The Herb Bag Experiment

As well as sounding like a good name for a 70's prog band, The Herb Bag Experiment is one of my more improvised attempts at making a liqueur.

I'm a big fan of herby digestives (stop thinking of biscuits) like Amaro Averna and (like Michael Caine's Alfred) Fernet Branca and fancied making one of my own. I saw a recipe in my reliable source book - Housewives' Liqueurs (itself a product of the 70's) - for '30 Erbe': A digestivo/amaro that calls for 30 different herbs in various proportions. OK, I thought, probably possible if we lived in the Dolomites or Lessinia, but the foraging opportunities are more limited down here in the flat land of tobacco, fruit trees and reproduction furniture. So I left it at that.

One evening I was rooting through the cupboard for a teabag and an idea came to me: Tisane are very popular in Italy. You can find a remarkable range of infusions in the supermarket, at least as many as in the UK. And most of the bags contain herbs in various combinations - the majority of which matched those called for in the recipe. What if I adapted the recipe and tried to infuse the alcohol with a few herby teabags? Worth a try.

So I pulled out some boxes, selected a handful of bags that contained a heady mix of various flora and set to fiddling in the lab.

Here's the final recipe:

The Herb Bag Experiment
makes 750ml

Selection of herb infusion (tisana) bags
250ml 95º alcohol
500ml Vermouth Bianco
150ml sugar
Grated peel 1 lemon

Macerate the bags and lemon peel in the alcohol for 15 days, shaking daily
Filter the alcohol, combine with the vermouth and sugar and shake vigourously
Leave for 1 month, shaking daily
Filter, bottle and leave for at least 5 months before serving

Here are the bags I used back in May:
POMPADOUR 6 ERBE - Anice, Liquirizia, Finocchio, Timo, Timo Serpillo, Salvia
POMPADOUR DEPURATIVA - Tarassaco, Fiori Di Camomilla, Curcuma, Finocchio
GLÜHFIX - Bucce d'arancia, Cannella, Chiodi di garofano
LIBERO MONDO TISANA BUONA NOTTE - Camomilla, Verbena odorosa, Maggiorana, Melissa

So the mix included aniseed, liquorice, fennel seed, thyme, sage, dandelion, camomile, cumin, dried orange peel, cinnamon, cloves (the Glühfix bag was a shortcut to glüwein that I found in the back of the cupboard), lemon verbena, marjoram and lemon balm. Not bad!

I assumed the vermouth would add more herbinesss and sweetness, so I dropped the amount of sugar from the original recipe.

The Herb Bag Experiment - ready for tasting

The 5 months maturing in the bottle were up a couple of weeks ago, so we popped it open and had a taste… And it was really good! Herby, light and just sweet enough. I preferred it sloshed around an ice cube and thought it came across like a more benign version of Benedictine. I'd probably drop the amount of vermouth next time as it was a little too present in the final flavour for my taste, but the bottle didn't last long. Good sign.

Salute!

One year on… | Un'anno dopo la rotonda

So it's been a year.

We arrived in Italy last November, having driven through France on a very quiet All Saints day, passing under Mont Blanc in our proud old Fiat Bravo.

The year has gone by quickly for me. Getting accustomed to life here was easy in some ways, difficult in others; but the seasons have flown by and it feels like only yesterday that we were sitting down for our first meal together in our 'new' home.

Not quite new - we moved in with my wife's parents. There are all sorts of jokes in both languages about this kind of situation, but the experience so far for me has been a positive one. I do have the advantage of being the first boy in the house for a while, my in-laws having had three daughters. Needless to say my instant popularity came with a few advantages. I won't go into all of them, but I'm in no danger of starvation…

One year on, I now feel that I can start to comment on what I'm seeing and hearing around me with a little perspective. My next few posts will, in the main, be dedicated to how I feel about Italy, Italians and life here in the Bel Casino.

In the meantime… buona giornata a tutto voi!

Booze update: Miyagawacino taste test, Brasiliero and fun with kiwis

It was a busy weekend in the booze lab. 

Yesterday we tried the first batch of Miyagawacino and on Saturday I bottled off my latest Brasiliero (coffee liqueur) and started off a Kiwi syrup. 

The Miyagawacino has turned out really nice and smooth. At just over 30% by volume it's lighter than it's 'parent' limoncino recipe - in fact, the freezer was turned up way too high so I found all the bottles frozen solid when it came time to pull one out. The taste is still quite lemon/lime but you definitely get mandarin when you take a sniff. I might make some every autumn...

The Brasilio is my second batch. The first turned out to be great for pouring over ice-cream, affogato-style; though it was too sweet and cloying for my taste. In with fresh ground coffee to macerate in the alcohol had gone a scraped-out vanilla pod and some lemon peel, as well as a 50/50 sugar syrup a week of vigorous shaking later. This latest batch goes easy on the vanilla, sugar and shaking and tasted much closer to what I want when I took a cheeky sip. Let's see how it matures in the bottle - I reckon it'll be very close to Tia Maria when it's ready. 

The kiwi syrup is a bit of an experiment. I'd started off a bottle of raspberry syrup ('Lampocchero') earlier this month by throwing 500g raspberries, sugar, lemon peel, some mint and basil leaves and alcohol into a bottle. The recipe said to leave in the sun for a week(!) but I'm committed to shaking it daily for five months before giving it a try. The kiwi bottle follows similar quantities and I'm hoping I end up with a pair of boozy syrups perfect for cocktail ingredients or the base of a Bellini variation next May. (Sticky) fingers crossed!

Salute!

A seasonal pink drink: Pomgrané

My last efforts at creating some interesting after-dinner drinks left me with some alcohol left over, so I put my mind to what fruit might be in season and appropriate for another experiment.

As is usually the way, within 5 minutes of having begun this zen-like contemplation my father-in-law walked in to say he'd just got back from seeing a nephew who, as well as helping him out with his computer, was covering a mound of pomegranate seeds with sugar and grappa in a large jar.

Pomegranate pips, fresh from the fruit and ready to soak'n'shake

So there was my next fruit. Turning to the trusty Liquori Casalinghi ("Housewives' Liqueurs") I found a recipe for a digestivo made from melograno: Pomgrané.

Beautiful fruit bought from the local cooperative

The recipe called for a simple mix of pips, alcohol, sugar, water and some herbaceous leaves. Not knowing quite which plants they came from (or how much a difference a few leaves would make if I found them) and wanting to dilute the alcohol a little with something a bit, well... botanical, I adapted the recipe to include the remains of a bottle of Bombay Sapphire gin instead of some of the 95º alcohol.

Pipping the melograni and getting the ingredients together

Here's my adapted recipe:

Ingredients:

400g (approx) Pomegranate pips
100ml Bombay Sapphire gin
200ml 95º alcohol
300ml water
150g sugar

I found that 4 beautiful, ripe and ready fruit weighing about 1.5 kilos gave me enough pips.

Put all the ingredients into a 1 litre jar.
Leave for 1 month, shaking regularly.
Filter, bottle and leave for 5 months before drinking.

All the ingredients just added to the jar and freshly shaken.
(As I type 3 days later it's taken on a vivid pink hue and the pips are floating in suspension)

I imagine that cousin Gianni's grappa-based version will be sweeter and ready sooner, but my jar is already a vivid pink, the pips suspended and translucent. Can't wait till the six months are up!

Salute!

Miyagawacino and other experiments

I successfully made a couple of batches of limoncino earlier this year (the last of which is bound to disappear over the next couple of weeks) and when it was time to have another go, I made an interesting supermarket discovery: Miyagawa.

Miyagawa in my local supermarket 

Looking like clementines, only green, these fruit (also known as Mikawa) are a Japanese citrus but appear in Italian supermarkets at this time of year because they grow particularly well in Sicily. You could mistake them for fat limes and their taste isn't that far off: Tart but sweeter than a lime, similar to a mandarin crossed with a grapefruit.

Green on the outside... no pips, easy to peel and fantastic to eat 

Their season is early and short, so I thought that as well as trying a version of my limoncino recipe - Miyagawacino - I'd also experiment with a couple of other recipes from my 70's Liquori Casalinghi ("Housewives' Liqueurs"(!)) book.

Peeling the miyagawa by cutting them into eighths and then separating flesh from peel. 

The first of these was a take on triple-sec - Secagawa - using the juice of the fruit used to make the miyagawacino as well as some more of the green peel, cloves and cinnamon. Following a recipe from the book where the principal ingredient is supposed to be kumquats (mandarini cinesi), all of the ingredients were put in a 1 litre jar with 95º alcohol cut down with spring water and some sugar. This mixture will sit in the jar and get shaken every day for 6 months, before being filtered and left to mature in the bottle for another 5.

The resulting peel, once as much of the white pith has been shaved off as possible with a sharp knife 

I then followed a similar recipe for a drink that should have quite a different result. Mandotai secco is also based on kumquats, this time asking from them to be left whole when put in the jar with the other ingredients. Needing about 300g of fruit, I put three miyagawa into my Miyagawatai secco mix, along with the cinnamon, cloves, sugar and watered-down alcohol. This will get shaken from 5 months and then stay in the bottle for 6 (I love how randomly specific the recipes in Liquori Casalinghi are) and thus be ready on the same day as the Secagawa.

So September 2014 is should be a good month for after-dinner drinking round our house.

In goes the 95º alcohol 

Jars ready for shaking (l-r): Miyagawatai secco, Miyagawacino, Secagawa

But before then, the miyagawacino should be ready in about a month. Like last time, I'll shake it for a couple of weeks then filter and bottle, freezing it two weeks later. I'd like to cut the strength of it this time (the last batch of limoncino came in at over 40º) - so I'll be doubling the quantity of sugar syrup I add between filtering and bottling.


Salute!

Making Limoncino

Back in January I was given a family recipe and soon afterwards I had my first go at making limoncino, the classic and very refreshing Italian after-dinner tipple. If you’ve holidayed in Sorrento (or shopped in Waitrose) then you probably sampled limoncello - and this is the same drink. A family Uncle, Zio Mario, assures me that limoncino is simply the Northern Italian name and it’s his recipe I followed: Limoncino alla Mario

Working instructions for Limoncino alla Mario

The bottom shelf
The first step was to buy a short list of ingredients: alcohol, lemons and sugar. In Italian supermarkets you can pick up a bottle a ‘pure’ alcohol for a few euros. And they’re usually nested on the bottom shelf of the booze section - probably because the bottles are a bit simple and ugly-looking. Or habitual purchasers are already on the floor. This is a surprising and delightful discovery for someone from the UK, where I’m sure you won’t find find anything so flammable or inviting to winos anytime soon.

95º vol. on the bottom shelf

So, having picked up a litre of 95º vol. clear liquor, I headed for the fruit & veg...
...to find there weren’t any lemons. 

Uh-oh...

Did they hear I was coming? As I stood there muttering to myself I heard a polite cough behind me. I hopped out of the way clumsily as a whole fresh batch of lovely lemons was wheeled into place. Fresh, organic lemons make really good limoncino - because its the taught, oily skin that you use to infuse the alcohol.

Fresh organic lemons in my local supermarket

Mario’s recipe called for 13 good-sized lemons, which I duly plucked from the pile. Tempted as I was by the promise of 'Sadam' granulated sugar, a kilo of brown organic zucchero di cana completed my shopping list.

Sadam in your tea, anyone?

Zesting the lemons
The first part of the process involves getting all the yellow zest off the lemons. I had a few options for doing this, but guessing that the more of the zest I could infuse in the alcohol the better, I opted for removing the skin from sections of the fruit and then trying to ‘shave’ the white, bitter pith off the inside of each piece.

All you need for some bottles of the good stuff

This proved time-consuming but very successful. My goal was to have as much of the yellow and as little of the white as possible and this certainly did the trick. (I’ve since made another batch of limoncino by zesting the lemons with a simple zesting tool which resulted in half as much yellow peel and nowhere near as good results).

Separating the white pith from the yellow peel

Having scrubbed them in bicarbonate of soda and warm water, my strategy was to first cut the lemons into eighths and then peel the skin away from the fruit. With fresh, firm lemons this was pretty easy. I then used a small, sharp knife to cut into each section of skin and separate the white from the yellow, shaving any remaining bits of white from each section with another pass of the knife.

Shaving the peel took time but was worth it

The end result: fruit, pith and peel separated

Happy with how this turned out, all that remained was to tip the lemon peel into a large, sterilised kilner jar and cover it with the litre of alcohol. The instructions said to leave it for 10 days, shaking the jar every day. 

Peel and alcohol in the kilner jar

Do the Lemon Shake...
After about a week of pretty enthusiastic daily (sometimes twice-daily) shaking, I noticed the liquor was taking on a lovely golden colour. Wanting my first batch to be a lemony as possible, I kept up the shaking for a couple of weeks.

Starting to go golden after a week's happy shaking

Sweet enough
The next stage of the process involves making a sugar syrup to add to the lemon-infused alcohol. Uncle M had, confusingly, written 500g of sugar in the ingredients list, over-written this with 600g and then put 700g in the instructions(!). I decided to go for 500g, not wanting my limoncino too sweet (and thinking that half as much sugar as alcohol sounded like the kind of recipe that was easy to remember and pass on).

I put the sugar into a pan with a litre of water, brought it slowly up to boil then left it to cool completely.

Infused alcohol and syrup ready to mix and bottle

I poured off the alcohol, which was by now sunset-yellow; the peel noticeably paler and brittle. I cleaned out the kilner jar and - in tandem with a large pouring bowl - used it to combine the two liquids, pouring back and forth through a pair of fine sieves to catch any sediment. (I’d first tried placing coffee filters over the sieves to try to catch the finer sediment, but the limoncino wasn’t having any of it. Since then I’ve bought medical gauze which has worked out much better.)

When the syrup first met the liquor the resulting liquid turned creamy and opaque, similar in appearance to lemon curd. I’m not sure if this was the result of using unrefined sugar, so much peel or the presence of finer sediment but I liked it just the same.

Once I was happy it had been sieved enough, I decanted the limoncino into bottles.

Mario’s instructions stated it should be left in the bottle for at least 15 days before serving ice cold.

My first limoncino, decanted into some old grappa bottles
and ready to freeze

After a couple of days, there was a noticeable amount of sediment at the top of each bottle. I worried about it for a short while, trying to skim or re-filter the darker matter from the top of each bottle, but after shaking the bottles and putting them in the freezer it didn’t seem to alter the appearance or quality of the resulting drink.

Sediment at the top after a couple of days settling in the bottle

After the 15 days were up, I popped the bottles in the freezer in anticipation of the first excuse to try my debut batch of limoncino!

The taste test
We tried the limoncini together - a bottle from Mario and one of mine - after a long, satisfying Easter lunch. I was interested in seeing how mine stood up, not least because Mario’s only additional advice had been: “If it doesn’t turn out like mine, you’ve done it wrong!”.

Straight from the freezer you could see the difference. Mario’s was clearer than my creamy version and this was even starker when they were poured into their glasses. This surprised me as I’d assumed that there’d be more dissolved sugar in his version so it ought to be cloudier. 

Easter Day: Colomba, Valpolicella, Franciacorta...
...and the limoncino taste test

On tasting, we all agreed that they both tasted authentic (and much better then the normal complementary glass you’d get in a trattoria), though mine had a more intense lemon flavour and thus seemed less ‘alcoholic’. (Of course, they were both rocket fuel when compared to shop-bought equivalents, which tend to level out at about 25º vol.) I reckon my obsessiveness with getting all the yellow peel - Mario must be so over that by now - made the difference. (Certainly, a more recent batch where I used a zester instead of a knife - mentioned above - yielded a result much closer to his version)

Mario's (left) is much clearer than mine

The difference in opacity made even clearer from above

In conclusion, I was really happy with the results and will definitely follow this method again.
Which is as much as I’ve said to Mario... :-)

Salute!

Nothing/Everything Changes

It's been an intense few months. Italy failed to elect a government, so it picked itself amongst much wailing and gnashing of teeth. We've found the job market frustrating and nonsensical. I've jarred, shaken and bottled a variety of homemade spirits, following a housewives' '70's recipe book. Teaching has taken over my life and music is dozing on the back seat of the old Fiat. The weather has been decidedly average, which according to people here means a) it's my fault and b) I must be used to it. I've perfected the bemused look and shrug of the foreigner trying to keep up with the conversation. Summer has sputtered into life and the neighbours' tomato plants are striking upwards to the heavens. I've hardly done any cooking in over six months. Darn. So...

...a lot to write about, then!

Limoncello Pt.2 - It's Limoncino!

Limoncello Pt.2 - É Limoncino!

We had a visit the other day from the family professore who gave me the recipe for this post.

He and his wife popped over for lunch and he brought with him a typed version of the recipe, a bottle of the resulting liquor, an instruction and a challenge...

The bottle's chilling in the freezer and the instructions are up on the fridge door.

The instruction was simple: this is a recipe for Limoncino. The other 'L' word is used by the folks further south - round here we call it something else. So the recipe has now been christened Limoncino alla Mario.

Something to follow when making 'Limoncino alla Mario'

And the challenge was quite simple:

"If you follow the recipe and it doesn't turn out like this bottle I'm giving you ...you didn't follow the recipe."

I'm going to give it a try pretty soon and attempt to document the process here.

Salute!

Grant Benson - My New Hero

Grant Benson - il mio nuovo eroe

In my new life as an English Language teacher I find myself having to do a lot more driving than I used to.

Back in Croydon I commuted into London each day on the train, but here you can't live without wheeled transport. I'll be doing up Thunderbird 7 for the summer, but right now I bomb around the countryside in a battered Fiat Bravo.

Over the weeks I've sampled a lot of radio stations, but I quickly settled on Milan's Radio Number One as my favourite. Partly because the playlist mixes new tunes from Italy and elsewhere with decades of classics and a good slice of euro-cheese, partly because the reception is good from Verona down to Castagnaro, but mainly because of the show Gli Inaffidabili and one of its hosts: Grant Benson.

Grant Benson at Radio Number One

Gli Inaffidabili ('The Unreliables') is on from 9am till 1pm and reminds me most of Radio 1's morning show in the UK when I was stacking Wonderbras for Topshop in the early 90's. Grant may be from Watford, but he presents the show in Italian alongside long-time friend and sparring partner Luca Viscardi. It's just that his version of Italian is nothing like Luca's and ...a lot more like mine! Even his biog on the Radio Number One site reads "He says he's been here 30 years, but it sounds more like 30 days."

What's more, the most loveable thing about him is his presenting style. For here we have old-school, Smashy & Nicey don't-crash-the-vocal-mate presenting at its finest: Just in Italian.

Left: not Grant Benson
Right: not him either

Wikipedia reveals that before working in Italy he broadcast on pirate radio in the 80's; first in Israel and then on Radio Caroline. This might go some way towards explaining his on-air personality, with so many of the Hairy Cornflake-era and beyond starting out in the same way.

GB in his Radio Caroline days

I reckon it's because he's an expat. Not that I'm one to talk, because:
a) I'm one, too and
b) Not a very good example because I'm fresh off the boat
But I get the impression that he's taken what he was used to and kept it pretty much the same whilst joking along in his second language. The result is a charming, left-field time warp. The Captain America back story in a corduroy jacket.

Cord jacket to keep out the mountain air? Check.
Mic in top pocket? Check. Catering? Check.

Luca keeps him on the straight and narrow on their show, gently taking the piss whilst Grant goes off on long linguistic tangents trying to make off-colour remarks that will never be funny in Italian about some chart-topping starlet in hot pants. He keeps trying. They banter.

Then as the intro fades up, the mighty Grant Benson times his "...sul Radio Number One!" perfectly. He doesn't crash the vocal and you can hear him smile.

LACF 2013 or "What Did I Do for the Last 15 Years?"

London A Cappella Festival 2013

This coming weekend - should the UK capital's increasingly snowy weather not interfere - sees the arrival of the fourth London A Cappella Festival.

As a type of performance - singing unaccompanied or 'without' instruments - a cappella isn't too hard to define, but as a genre of music it can't be pinned down: Groups can be found performing virtually every kind of music there is, whether it usually comes with instruments or not. And the LACF brings together the cream of the international crop, as well as some superb foyer acts, fringe activities and a warm, enthusiastic audience that is growing every year.

Teaching English Language and cooking dominate my time now I've moved out to the Italian countryside, but I've spent the last 20 years singing professionally and the last 15 performing with a cappella groups.

Yes, that's me in the hat.

I've been lucky enough to sing with some of the very best - including The Magnets, The Vocal Orchestra and The Swingle Singers, who are now the founders, presenters and star act of the LACF. I sang with the Swingles from 1998 to 2007, providing the odd harmony note (many of them correct) and a mouthful of vocal percussion/beatboxing, as well as working as the ensemble's Technical Director in later years. And they were great years: Touring most of the Northern hemisphere (and some mad incursions into the Southern); performing to enthusiastic crowds in some of the most prestigious halls, arenas and school basketball courts in the world.

I fell into The Swingle Singers - and the world of a cappella - almost by accident (though some very good people and fate can take a good share of the credit). I was at a crossroads in my life - singing professionally in an Anglican cathedral choir, working in a bar, crooning (and downing Guinness) with a quartet for a local hotel's Jazz Brunch every Sunday. I'd considered and applied to go back to music college but I couldn't afford the fees. So I thought I should start auditioning for music jobs - pro choirs and singing groups, maybe some session work - to build my experience, put my name about and pull myself out of a rut.

Onstage with The Swingle Singers in Seoul, South Korea - 2004 

At almost the same time, during what I recall was one of the cathedral services on Easter Day, a note was passed back from the boy trebles to me in the choir stalls. It came from what turned out to be the younger brother of one of the sopranos in the group, Joanna Forbes (later to become the Swingles' Musical Director). And it said (something like): "This note could change your life!"

The Swingle Singers had been hunting for a new baritone and it seemed their desperation had coincided with mine. I called the number on the note, agreed to an audition and thought nothing more than "Well - it'll get me into practice for when the real jobs within reach come along...".

My audition wasn't the best. Any Swingle old or young will tell you that it's a nerve-wracking process for the most talented and well-prepared singer. I wasn't well-prepared. I was very late (my much-loved but poorly maintained '72 Beetle dropped it's alternator on the M25 motorway) and the nerves set my audition persona to 'wise-cracking carefree singing hippy' mode.

I bluffed most of the notes (I was singing from memory alongside the other members of the ensemble - which is easier when you've actually memorised the music), commented how phallic the handheld mics looked (snap this sleek little set up while you can), sang a solo in my Guinness-croon and went on my way, Beetle spluttering into the Hertfordshire traffic. And they offered me the job.

There are nine years' worth of stories to follow ...but those are for another time.

Here's me, talking about LACF 2012.

LACF and The Swingle Singers celebrate the group's 50th Anniversary in 2013 and I'm proud to be one of many alumni. I can't make it to the LACF this year, so I won't be able to catch up in person with the legions of ex-Swingles who nag for comp tickets, clog up the foyer bar, walk in late, hassle the sound engineer when he's trying to concentrate, heckle and generally make a nuisance of themselves.

But the group - and the London A Cappella Festival - goes from strength to strength and it won't be long before they'll come back to this part of Italy for a show. We'll be sure to meet up afterwards  - to share stories and create new ones.

Wikipedia

It had been a while since I looked at the Bovolone entry on Wikipedia, so when I popped over there this morning I was pleased to see the rotonda from which this blog takes it's name in pride of place at the top of the page.

So a name well-chosen - and more blog entries to come.

Fog

La Nebbia

Today was a really foggy day.

The fog here in the pianura veronese is legendary: the folks from around here talk about it with a furrowed brow and in hushed tones ("Of course it's not as bad as thirty years ago..." "We had to drive with our head hanging out of the window to hear the cars coming in the other direction..."); those from the city, when they hear where we are, say "Oh, you're living down in the fog...".

Well today Verona had fog too. It's unusual for it to stretch all the way up to the city but there it was, bathing the buildings in a murky, Dickensian light.

Verona's Piazza Bra, bathed in the nebbia at about 3pm

"You must be used to this, coming from London", they say.
Um... no. Since the clean air act, my city hasn't had another 'pea-souper' for muggers to hide in.

Driving out here in the countryside it's like a David Lynch movie: the road stretching ahead just a few metres before merging into the milky grey.

Midnight in Isola Della Scala last November.
Thick fog and heavy floodlights create a cinematic end to our night out  at the Festa Bollito e la Pearà

I quite enjoy driving in it - for now. Put it down to this being my honeymoon period with my new surroundings, but I love the sense of space but no space that thick fog brings.

It's not without it's perils. This afternoon someone had broken down on a long, fast stretch of road: Had I been travelling at my usual speed, I'd have had the tiniest moment to swerve to avoid him. My sister-in-law couldn't drop my nephew home last night: the lane that leads to his house has a deep ditch on either side and no road markings.

His dad had to come to collect him on foot: I must ask how he felt on the ten-minute walk back in the milky silence (and remember not to mention John Carpenter till he's a bit older).

"Carole-Ann!!"
(Actually, my nephew running ahead on the same night out)

What I need most this year: Time

La cosa che ho più bisogno di quest'anno: Tempo

A Facebook friend posted the poem 'Time' by Carlos Drummond de Andrade in Italian on New Year's Eve. I really liked it but couldn't find a satisfying English translation: So I've had a go myself.

Below is what I hope is the original Portuguese, followed by my effort: I've borrowed some of the form from the original, the Italian translation and another English translation I found online; then simplified and tidied the English phrasing to get nearer the meaning.

Hope you like it - feedback always welcome.

...May you find the time to be happy in 2013!

O Tempo

"Quem teve a ideia de cortar o tempo em fatias, a que se deu o nome de ano, foi um indivíduo genial. Industrializou a esperança, fazendo-a funcionar no limite da exaustão. Doze meses dão para qualquer ser humano se cansar e entregar os pontos. Aí entra o milagre da renovação e tudo começa outra vez com outro número e outra vontade de acreditar que daqui para adiante vai ser diferente.

Para você, desejo o sonho realizado. O amor esperado.

A esperança renovada.

Para você, desejo todas as cores desta vida. Todas as alegrias que puder sorrir, todas as músicas que puder emocionar.

Para você neste novo ano, desejo que os amigos sejam mais cúmplices, que sua família esteja mais unida, que sua vida seja mais bem vivida. Gostaria de lhe desejar tantas coisas. Mas nada seria suficiente para repassar o que realmente desejo a você. Então, desejo apenas que você tenha muitos desejos. Desejos grandes e que eles possam te mover a cada minuto, rumo à sua felicidade!" 

Carlos Drummond de Andrade

Time

Whoever had the idea of slicing time into pieces,

Naming each one ‘year’,

Was a genius.

They industrialised hope,

Pushing it to the limit of exhaustion.

Twelve months are enough for any human being to get tired and give up.

Then comes the miracle of renovation and everything starts again

With another number and another wish to believe that from now on everything will be different…

For you I wish a dream realized. Love expected.

Hope renewed.

For you I wish all the colours of life.

All the joys that smile.

All the music that thrills.

For you in this New Year

I wish your friends to be closer.

Your family more united.

Your life better lived.

I’d like to wish you so many things.

But nothing would be enough to give you what you really wish for.

And so, I simply wish you to have many wishes.

Big wishes that push you forward every minute

Towards your happiness!

Carlos Drummond de Andrade

My friend's photo of the Italian version

GP2 | 1-2 | Il Duce

Benito spacca Giovanni Paolo

This excellent Guardian article, published on 1st January, reminded me of a recent experience close to home.

We had dropped into the local newsagent for a paper (l'Arena) and some bus tickets.

Whilst my wife spoke with the newsagent about the possible money to be saved by buying a book of 10 or a season ticket, I noticed the 2013 calendars on display. There was one each for:

One Direction

Rabbits (the cute but eatable variety)

Padre Pio

Pope Giovanni Paolo II (nothing for the current Pastore Tedesco)

Juventus (currently the leading team in Italy, so I guess that's normal but disappointing to not see one for Hellas Verona)

...and two for Il Duce: Mussolini

A 2012 Calendar, taken from the publisher's site mentioned in the Guardian article from New Year's Day

I don't want to make this blog political (whilst remembering my favourite Skunk Anansie tune…), but it seems strange to me - a newly-arrived outsider - that there's a demand for a choice of calendars featuring a disgraced dead fascist dictator. Perhaps Alexei Sayle has set up a money-making sideline faking new poses: draped across the bonnet of the new Fiat Cubo, staring down the lens knowing he's the second ugliest subject in the shot; seductively licking a liquorice, lemon and morello cherry gelato at Lake Garda, the flavours subtly arranged in the form of the German flag to signify concord with the legion of Bavarian holiday-homers, raised right hand caught in a salute as he beats away a wasp... OK, enough.

One of the calendars was half-hidden behind the cutesy, tasty rabbits; the other proudly flanking One Direction. Make of that what you will!

Of course, the nearer you get to Rome, the more common and open this apparent nonchalance and admiration seems to be. Here, I've noticed Italians make a habit of talking down their country when talking with me - they complain that Italy is 'behind the UK', not as 'advanced' or 'free'. I've also heard it said more than once that things were better in the 1930s. 'It was the last time the country made any progress' was the last opinion shared with me at a dinner party. Hmmm.

There's a sort of rose-tinted and inverted 'what have the Romans done for us?' attitude displayed by some: 'Sure Il Duce was a fascist and did some evil and unforgivable things, but he gave us a post office on every corner, the trains ran on time,...'. 

It's a cliché that still rings true. Either that or I still have a lot to learn.

Project 'V'

Progetto 'V'

Ladies and gentlemen, may I introduce... Project 'V'

A.k.a. Thunderbird 7 (yes there was a Thunderbird 6)
A.k.a. a 1962 Piaggio Vespa 125

1962 Vespa 125 - unaltered since 1967

I'm intending to get this baby back on the road for this summer (crosses fingers!).

It's had two careful* owners - my father-in-law bought it in 1967, just in time to use it to go on honeymoon :-)

A lot of it is original, though the colour should be grigio/noccoiola (grey with a hazelnut base) and it should have two separate seats rather than the handsome tan one he added when he bought it. A few black-coloured faring accessories have been added, along with the spare wheel cover (handmade by... a saddler).

It should be standard grey, but the paint stays for now.

I want to get it up-and-running first: I don't think it's been started for at least 5 years. Then I'll tap the family and local Vespa club (my father-in-law knows the Vice-President ...is there anyone he doesn't know?) for knowledge and parts.

One of my students is restoring one of his three old Vespas, so I know what the subject of our conversation lessons will be for the next few months!

At home in it's garage

It's been garaged all this time, which is fantastic, and isn't without it's scars: the years are etched into the metallic blue paint job.

...and there's a fallback plan in case the project runs too far behind schedule...

Hanging in the other garage, a tandem ready to have it's tyres inflated and to be taken for a spin. Though the last time I tried it out, both chains fell off after 30 metres!

* I've learnt that my father-in-law is rarely - if ever - careful..!!

Bottled Sunshine - Limoncello

Il Sole in Bottiglia - Limoncello

I've just been given the family recipe for Limoncello... and it would be a shame not to share.

You can find 'pure' alcohol in Italian and German supermarkets - otherwise use a cheap neutral spirit like vodka. The resulting liquor won't be as potent - or tasty, according to the professore who donated the recipe...



Limoncello
Ingredients:
10 Lemons (medium-large size, unwaxed)
1 litre Alcohol 'puro' (95%)
600g granulated sugar

Makes:
Limoncello at about 45% and enough for at least 1.5 litres.
---

Clean the lemons really well and leave to soak for at least 2 hours in water and bicarbonate of soda. Dry.

Peel the lemons and collect just the yellow part of the peel - the white (pith) will make your drink bitter.

Add the yellow peel and alcohol to a clean, airtight, stoppered container.
Close and place in a cool, dark space to macerate. Shake or turn over the container once per day and leave for at least 15 days.

When you're ready to make the limoncello, boil 1 litre of water. Slowly add the sugar, stirring constantly. As soon as all the sugar is dissolved, take off the heat and leave to cool completely.

Remove all the peel from the alcohol.

When the syrup is cool, mix well with the infused alcohol and decant into clean, sealable bottles (I think I'm going to use 500ml bottles first time around).

Place bottles in the freezer and serve very cold - preferably after a long, jovial lunch.