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Archive for the ‘Orvieto’ Category

IMG_1411Some people believe that in life “shit happens” – millions of bumper stickers even say so.  These same realists might think that everything unfolds over our lifetime in a series of random occurrences and that wishing and hoping result in a future full of disappointments?  My rational side can understand this philosophy but the dreamer in me can’t quite go along with it. 

“Follow your bliss and the universe will open doors where there were only walls.”  – Joseph Campbell

Did you know that you can talk to the universe and sometimes the universe listens?  It’s been listening to me lately.  I don’t always believe in things I can’t see or touch, but I sure as hell believe in that…and “what goes around comes around”, and right and wrong, and trusting your gut, and true friendship, and love…

…and “mind over matter”. 

Maybe I’m becoming a true believer.

Photograph of the Duomo d’Oriveto by Toni DeBella

by Toni DeBella

 

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This is an actual email I received this morning from a friend:

IMG_1344Soooo….how is everything?

Lots of rain here.

My roof is leaking.

Just got in from my second trip to JFK in a week.

I spent a week in Bangkok last month.

Tell me all about your new life.

xo. D

6 December, 2012

Dear D,

We had a flood here four weeks ago. Bad.

I sit in my office a lot in front of my computer.

I drink too many cappuccinos.

I ran into my ex the other day. Awkward.

Haven’t eaten any pasta yet.

Only ate one gelato.

Eva is a great Italian teacher.

Had to substitute her for the Italian news online.

I changed my cellular provider without help.

It took two attempts.

It rained yesterday.

Supermarket is closed on Wednesdays.

I ate cereal for dinner.

The Mayor says I belong in a category called “Orvietini”

I like it.

xo. T

by Toni DeBella

 

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How often do I get to say this sentence?  

“Last night I went to a party in a castle.”

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IMG_1356The event was hosted by the amazing talent and Caravaggio lookalike, ceramic artist Marino Moretti. Inside his studio, located in a partially restored 9th-century castle in the town of Viceno, people gathered for a pre-holiday brindisi (toast). I tagged along with my friend, textile conservator and dealer, Igor Honkanen and was pleasantly surprised to see other friends who were in attendance. I was the new girl in town – well not really.

Two guys were hunched over in intense conversation in front of theIMG_1346 fire, and Igor split off to talk to some other people, so I wandered around the hall in awe of all the colorful pottery surrounding us. Marino’s lovely wife Marilyn was such a gracious hostess and the couple’s handsome teenage son acted as the bartender.  I was trying to play it cool, but the phrase kept repeating in my head, “I am in a castle, I am in a castle, I am in a castle”. 

IMG_1840As for Marino’s works, they are quite particular. His pieces fall mostly in the category of Majolica ceramics, but what I really want to say is that they’re in a class by themselves.

Majolica is a traditional way of tin-glazing pottery that dates back to the 13th century.  The technique uses vibrant colors and often depicts historical figues and tells legends through figures and scenes. Moretti’s creations come in earthenware, terracotta and porcelain.  Since the 1970s, Marino has gathered quite a large and loyal following.

Tonight the main room was filled with his whimsicalIMG_1350 pottery displayed in groupings of vases, bowls and platters. In the corner were spindly garden sculptures. Handpainted tiles of yellow, blue, green and red hung like Renaissance calling cards. Happy medieval figures danced around the outside of bowls and ancient fish swam across platters. Even a crazy man was biting his own tail; it’s serious art that doesn’t take itself too seriously.  

I found my way into the potter’s workshop where small cups and vases were perched on simple wooden shelving. I took a deep breath before attempting to pick up a tiny espresso cup with a medieval man’s head on it. I lifted it gingerly, careful not to bump it against the other cups or drop it. It seemed so precious and delicate. I admired it and felt how light it was in my hand. If I owned this cup, I don’t think I could bear to drink coffee out of it!  It might be just a little cup and saucer to some people, but to me it’s a fine work of art.

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Marino Moretti Studio d’Arte, via del Castello Vecchio, 12-05014 Viceno (TR), 0763 361663 – 320 2651654

For more information go to www.marinomoretti.it or email: info@marinomoretti.it

by Toni DeBella

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In Orvieto they do. 

They say LOVE is the universal language, but really it’s FOOD.  Bridging the gap between languages, cultures, and traditions – food is humanity’s common denominator.  “Yum” translates in every language.

Last evening, a large contingency of rowdy Americans, along with a strong delegation from the Eurozone: Italy (of course), Germany, England, Scotland and Finland, gathered to share a meal, wine and friendship.

It’s my understanding that in preparation for this turkey dinner, Carlo, the owner of Ristorante Dell’Ancora, was bombarded with weeks of strict and precise instructions on how to properly prepare a traditional “Norman Rockwell-style” Thanksgiving meal. The anxious, but well-meaning party organizer’s fears were finally quelled by Carlo’s confident annunciation, “Don’t worry, I will make a Thanksgiving dinner better than they do in the United States!”

To use a typically American expression…Carlo hit this one out of the ballpark!

by Toni DeBella

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The Etruscan Chef by Lorenzo Polegri & Kim Brookmire is not just another book about food or cooking, although it tells of both. 

It’s a window into the past and present lives of Umbrians and their cuisine – a memoir of food and its genesis from their ancestors, the Etruscans.  Lorenzo writes, “We used to be Etruscans.  I don’t know if we still are, but we love to think so.” 

Chef Polegri presents us with a book that is written by a boy who is now a man.  After reading it from cover to cover, I feel as though I know him, and the people he introduced me to, just a little bit better.  The smiling faces of the vendors I see at the outdoor market every week now have names. Absorbing Lorenzo’s words, I will try to remember that a farmer toiled in a nearby field to bring these delicious and real foods to my table.  Grandparents, parents, children and friends: Through Lorenzo’s stories from his childhood, his teenage years, and now his adulthood, I see more clearly the strong and beautiful people of my adopted home, and for this I am grateful. 

The Etruscan Chef is a pleasurable and emotional glimpse into the soul of a life in Umbria, Italy.

Lorenzo & Kim

To learn more about Chef Polegri and his work go to www.ristorantezeppelin.it or find him on Facebook

by Toni DeBella

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All packed and nowhere to go.

Hurricane Sandy, like the Icelandic Volcano several years before it, had rearranged my date of departure leaving me cooling my jets in California for another week.  You know how it is when you’re ready to go somewhere – a delay can be a huge letdown.  My friend calls it “premature elation”.  On the bright side, it was great to hang out with my Mom and Andrew a little bit longer, but after seven days on hold I decided to reroute my trip and fly to Frankfurt instead.

Am I becoming one of those people who always has a story?

On Tuesday I arrived in Frankfurt without incident, carrying everything I own crammed into two seventy-pound suitcases. I literally lumbered over to the DB Bahn desk for a train ticket to Italy. I explained to the young reservationist that I must be on the next train to Orvieto, Italy.  She said the train to Munich was leaving in exactly twelve minutes, so I slapped down my credit card and took off like a bat out of hell – I hopped onto the train with just minutes to spare!  I enjoyed the German countryside, but my train arrived in Munich late, so I had to make a run for it (with two heavy bags, “run” would be an overstatement).  The conductor announced they would be pulling away from the station in 30 seconds so I flung my bags onto the last carriage – I think I have a hernia now.  But really, the important thing is I was on my way to Orvieto at last!

I took a seat by the window and looked out at the passing cities of Nuremberg, Innsbruck, Trento…oh sh*t! I took the wrong train!  Apparently Rovereto is not the German word for “Orvieto”, but actually a town near Verona. Oh well, at least I was traveling in the right direction.

In Verona, my friendly Austrian conductor, Arnold, offered to let me tag along with the train employees to their hotel and even convinced the front desk to give me a good rate.  A pizza, a shower and a good night’s sleep was just what the doctor ordered.

In the morning I was on the train to Orvieto via Bologna.  I met a lovely veterinarian from Rome, Marco, who helped me get my bags (or as he referred to them, my armadi (wardrobes)) off of the train at Bologna Centrale and three hours later I arrived at my new home.  My friend heard my bags rolling down the marble stairs all the way from the station lobby.  She remarked how lucky I was to have avoided the excess baggage charges by the airline.  Yeah, I am lucky.

by Toni DeBella

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After finishing a Chinese meal, I can hardly wait to crack open my fortune cookie to see what the future holds! Those forecasts that portend good things find themselves taped to the inside cover of my journal for safekeeping and easy reference:

“A bold and dashing adventure is in your future within a year.”

Yeah, it is.

Confucius Says…

My new friend, Shanghai-born travel writer Vivian Mao, explains that the fortune cookie doesn’t actually exist in China – it’s an American invention. The exact origin of this little roll of sugar, flour, vanilla, sesame seed oil with a tiny paper prophecy tucked inside seems to be in dispute. The Japanese claim the recipe came from their traditional cracker while the Chinese insist that they popularized it. As the fortune cookie battle rages on, I think that we can all agree on one thing: Good news and sage advice all wrapped-up in a sugar cookie is pretty awesome!

“You health is important. Eat your vegetables!”

…Words of wisdom.

by Toni DeBella

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Perfectly warm, sunny weather; crystal-clear blue skies with not a cloud in sight; fighter pilots creating sonic booms in shiny blue and gold jets above the Golden Gate Bridge…It’s Fleet Week, baby!

I think the Blue Angels are the rock stars of the skies.  That navy pilot who flew the United Airlines jumbo jet at a dangerously low altitude over the San Francisco Bay has nerves of steel.  

If the Blue Angels soaring into the wild blue yonder at the speed of sound doesn’t make you jump up and down and squeal like a little girl, then there’s something seriously wrong with you!  Good day. Sunshine. Jets.

 

by Toni DeBella

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As far back as I can remember I loved baloney sandwiches!  My childhood obsession was so famous that family, friends, and neighbors referred to me as “Toni Baloney”.  Undaunted by the nickname, I was actually quite proud to be so closely associated with my favorite pink, slippery and quintessentially American cold cut.  After all, “Oscar Mayer has a way with B-O-L-O-G-N-A.”

But as it happens, I grew up and had my first taste of baloney’s sophisticated Italian cousin, Mortadella, and I was a goner!  My boloney-eating days were over – this smooth, sweet and spicy, pistachio-filled deli roll is the “caviar” of lunchmeat.

I haven’t been to Bologna, Italy yet, but I am planning my pilgrimage once I’m settled in Orvieto.  The city of Bologna is famous for this finely ground, heat-cured pork salumi, produced there since the 14th century.  Suspected to have originally been a Roman sausage, Mortadella di Bologna has achieved the epitome of food recognition – it has a Protected Geological Indication status designated by the European Union to preserve the regional names of products.  In strict accordance with these delicious guidelines, a classic Mortadella di Bologna must be prepared with 15% evenly distributed squares of fat, no preservatives, fillers, or additives.  Naturale!

When in Italy I will be living-off Mortadella’s mouth-watering yumminessI’ll eat it for breakfast, lunch, dinner, and as a bedtime snack.  I’ll eat it between two pieces of bread, thinly sliced “as is” with a glass of wine, cubed, fried, moussed and spread, and stuffed into tortellini.  Any way you slice it…Mortadella e’ bella!  

P.S.  I’m thinking of changing my nickname.  How does “Toni DeMortadellaBella” grab you?

by Toni DeBella

 

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60 days, 8 weeks, 1440 hours, 86,400 minutes and 5,184,000 seconds…

Everyday I obsessively enter my impending departure date into a duration calculator, but strangely the “days remaining until I arrive in Italy” number never seems to decrease. Time is not just dragging, it has come to a screeching halt and I’ve begun to wonder if my new life in Orvieto will ever begin? I fear I could be trapped in some kind of weird vortex or bizarre Italian space-time continuum!

Harry’s touching sentiment in the film, When Harry Met Sally echoes my own:

“…when you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with someone (or, in my case, somewhere), you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible.”

Unfortunately like a pot, a watched country never boils.

by Toni DeBella

 

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