD2Y/zWMwedagtBU/s1600-h/IMG_3953.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SegghE7jaJI/AAAAAAAAD2Y/zWMwedagtBU/s400/IMG_3953.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5325542311996909714" /></a><font color=#0000ff>Ingredients</font><br />One onion<br />Three cloves of garlic<br />Two fennels<br />One pound lamb, cubed<br />Half a pound small tomatoes (romanitas)<br />1 tsp cumin seeds<br />1 tsp mustard seeds<br />1/2 tsp fennel seeds<br />1/2 tsp fenugreek seeds<br />1/2 tsp garam masala powder<br />4 dried spicy chili peppers, cut into pieces<br />Salt<br />Pepper<br /><br />Prepare the ingredients: finely mince the onion, the garlic, cut the white bulb of the fennels in thin slices, separate and finely cut the stems and the leaves, and cut the tomatoes in quarters or halves depending on the size. Dry roast the spices, except for the garam masala powder. Grind them.<br />Sautee the onion in abundant olive oil and add the ground spices. Add the pieces of lamb and brown, about 7 minutes. Remove the meat from the pan, and add the fennel slices and some salt. Sautee the slices for about 7 minutes, stirring frequently to coat with the oil, onion and spice mixture. Remove from the pan and add the rest of the pieces of the fennel and the tomatoes. Cook for 3 minutes and place the meat back in the pan. Cook for 5 more minutes, add garam masala powder, and salt and pepper to taste. If your pan is large enough, stir in the fennel slices, otherwise assemble the dish by placing the fennel slices and the meat, fennel and tomatoes mixture directly in serving bowls, over some boiled basmati rice. <br /><br />If you try it, let me know what you think about it. I thought it was quite nice, even though I never had a curry containing fennel.chemcookithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17675842171888658314noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21308831.post-77221732973376506572009-04-05T21:04:00.017-07:002009-04-05T23:57:21.584-07:00Giro di viteFinally, the moment has come. I have officially decided what to do for at least the next few years of my life. As you know, my long absence from blogging was related to job hunting. At last, last Wednesday, I had to make up my mind, and decide among the many really good offers that I received. It was a hard choice, but in the end, the verdict is.. professor in Montreal! I still have trouble visualizing myself as a professor, but hopefully I will be good at it. I will start there in September, so I have a few more months to enjoy the beautiful Bay Area, with its wonderful weather and scenarios. <br /><br />Anyway, I want this post to be a small photographic summary of some of the wonderful places I visited during this interview period. In particular, I want to share some pictures from Australia, which I visited in February.<br /><br />First Australian stop: <font color=#ff0000>Adelaide</font><br /><br />Adelaide is a one million people city, somewhat spread out, with wonderful weather, beautiful hilly surroundings where most of the best Australian wine is produced, and great beaches just a few miles away. <br />Here you can see some of the nice hills of McLaren Vale..<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SdmEPf_hVVI/AAAAAAAADyg/Wqxm9YgjqHo/s1600-h/IMG_3461.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SdmEPf_hVVI/AAAAAAAADyg/Wqxm9YgjqHo/s400/IMG_3461.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5321429836535780690" /></a>And one of the wineries: this was a very small family-run winery, producing wonderful wine.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYrkhDjvghyEBMFAwy5nNJMFS7gEjQYiJZwSP4h22rFSEdRlZ3g9yXHTb1Y7odfyewjokFKKXafQyobj8H3vH-Hb41P2duJwX7tVAxpjTZQhZgHsu3qMxLhi-wNHa1HyNm67i2lA/s1600-h/IMG_3464.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYrkhDjvghyEBMFAwy5nNJMFS7gEjQYiJZwSP4h22rFSEdRlZ3g9yXHTb1Y7odfyewjokFKKXafQyobj8H3vH-Hb41P2duJwX7tVAxpjTZQhZgHsu3qMxLhi-wNHa1HyNm67i2lA/s400/IMG_3464.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5321429838762053650" /></a>Here are the impressively long beaches near Adelaide, easily reachable by public transportation.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9eD0xauYYrMe8MipFONjXb-iJFwUfgoHOUKhyg3o06jTMjMr__8w0hZg35XpfKuzDvtqXL_Cq6XEgjqrnIjGvAb0Yh1xcZUjk5_ZwKsd2D6Na-eg8WaByC5LBcgSa7PD6ZFvTqw/s1600-h/IMG_3481.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9eD0xauYYrMe8MipFONjXb-iJFwUfgoHOUKhyg3o06jTMjMr__8w0hZg35XpfKuzDvtqXL_Cq6XEgjqrnIjGvAb0Yh1xcZUjk5_ZwKsd2D6Na-eg8WaByC5LBcgSa7PD6ZFvTqw/s400/IMG_3481.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5321429842125365794" /></a>However, maybe what touched me the most in Adelaide were the people. Together with some of the professors of the department I was interviewing at, we went for a tour of the wineries, and then we had dinner altogether, cooking kangaroo meat! Yes, Australians do eat kangaroo meat, and I must admit it's delicious. Read the labels on these sausages if you don't believe me..<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SdmDd_mZrbI/AAAAAAAADyQ/vwL4jHOH4rI/s1600-h/IMG_3450.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SdmDd_mZrbI/AAAAAAAADyQ/vwL4jHOH4rI/s400/IMG_3450.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5321428986026896818" /></a>These are the 'roo' steaks we made: they taste similarly to beef, but they are amazingly tender.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SdmDeQHVBUI/AAAAAAAADyY/zByh-EeeiJw/s1600-h/IMG_3472.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SdmDeQHVBUI/AAAAAAAADyY/zByh-EeeiJw/s400/IMG_3472.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5321428990459970882" /></a>You can see why it was so hard for me to choose where to go. I think I left part of my heart in Adelaide, and maybe at some point of my life I will decide to go back there.<br /><br />Second Australian stop: <font color=#ff0000>Sydney</font><br /><br />Sydney is an amazingly beautiful city. Its charm is hard to pin down, maybe due to its many different facets. Matt and I stayed in Glebe, a very lively neighborhood, with lots of small restaurants. <br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjycH3H4bj1Yw_LTwiVlKcqPE3sIwIgEpGdCDjXqVYYiHY5ep0Z6IHUjnJQ3gLD6hgMzKfiHyBzIrKCfbQGtydW05lRx5Si1qyBoATFEYKccV-N8zceylNcJNwSSZmqbL_en_f4tg/s1600-h/IMG_3572.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjycH3H4bj1Yw_LTwiVlKcqPE3sIwIgEpGdCDjXqVYYiHY5ep0Z6IHUjnJQ3gLD6hgMzKfiHyBzIrKCfbQGtydW05lRx5Si1qyBoATFEYKccV-N8zceylNcJNwSSZmqbL_en_f4tg/s400/IMG_3572.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5321434860259742130" /></a>We loved it, it felt like being in a very genuine part of the city, instead of a typical touristic hub. Here is an example of a beautiful house in Glebe's neighborhood.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SdmI0ESwrFI/AAAAAAAADzA/5bZMQNudF28/s1600-h/IMG_3573.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SdmI0ESwrFI/AAAAAAAADzA/5bZMQNudF28/s400/IMG_3573.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5321434862801955922" /></a>Glebe is also very close to the fish market, which is the best fish market I ever saw in my life. Here you can see the port that faces it:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SdmI0i7QTcI/AAAAAAAADzI/UoCvadt66Zg/s1600-h/IMG_3487.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SdmI0i7QTcI/AAAAAAAADzI/UoCvadt66Zg/s400/IMG_3487.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5321434871024864706" /></a>And here is just one of the many stands selling wonderful fish of amazing varieties.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SdmI0yWXbRI/AAAAAAAADzQ/Z0feGNY08fU/s1600-h/IMG_3783.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SdmI0yWXbRI/AAAAAAAADzQ/Z0feGNY08fU/s400/IMG_3783.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5321434875165109522" /></a>The fish is delicious. We tasted some of it at a small place in Glebe, where we had grilled fish prepared on the spot and fried fish burger and chips for as little as five dollars each.<br /><br />Of course, the touristic spots have a reason for being so popular, too. The Opera house is an amazing building, that looks like something different from every angle. <br /><br />Is it a sailing boat?<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SdmNFpatNQI/AAAAAAAADzY/AAujMMmQAmo/s1600-h/IMG_3643.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SdmNFpatNQI/AAAAAAAADzY/AAujMMmQAmo/s400/IMG_3643.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5321439562871682306" /></a>Or a butterfly?<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SdmNF3B1MfI/AAAAAAAADzg/IHyOcqihag4/s1600-h/IMG_3523.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SdmNF3B1MfI/AAAAAAAADzg/IHyOcqihag4/s400/IMG_3523.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5321439566525444594" /></a>Or a solemn church?<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SdmNGEto7uI/AAAAAAAADzo/nspMukKYzXk/s1600-h/IMG_3525.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 260px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SdmNGEto7uI/AAAAAAAADzo/nspMukKYzXk/s400/IMG_3525.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5321439570198851298" /></a>Or two eyes looking at the horizon?<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiv4MJeGevauHZpePy5yr6jB_WuX6lvp5IYiIwNlB3qZ_PJOpnD3ffUsE4ZPKwVCkDw4xjS9gL5YANWtPLTlt7RKdb_JLBIIUSEDYVYYUUVuRcny7iQJ3h0Eyu_BZnMrvVU1GrIaQ/s1600-h/IMG_3745.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiv4MJeGevauHZpePy5yr6jB_WuX6lvp5IYiIwNlB3qZ_PJOpnD3ffUsE4ZPKwVCkDw4xjS9gL5YANWtPLTlt7RKdb_JLBIIUSEDYVYYUUVuRcny7iQJ3h0Eyu_BZnMrvVU1GrIaQ/s400/IMG_3745.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5321439576365013714" /></a>Or a huge bug?<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoIHY9XfqRP6ghEPeZixIRFZG9E0l9Ros2uqbfOPidsWWOAiRsENLl_y91U20oalP6_Ld7Myy95mtQpuIe0JuU6zQQnRB3zbWqHdaj6kGOU-lMen9bCDmTCYvhLapG2QzxF1eHOg/s1600-h/IMG_3770.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoIHY9XfqRP6ghEPeZixIRFZG9E0l9Ros2uqbfOPidsWWOAiRsENLl_y91U20oalP6_Ld7Myy95mtQpuIe0JuU6zQQnRB3zbWqHdaj6kGOU-lMen9bCDmTCYvhLapG2QzxF1eHOg/s400/IMG_3770.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5321439580882986706" /></a>You pick. :)<br /><br />Very close to the Opera House is the impressive Sydney bridge. Here you can see it in its beauty from the sea. I took a picture of it while going back from Manly, a beach easily reachable by ferry boat.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijGP0l61lPtF756RsmzFyn_0ipfxt5NadxzJ3cXKwg1hwhRioDB74kKJFYHUUeEHpSdV0W3Spdi170HRjC7TNR0XXUub_NZuMpgH9KBDGz8d8AbN8Vm9wC_9bOayOsoUl4zDhvkw/s1600-h/IMG_3666.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 144px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijGP0l61lPtF756RsmzFyn_0ipfxt5NadxzJ3cXKwg1hwhRioDB74kKJFYHUUeEHpSdV0W3Spdi170HRjC7TNR0XXUub_NZuMpgH9KBDGz8d8AbN8Vm9wC_9bOayOsoUl4zDhvkw/s400/IMG_3666.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5321440451792864322" /></a>People climb on the top of the bridge. Pretty impressive!<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SdmN5kkqTdI/AAAAAAAAD0I/xdkTVUUzcWE/s1600-h/IMG_3585.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SdmN5kkqTdI/AAAAAAAAD0I/xdkTVUUzcWE/s400/IMG_3585.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5321440454924455378" /></a><br />Another amazing thing of Sydney is its port. The largest boats in the world go through here, and we had the honor of seeing the Queen Victoria here. It's a <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/MS_Queen_Victoria">cruise ship </a>that holds about 3000 people. Its size is impossible to imagine without seeing it.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SdmQXJ7IYgI/AAAAAAAAD0Q/faD9BGa6x7k/s1600-h/STB_3610.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SdmQXJ7IYgI/AAAAAAAAD0Q/faD9BGa6x7k/s400/STB_3610.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5321443162190275074" /></a>The first view we had of it was from far away, and it was a surrealistic scenario, which I hope I captured with this panoramic collage:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SdmQXEbf9AI/AAAAAAAAD0Y/VzNkFZ937EY/s1600-h/Panorama+1.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 75px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SdmQXEbf9AI/AAAAAAAAD0Y/VzNkFZ937EY/s400/Panorama+1.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5321443160715424770" /></a>We were even more impressed when we realized that we were going to see it depart..<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SdmR7jhtP5I/AAAAAAAAD0g/kpcbD_94BMU/s1600-h/IMG_3630.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SdmR7jhtP5I/AAAAAAAAD0g/kpcbD_94BMU/s400/IMG_3630.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5321444887049879442" /></a>And we got to follow it for a little bit, while going to Manly on our ferry.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgik2VmGLXo3wSnGQIoKo6zczEWetc0RzRoNcQWVhFgUYaycvbYuWUiJDtBsDPCu9zoR7TsEckx5Iy9uotqCMOzlFQeW_HJ0d-LctL7Ym9DP_R81WLo-MYZslhU2zJm34czlMx9Fg/s1600-h/IMG_3659.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgik2VmGLXo3wSnGQIoKo6zczEWetc0RzRoNcQWVhFgUYaycvbYuWUiJDtBsDPCu9zoR7TsEckx5Iy9uotqCMOzlFQeW_HJ0d-LctL7Ym9DP_R81WLo-MYZslhU2zJm34czlMx9Fg/s400/IMG_3659.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5321444888893487618" /></a><br />Speaking of Manly, there wasn't too much of interest there, except for the fact that Matt succumbed to the Evil Temptation: he bought something at McDonald's!<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SdmYhgMZvbI/AAAAAAAAD1A/rxmovs3VpN0/s1600-h/IMG_3677.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SdmYhgMZvbI/AAAAAAAAD1A/rxmovs3VpN0/s400/IMG_3677.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5321452136060009906" /></a>I must admit, it was a pretty good deal: soft serve for AU$0.30. <br />One of the most beautiful parts of the Manly trip was the ride back to Sydney at sunset. A number of boats were elegantly sailing back, creating this beautiful show for us:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SdmSuuXtFqI/AAAAAAAAD04/ZsfOttGyCUk/s1600-h/IMG_3693.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 98px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SdmSuuXtFqI/AAAAAAAAD04/ZsfOttGyCUk/s400/IMG_3693.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5321445766134044322" /></a><br />And here is Sydney skyline at dusk:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SdmSg5ygYNI/AAAAAAAAD0w/kj0Ftl4iqS0/s1600-h/IMG_3734.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 198px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SdmSg5ygYNI/AAAAAAAAD0w/kj0Ftl4iqS0/s400/IMG_3734.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5321445528681078994" /></a><br />Another thing that we really liked of Sydney was how bike friendly it was. There were bike lanes on every bridge. This is the Anzac bridge, which we rode on a few times:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SdmaUR19geI/AAAAAAAAD1I/vYT11XFzpE8/s1600-h/IMG_3491.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SdmaUR19geI/AAAAAAAAD1I/vYT11XFzpE8/s400/IMG_3491.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5321454107892744674" /></a>We also took a very beautiful bike ride in the Sydney surroundings, but I have no pictures of it, unfortunately.<br />I do, however, have pictures of a beautiful and long walk that we took along the coast to get the famous Bondi beach. Here you can see the beach in the distance.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SdmgxbEwI1I/AAAAAAAAD1Q/lWanrk8op6I/s1600-h/IMG_3555.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SdmgxbEwI1I/AAAAAAAAD1Q/lWanrk8op6I/s400/IMG_3555.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5321461205656675154" /></a>But the most beautiful parts of the walk were the cliffs -- here you can see Matt right after jumping on one of them:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SdmgxwxQkOI/AAAAAAAAD1Y/8TGSJ4M3ETI/s1600-h/IMG_3558.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SdmgxwxQkOI/AAAAAAAAD1Y/8TGSJ4M3ETI/s400/IMG_3558.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5321461211480494306" /></a>And an amazing, immense cemetery facing the ocean.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SdmgyOW7lUI/AAAAAAAAD1g/4PdtcreDzMk/s1600-h/IMG_3565.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SdmgyOW7lUI/AAAAAAAAD1g/4PdtcreDzMk/s400/IMG_3565.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5321461219423130946" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SdmgyfFUwjI/AAAAAAAAD1o/Gwe_DIvv3-Q/s1600-h/IMG_3564.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SdmgyfFUwjI/AAAAAAAAD1o/Gwe_DIvv3-Q/s400/IMG_3564.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5321461223912686130" /></a><br />To finish this post, a few more fun things.<br /><br />Australia was great for their coffee. Adelaide in particular was so influenced by Italian immigrants that it was impossible to find brewed coffee: only espresso drinks were made. In Sydney, we had some delicious coffee and cappuccino at a place where they were roasting their own coffee:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SdmjR7J4l6I/AAAAAAAAD1w/q6B2jis9zWE/s1600-h/IMG_3512.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SdmjR7J4l6I/AAAAAAAAD1w/q6B2jis9zWE/s400/IMG_3512.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5321463963047204770" /></a>The cream was exactly like it's supposed to be: a cream, not a foam like they make all the time in the US!!<br /><br />Australia was also really funny for the large amount of knock-offs that we found: here is 'Norgen-Vaaz'..<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SdmjSE8DwKI/AAAAAAAAD14/2Y0i8P4hc-4/s1600-h/IMG_3511.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SdmjSE8DwKI/AAAAAAAAD14/2Y0i8P4hc-4/s400/IMG_3511.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5321463965673570466" /></a>and here is 'Gold Rock' ice cream shops! <br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SdmjSbHoe3I/AAAAAAAAD2A/kDFt6UelPmQ/s1600-h/IMG_3688.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SdmjSbHoe3I/AAAAAAAAD2A/kDFt6UelPmQ/s400/IMG_3688.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5321463971627694962" /></a>(for my non-American readers: these names strangely sound like 'Hagen-Daaz' and 'Cold stone', two very famous ice cream makers in the US).<br /><br />And finally, here are some pictures of us: me, dreaming about Australian skies <br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1z0wp7S69_EftIj4lnFFnFAGsU-y3lHlWPkcZKKVAvPs5IAiVTOLqDZHuX4WVzrTCEUsoIg6090_K88p6Yj5GMYqUqWmKyIzrkaCZ1IS5cBwEhQq2pa4WjB3nDQnp2u5eWo-7Ig/s1600-h/IMG_3605.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1z0wp7S69_EftIj4lnFFnFAGsU-y3lHlWPkcZKKVAvPs5IAiVTOLqDZHuX4WVzrTCEUsoIg6090_K88p6Yj5GMYqUqWmKyIzrkaCZ1IS5cBwEhQq2pa4WjB3nDQnp2u5eWo-7Ig/s400/IMG_3605.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5321463974805542482" /></a>And Matt, with his super cool kangaroo hat.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidAOM7mh0tjhO6y17dPFPa5EsbE-9DnkKmNVeoS-VFeOTb5zBX1ZpIRORG2OxxxRkIPbR4uLwWOCA_g6wZt_xQ3cOdFID__xGyoV_dOua93RTxXcRt2MNpg7vtXVxO5FSv1ZFI0w/s1600-h/IMG_3790.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidAOM7mh0tjhO6y17dPFPa5EsbE-9DnkKmNVeoS-VFeOTb5zBX1ZpIRORG2OxxxRkIPbR4uLwWOCA_g6wZt_xQ3cOdFID__xGyoV_dOua93RTxXcRt2MNpg7vtXVxO5FSv1ZFI0w/s400/IMG_3790.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5321463974048950562" /></a><br />This is it for now. I hope you enjoyed this Australian picture trip, and I will show something of the other interview places soon. :)chemcookithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17675842171888658314noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21308831.post-77872616485176491922009-03-15T12:54:00.004-07:002009-03-15T13:22:38.309-07:00Fresh Produce of the MonthHello everybody! March is already half gone, so we'd better hurry and publish the announcement for the new <font color=#ff0000>Fresh Produce of the Month</font> (FPOM) event! However, before doing so, let me direct you to <a href="http://briciole.typepad.com/blog/2009/03/riepilogo-della-frutta-fresca-del-mese-agrumi-eccetto-limoni-e-arance.html">Simona's blog</a>, where the wonderful roundup for the last FPOM is held. Last version was centered on <font color=#0000ff>'Citrus fruits -- all but lemon and oranges'</font>. Give a look at the delicious recipes she has collected.<br /><br />For this next event, we switch back to vegetables, and before it's too late, we'll catch the ending part of the season of.. <font color=#ff0000>fennel</font>! You can choose any part of the fennel you want to showcase in your recipe -- everything is valid, from the bulb to the leaves to the seed! It is a very common plant here, and it grows so well that you could almost consider it a weed. However, it is not that widely used as it would deserve to be. So, give it a try!<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrwSzY8hby94K7-6EEeU1XTEH10-TV6Hk8SHL1_31jITrenYLGttL-Swq0FhoQRhyphenhyphenRa5jCa8MEj7fpuJ56kvIdK4NTj6lKWxxZjAkW_QnJg9wh4DXeMWtNF-u7TIvuOEzQIXbk1Q/s1600-h/fennel.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 205px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrwSzY8hby94K7-6EEeU1XTEH10-TV6Hk8SHL1_31jITrenYLGttL-Swq0FhoQRhyphenhyphenRa5jCa8MEj7fpuJ56kvIdK4NTj6lKWxxZjAkW_QnJg9wh4DXeMWtNF-u7TIvuOEzQIXbk1Q/s320/fennel.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5313507601862512066" /></a><align="center">(picture of the fennel from <a href="http://www.seedfest.co.uk/seeds/herbs/fennel.jpg">seedfest.co.uk</a>)</align><br /><br />If you are inspired to participate (and I hope you are), here are the simple rules:<br /><br />1. Publish a post on your blog with a recipe involving fennel. Add a link to the announcement (either this one or the one on Simona's blog) and mention that it's an entry for the Fresh Produce of the Month event. Feel free to place the logo on your post.<br />2. Send me an email with a link to your post, your blog homepage and your name at chemcookitATgmailDOTcom. Specify 'Fresh Produce of the Month: Fennel' as subject. A photo is optional, though helpful.<br />3. If you don't have a blog just send me an email with your recipe and, if you have a picture of the food you made, that's great: I will add it to the roundup as well.<br /><br />The deadline for entry submission is April 15th, 2009. I will post the roundup soon after.<br /><br />Note: If you don't receive an answer to your email or a comment on your post within two days of sending me the email, please contact me again: sometimes email messages get lost in cyberspace.<span style="font-weight:bold;"></span>chemcookithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17675842171888658314noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21308831.post-57637432560644233552009-03-01T01:41:00.008-08:002009-03-14T12:41:11.955-07:00Qualche esempio tratto dalle mie cene del mese...The second and last post of the month that just ended is meant to show you some pictures of the food that Matt prepared for me in the past evenings. I take pictures of almost every dish he makes, with the idea of posting a recipe for it at some point, and I never have time to do it. So here is a collection of a few pictures, just to show you the terrible life I have to deal with.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SapcO4O76zI/AAAAAAAADw4/X2rlyBDAN1k/s1600-h/IMG_3345.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SapcO4O76zI/AAAAAAAADw4/X2rlyBDAN1k/s400/IMG_3345.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5308156521492507442" /></a>Thai green curry with eggplants and chicken. The green curry is made with a mix of galan-galan, shallots, green chillies, coriander seeds, shrimp paste, lemongrass, and fish oil.. a true delight. He made a lot of it, and froze some for later use. Good idea.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SapfiEc7tJI/AAAAAAAADxo/WeeG1lddhfw/s1600-h/prova2.PNG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SapfiEc7tJI/AAAAAAAADxo/WeeG1lddhfw/s400/prova2.PNG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5308160149724837010" /></a>This is ground pork cooked with a lot of Sichuan pepper corns, served with baby bok choi. Did you ever try <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sichuan_pepper">Sichuan pepper corns</a>? They don't taste anything like pepper: instead, they have a lemony flavor and they make your tongue numb if you chew on them. They are used in the '5-spice' Chinese mix. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SapcPagaj8I/AAAAAAAADxI/-pSKUhilK7g/s1600-h/IMG_3429.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SapcPagaj8I/AAAAAAAADxI/-pSKUhilK7g/s400/IMG_3429.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5308156530692624322" /></a>This was an Indian-style lamb curry, with tomatoes and red bell peppers, inspired by what we had the night before at an Indian restaurant. It came out amazingly well, not sure which dish would win in the comparison with the restaurant food.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SapcPigtqkI/AAAAAAAADxQ/qOkTMCwPCy0/s1600-h/IMG_3430.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SapcPigtqkI/AAAAAAAADxQ/qOkTMCwPCy0/s400/IMG_3430.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5308156532841359938" /></a>Last for this small series are the dumplings that he prepared one evening -- and for once I can say that I did at least help make the dough.. They look as good as they tasted. :)<br /><br />I have a lot more pictures, but I'm hoping to have time to post at least some of the recipes for the other dishes. If you're wondering if I have completely stopped cooking, the answer is for now, almost yes! I think at some point the Chef will allow me to make something.. we'll see :) -- for now, I just prepare presentations for job interviews. Not as tasty, but hopefully, they look good. :)chemcookithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17675842171888658314noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21308831.post-10503461958448938362009-03-01T00:56:00.006-08:002009-03-01T01:39:21.666-08:00"Limata" in stile vietnamitaHello dear readers! As predicted, my life is super hectic again, and still will be for a few more weeks. So, I'm going to have only two posts for this month (mmm -- I just realized it's past midnight, and it's already March! Oh well :)). So, the first post is my entry to the <a href="http://italianintheus.blogspot.com/2009/02/fresh-produce-of-month.html">'Fresh Produce of the Month'</a> event! This month the event is hosted again by my dear friend Simona at <a href="http://briciole.typepad.com">Briciole</a>.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SYqTRiKZE6I/AAAAAAAADwg/TtqWqOHI-no/s320/IMG_3343.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 190px; height: 140px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SYqTRiKZE6I/AAAAAAAADwg/TtqWqOHI-no/s320/IMG_3343.JPG" border="0" alt="" /></a>The theme was <font color=#ff0000>citrus fruits</font>, all but lemon and orange. This month we prepared two very good drinks involving citrus fruits, but unfortunately I have a nice picture of only one of them: a Vietnamese-style limeade!<br /><br /><font color=#ff0000>Limata in stile vietnamita</font> / <font color=#0000ff>Limeade Vietnamese style</font><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SapURYoXi2I/AAAAAAAADww/ZBfR6Nmlw_M/s1600-h/IMG_3442.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SapURYoXi2I/AAAAAAAADww/ZBfR6Nmlw_M/s400/IMG_3442.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5308147768455826274" /></a>This is a very easy drink to make, and it doesn't differ much from a regular limeade, except for the fact that it doesn't contain much sugar, and instead, it has some salt in it. It's very refreshing and a good thirst-quencher. However, I'm going to transcribe here Matt's version of the recipe, since he's the one who prepared it. <br /><br />Squeeze a fresh lime, add a pinch of sugar and a of scosh of salt, shake it for 20 seconds in a Martini shaker with some ice. Prepare a second Martini shaker by rubbing lime peel in its interior, and pour the limeade in it. Shake. Finally, pour some whiskey in a third Martini shaker, burn off the whiskey, and shake the limeade in it for 13 more seconds. Pour the drink in an appropriate glass, add a piece of cilantro, and serve.<br /><br />I hope you enjoyed this recipe. :) I am going to post the recipe for the second drink in the next few days. It's a lime-lemoncello flavored with habanero. A true delight, but I'm afraid this will be after the deadline for the FPOM.. we'll see if Simona will give me an allowance for it. :)chemcookithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17675842171888658314noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21308831.post-26024500237276409142009-02-04T23:13:00.003-08:002009-02-04T23:25:35.251-08:00Fresh Produce of the Month<font color=#ff0000>Simona</font> at <a href="http://briciole.typepad.com/">Briciole </a>just put up an absolutely wonderful roundup for the past <font color=#ff0000>'Fresh Produce of the Month'</font>, which was centered on <font color=#ff0000>cabbage</font>. Go <a href="http://briciole.typepad.com/blog/2009/02/riepilogo-della-verdura-fresca-del-mese-cavolo.html">look at it</a>, because it's really inspiring. Thank you so much, Simona, for doing such a great job!<br /><br />Simona said that she was willing to do two editions, so I took her word for it, and she's also hosting the next edition of the 'Fresh Produce of the Month', which will be centered on <font color=#ff0000>citrus fruits</font>-- everything is ok <font color=#ff0000>except for oranges and lemons</font>, which were already featured (<a href="http://italianintheus.blogspot.com/2008/05/fresh-produce-of-month-roundup-and-new.html">here </a>and <a href="http://italianintheus.blogspot.com/2007/06/fresh-produce-of-month-roundup.html">here</a>) for this same event some time ago.<br />The idea is to try to be as creative as possible, find the most interesting looking citrus fruits you can, and make something interesting with them!<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SYqTRiKZE6I/AAAAAAAADwg/TtqWqOHI-no/s1600-h/IMG_3343.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pq-7lDdiJBo/SYqTRiKZE6I/AAAAAAAADwg/TtqWqOHI-no/s320/IMG_3343.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299209840992261026" /></a>For the logo I took a picture of a Chinese pomelo, which we bought at a Chinese grocery store, as we were suggested by a Chinese person seeing our interest in it. To be really honest with you, this pomelo smelled better than it tasted, but it was definitely worth a try. :)<br /><br />If you are inspired to participate (and I hope you are), here are the simple rules:<br /><br />1. Publish a post on your blog with a recipe involving citrus fruits other than oranges or lemons. Add a link to the announcement (either this one or <a href="http://briciole.typepad.com/blog/2009/02/riepilogo-della-verdura-fresca-del-mese-cavolo.html">the one on Simona's blog</a>) and mention that it's an entry for the Fresh Produce of the Month event. Feel free to place the logo on your post.<br />2. Send Simona an email with a link to your post, your blog homepage and your name to me at simositeATmacDOTcom. Specify 'Fresh Produce of the Month: Citrus Fruit' as subject. A photo is optional, though helpful.<br />3. If you don't have a blog just send Simona an email with your recipe and, if you have a picture of the food you made, that's great: she will add it to the roundup as well.<br /><br />The deadline for entry submission is February 28th, 2009. Simona will post the roundup soon after.<br /><br />Note: If you don't receive an answer to your email or a comment on your post within two days of sending me the email, please contact us again: sometimes email messages get lost in cyberspace.chemcookithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17675842171888658314noreply@blogger.com3