**Announcement!**
I would love to host you at my final cooking class of the summer in August, so email me now to reserve a space!
This class will focus on Southern Italian foods and cultural foodways, which, as you'll see below, I learned a lot about while in Naples, Sorrento, and Sicily this spring. It was gorgeous. In fact, this was the sight that greeted me from the window of the hydrofoil as we docked- quite amazing.
Pozzuoli and Napoli held their own charms- views of the sea and charming locals high among them- but the next stage of my trip launched me into the independent mode of travel. From the seaside you see above, I scaled the cliff (ok, climbed the stairs) with my suitcase, and getting some advice from the tourist office, I scouted out a few small hotels before deciding on one.
The night of my arrival I wandered around the small town of Sorrento, glimpsing citrus trees in every yard, people in every cafe, and a bustling center of town, which included this gated corner alcove, apparently an ancient
men's club (so unfair).
I walked and walked until I was so hungry I had a hard time making a dinner decision... ending up with this spread, so I didn't end up too badly...
Whole fried anchovies (unless they were sardines? I can't find a good way to tell them apart when battered and fried), octopus, shrimp, and more- all celebrated the generous gifts of the Mediterranean Sea.
Perfect for my sampler nature.
After a couple days like this, I went to see one of the
most famous historical sites right nearby: Pompeii. Having gotten a good look at Vesuvius on the hydrofoil journey crossing the bay from Naples to Sorrento, I was excited to see this city that was buried in an instant, so long ago.
What bowled me over about the site was not the professionalism of the preservation or the views of the countryside (although the site was well managed, the surrounding suburb was rather scrappy), but the unbelievable detail brought to us whole and untouched from that distant culture. Here is a frescoed wall from a bath house.
Such colors, thousands of years of ash and dust later!
I recently had "atavism" explained to me in an online course, and it was connected to the idea of a discontinued past, that past which is not linked to our present because we perceive it to be too different. Pompeii was nothing of the sort- the people living here had road ruts under repair, were building extensions on their houses, and had decorations lovelier than many expensive ones I've seen in our own time.
Mosaics laid so precisely.
Signs lettered so carefully
--and in recognizable script!
It made the tragedy of the deaths in the settlement all the more real. Here, the archaeologists had left their mark, finding the bodies burnt to ash, essentially vacuuming them out, and making plaster casts of how their bodies were found. It was both eerie and compelling to see the models, composed of some of the ash of the bodies themselves, on display in their final, frantic positions.
But since the one plaster model I saw was placed near the entrance I used, I had a couple hours after that of wandering around the narrow streets and peeking through other courtyards to sweep out the sad thoughts. Marvel at the art and society of this little town was the foremost emotion, and by the time I finished, I was ready for switching gears.
What did I jump to?
My cooking lesson with Chef Lucia!
She had a menu planned and printed out for me, and we mixed it up a bit as we went along. Chef Lucia took me through an immense amount of details as we made our way through rolled beef, stuffed eggplant, and rolled eggplant (I requested the eggplant- love it!). One of the highlights of the class was the ballet dance of languages we all did, as her son translated for me, I tried to understand Lucia's Italian, and she mostly understood my English. It made 2+ hours of standing on my feet in the little kitchen fly by, and that is saying something!
Chopping.
Tearing.
Mixing.
Heating garlic in oil!
There are proper ways to do everything, and traditional ways, too, as in whether you peel your cucumber completely or in stripes- one way gives you the Napolitano version, the other, the Sorrentino.
One of the add-on items on the menu was fresh pasta from potatoes, usually known as gnocchi (that is a link to an excellent tutorial with step-by-step pictures- go see for yourself!).
We used a pasta machine, the kind that clamps on the counter and cranks by hand, which led to some more ballet-like hilarity among the three of us. We also used a tool like the one shown in the linked tutorial above, which looks like a miniature washboard. It is obviously a skill learned through repetition, to drag two fingers with a dollop of gnocchi dough over the wooden board in such a way to create the classic shape. I tried, but my pasta didn't win any beauty contests!
It was a lot of fun, and even though setting up the class was stressful at the last minute, and finding the place was another adventure, it was all totally worth it.
Now I have this precious experience to share with you!
Have you taken cooking classes on vacation? How did it give you a different view of the location and the region's people? Did it help you connect the region's past with its, and your, present?
It's magic!
Let us hear about it in the comments...
One of the repeating themes of Naples (entirely open to interpretation, I might add) was the graffiti, and this character was one of more than a dozen similar figures I saw in red, white, blue, and black. They were all clownish stylized figures, and this one made me think it might be related to a football club, but I can't find anything on it, at least not by searching in English.
I tried to pay attention to these signs, but there were so many! Naples is crammed with so many layers of history and competing cultures that while it is very easy to find something peculiar and charming, it is difficult to determine the origin of that thing. Well, usually. Not so for the historical courtyards, which are marked by marble signs on the street, as proper as any town of antiquity. This was my favorite: simply an inner courtyard, now for parking, that used to gently welcome its inhabitants home with the sound of water and the pleasing elegance of stately painted columns. (I think that's supposed to be a stag, but its ears to the side do give it the look of a donkey, don't they?) Ah, the life of a courtier, eh?
