Eating Eggs - Breaking Rules!

Italians definitely do things differently than Americans. I have tried adapting to the cultural changes, and I think I’m doing a decent job. However, I couldn’t resist. Today, I decided to break a rule... and it was a doozy!

I decided for breakfast, instead of eating typical biscotti and a fruit, I would have a good old fashioned American Breakfast! One that I know will make me feel “full and focused” all day, and during my run!

So what did I eat? I ate eggs. 

Yes. EGGS!

You might be wondering why this is so strange, as eggs are a staple in American’s breakfasts, but here, not so much.

Eggs are available, and Italians eat them, but very seldom, and NEVER for breakfast.

But I did it! I brewed a nice espresso, cooked three eggs sunny-side up with freshly-grated parmigiana, and I even found some ketchup in the fridge to top it off.

Granted, I did this by myself, without any one watching, so it’s not that cool - 

but hey, at least I know I’m a bad-ass breaking all the rules! 

Loneliness

“Loneliness adds beauty to life. It puts a special burn on sunsets and makes night air smell better.” - Henry Rollins

While drinking my succulent peach juice and taking in the warm sun in San Giovanni Saturday afternoon, my friend asked me a strange question. One that I hadn’t pondered as of yet.

With his rolled cigarettes, messy brown hair and casual demeanor, he reminded me of a younger version of Johnny Depp, or at least what I had seen in interviews and photographs.

But, I took his words and questions to heart. This wasn’t a screenplay.

He asked me if I felt... alone.

What a beautiful, yet complicated word. Alone. There are so many meanings to this word that I stumbled upon my thoughts while contemplating what to say to him in reply.

My immediate response was a definite no; how could I possibly feel alone? I have some of the best friends a girl could ask for, a family that loves me unconditionally, a job that allows me to be free, yet grow and learn at the same time. And, I’m living in place that brings me unwavering joy every day.

But as I tried to make sense of this question, my thoughts began running circles around my head.

Should I feel alone? What does he mean by this? Alone because I live in a strange place? Alone because I’m single? 

The past few days have given me time to contemplate this question.

“Do I feel alone?”

And I realize that I do feel alone. But, strangely enough, I like this feeling of being alone. It’s a strange sensation.

My friends are thousands of miles away, apart from the friends I have in Italy. My family is also thousands of miles away; and my home, the place I know the best, resides in a completely different time zone.

But, for me, this bring me excitement. I’m alone, without the support system I’m used to; the comfort I know. I live in a strange place, hardly knowing anyone, and hardly understanding a word they say. 

But, how cool is that? This is my time to either sink or swim. 

I could stay closed-off from the culture, and avoid interacting if I so choose; in six months I can hop back on a plane and return to America, and use my pictures as memories.

Or, I can take my loneliness and turn it into an opportunity. Without having the comfort of my family, friends and home, I can grow. And focus on me. Without commitments to friends or family, with the strange inability to completely engage in casual conversations,  I have time for ME. M.E. 

So yes, my friend, I feel alone. But this does not scare me. I pray that my loneliness will give me the chance to find something in me worth living for, and happiness that is never ending.

Cooking In Italy!

I used to cook. A lot. I like having the control over what I’m eating and what I’m not eating. It keeps me healthy. And I used to think I was fairly good at it; I could grill, and bake, and follow recipes. And I was proud of myself when I would cook for other people; I wanted to share the fun I had in the kitchen with others.

No one ever complained, in fact, my food always seemed to be thoroughly enjoyed.

Well, moving to Italy gave me a new prospective on my cooking abilities.

I may be Italian in heritage, but I can’t cook - I can’t even boil pasta so it’s “al dente”, or make espresso without burning the coffee pot. 

Basically, I suck. 

Fail. Epic fail on my part. Beatrice will starve because of me.

Grreeat.

Francesca could see my frustration, and I knew Vincenzo was disappointed as well. An American-style breakfast, or homemade chili is all he wants, and so far, I don’t think he trusts me with a butter-knife.

Because of her understanding nature, and her desire to show her beautiful new home to her family, Francesca decided to throw a feast on Friday. 

A feast prepared by none other than me and her.

When she announced this at dinner, I thought Vincenzo would choke on his prosciutto. Francesca works late, and never has time to cook, and his live-in Au Pair chopped her finger off while cutting an olive (Brava on my part). 

Yea, right, a feast? 

He looked at me and said in his broken accent,

“You two,cooking? For fourteen people? Just let me be in charge of the wine. Once there’s wine, and lots of it. I will be ok. I’m always better with wine.”

Che Palle!! 

(What a pain in the ass!)

Well guess what? We did it! We prepared a 6-course meal, and it was delicious, and it was amazing. And Vincenzo, and the rest of the family ate every last morsel.

 Fresh produce right off the bushes, fresh fish right out of the sea.

 The first course. Salmon and veggie cakes.

 Francesca adding the finishing touches.

Vincenzo was speechless! 

Feeding the American

Talk about a food coma! Sleep never came so easily! 

Buona Pasqua - Happy Easter... an event so extraordinary American eating champion Joey Crawford would be put to the test! 

Traditionally, I have always spent Easter, as well as every other holiday with my family. Whether it is just my parents, my brother and myself, or other relatives and loved ones, we have always been together.

On Easter, we would search for Easter eggs around the house, filled with money (this tradition NEVER got old), eat tons and tons of candy, and eventually sit down for a meal prepared by my mom, or grandmothers. 

This year, however, my holiday was spent in a completely different way. A way I will never forget: In Rome.

At first, I was unsure how it would go; strange not to be around your family during these times. However, Francesca’s graciousness was beyond heartwarming.

I’ve only been living with them for 5 days, and already I feel apart of their family. Based on my past, I never have had to spend a holiday alone, and being made to feel as one with them was touching.

You know in old movies where you see the Italian nonna’s feeding you until you’re sick and need to be rolled home?

Well it’s not like that everyday. HOWEVER, on Easter - It’s a different story.

When I say I ate from afternoon until evening, it is not an understatement. And because I am the new American girl who hardly eats any food (according to them), and hardly speaks any Italian, I was the center of attention when it came to the food.

Every dish was a “specialty” and I had to eat it. 

“Mangia!” 

“Mangia!”

“Mangia!”

They are in no means trying to force food down my throat, it is a mere way to show their love and graciousness -

For them, food is their present. 

And it was my birthday!

The whole day was a beautiful day. Even though I was eating like it was my job. I cannot explain to you the amount of love Francesca’s family showed to me. And to one another!

Lunch in Montalto was accompanied under the beautiful sun, with bottles of wine and grappa, and a dozen people showing happiness towards each other’s company. 

Dinner (yes there was a dinner too) overlooked the countryside in Citta di Canino (city of the dogs, non lo so) and included 10 bottles of wine, prosecco (a type of champagne) and about 25 family members. 

I cannot lie when I say I was all smiles all evening. Laughing and enjoying myself! Being surrounded by Italians who speak zero english, you’d think I’d feel overwhelmed, but I had so much fun my heart could burst. 

Not because of the food.

Or the wine,

or the espresso.

Because I’m no longer a stranger - I’m a part of this beautiful family.

Buona Pasqua!