Daisy, Daisy...

While I still have the greatest enthusiasm for this mission, I am starting to think that Hal wasn't the only machine capable of cunning and destruction.

First of all, I didn't realize that my Gelato maker could also make cottage cheese. That is, until I caught a glimpse of my ass in the mirror.

And lately, I've been hearing a soft, hypnotic voice from the kitchen while I try to sleep at night, whispering "try fig with chocolate shavings" and "we're getting low on pomegranate juice" and "throw out those vegetables."

I finally had to admit that my Gelato maker is possessed.

I couldn't face her, so I snuck into the kitchen in the middle of the night, threw a towel over the she-devil and pulled the plug, before she could burst into whiny choruses of Daisy, Daisy. It was pathetic... but banishment to the basement was the only solution.

So I've replaced one Instrument of the Devil with another.

Right in front of the TV. We'll see if this lasts the week.

But I have sworn off Gelato... until May. I'll be in New York around Victoria Day, and I expect to spend most of my time here...

Yup. The wondrous Gelato palace of Italy, GROM, has expanded to the US and has 3 stores in Manhattan. One is in Greenwich Village, and another is near Columbus Circle. I'm checking to see if they rent rooms.




Nom nom nom nom nom...!!!!!

When Life Hands You Egg Whites...

... make Baked Alaska.

That's the thing about making gelato or ice cream. Each batch takes 4 egg yolks, so you end up with a fridge full of egg whites. You're eating egg white omelettes and more egg white omelettes. I was tempted to leave them out for the raccoons...

But at New Years, when some form of indulgence is called for, what could be a better way to use up egg whites than home made gelato turned into Baked Alaska?

I had only been served this once, likely 35 years ago, but it left a memory. And it couldn't be easier.

You need a cake base and, in a hurry, small store bought sponge cake shells will do. Sprinkled with Grand Marnier and with a spoonful of strained Raspberry-Blueberry jam added, they need to freeze before adding the gelato. They should be on a foil-covered, oven proof sheet.

A scoop of limone gelato (or, for one dairy-phobe, sorbetto), and back into the freezer.

When ready for dessert, whip the egg whites with a pinch of salt and, when nearly stiff, a few spoons of sugar, and cover the gelato and cake base with a layer of meringue, making sure to cover the cake without leaving any gaps for the gelato to leak out.

Into a 425' oven until browned and serve right away.

The gelato inside was perfectly creamy on the outside and still frozen in the center. 

This may not be Italy, but I think it was the first time I said 'nom nom nom nom nom' since I was back. The good company didn't hurt, either!

Happy New Year!

Italy for Christmas

Marketing experts can quantify anything - hair conditioner will give your hair 67% more volume, mascara will give your lashes 72% more fullness, blah blah blah.

So, what exactly is going to happen to my ass now that my misguided family has given me a Gelato maker for Christmas?

There it is. My Christmas-red beauty! Little did I know when I romped happily over to their house on Christmas that I was about to meet my doom. My lovely doom. Wrapped in a big box with a tag reading 'The Quest Continues'.

It didn't help a bit that Epicurious has dozens of Gelato recipes on line. It helped even less that that Chapters stocks a book called 'The Ciao Bella Book of Gelato & Sorbetto' and that I had a gift certificate burning a hole in my pocket.

Bowing to the inevitable, I sallied forth, bought the damn book and a tanker car full of milk and cream, and headed for the kitchen. That was Sunday.

This was Tuesday.

Left to right: Pomegranate with grated dark chocolate and Grand Marnier; Limone; Chocolate Hazelnut (I mean, Cioccolato Nocciola) and Chocolate Raspberry.

The Pomegranate is absolutely killer! Coincidentally, it needs pomegranate molasses, which Just Happened To Be in an amazing gift basket of Moroccan food ingredients (for a trip in fall 2011, which will likely be more blog fodder).

You would think (but you would be wrong) that I stopped there. Friends were coming for dinner Wednesday, and that required a special seasonal Gelato. I make a mincemeat-like boozy fruit compote that is great on ice cream. I had to find out if it was just as great IN ice cream. Adding a cup or so of the compote with a good slug of Kahlua and an indecent drizzle of Dulce de Leche caramel sauce, I came up with a pretty damn amazing Gelato...

Fortunately, one of my souvenirs of Italy was a gelato spoon!

I think I am going to call this one... Doom. And it likely will give my ass 87% more fullness.

Ciao.

Full Circle in Venice... and in Italy

There's a tasty little epilogue, of course.

After tasting gelato from Rome to Venice, I'm surprised to say that I have found a clear winner here in Venice. The store doesn't look like a Gelateria from the outside (no picture - head smack!) but more like a laboratory. I don't even think there is a sign. It is located beside the McDonald's I saw on my way in - the only one in Venice, so not hard to find.

They are called GROM, and use organic ingredients with no artificial colours or flavours. This is their menu board.



























I tried their limone yesterday and it was amazing - a massive punch of lemon taste, great light texture, and just the right balance of sugar. There was no artificial aftertaste. Angels wept, then beat each other over the head for a spoon. Then wept some more.




















They have to stir around in the pots to get the gelato into the right consistency to scoop. It's quite the process to watch.

Tonight I went with a new favourite to see how it compared to other places. Chocolate and hazelnut. It was... moan.... really.... nomnomnomnomnom!!!!



























The truest hazelnut taste ever. Not very sweet at all. Great chocolate flavour. And I leave in the morning before they open. So... this was the last gelato. And the hands-down winner!

As if you need another reason to come to Venice!

Stinky Feet

Yes, more than usual. Thank you, Peanut Gallery.

But that happened today, and I have to tell you about yesterday's snooping before explaining my unusually stinky feet.

It involved a walk, of course, and the things found en route.

There are many reasons to love Italy. Chocolate meat is just one of them.





















I decided to explore a bit on the other side of the Grand Canal. This waterway basically splits Venice lengthwise, and there are only 4 bridges that cross it. Getting to the other side can be an issue if you aren't near a bridge. I decided to take a shortcut common to the locals, called a Traghetto. It's essentially a stripped-down gondola that crosses the canal at several strategic points. Why pay 60 euros or more for a gondola ride when you can make use of one of these for 50 cents?














































Awww.... isn't this sweet?




















Most. Romantic. Bridge. Ever.

























I made my way, by various tiny twisting lanes and bridges, to Piazza San Polo. Which is pretty barren and covered in large part by scaffolding and construction drapes. Much of the rest appears shuttered and abandoned. Still, there was a kiosk selling t-shirts, another selling post cards, and 2 small cafes. For $2.50 euro, I was allowed to sit with a bottle of water.





















The postcard kiosks also sell an assortment of Venice calendars. I've had my eye on one (yes, Lynda, I have!) that features Gondoliers. They look a bit shifty. But it would be payback for a few Firemen calendars I've been taunted with over the years! (The firemen are more easily given to asbestos pants with suspenders and no shirts, but it's pretty hard for Gondoliers to peel off. Or look buff - sorry Lynda!)


























So. Today. I ended up at San Marco, which was a surprise because I had no plans to go back.

It finally gave me a chance to snap a picture of the Bridge of Sighs. Another romantic legend shot down in flames. It isn't a place for lovers, it is a place for criminals! The bridge, linking the Doge's Palace with a prison, was the place where the convicted could look back for one last image of Venice before being locked up in squalor - and sigh. It's also covered in plastic sheeting and scaffolding. Can you see it? That bit of stone? Yep - that's it. Imagine the thrill of seeing that in person!





















Here's where the feet get stinky.

See that really nice reflecting pond they built overnight in front of the Basillica?




















Yeah... that's not so much a reflecting pond as it is a flood.

I got to San Marco by a kinda long route. Via Murano, the island of wretched glass.

It was the BEST TIME EVER !!!!

I'm a water baby from way back, and the possibility of a boat ride for me is comparable to the offer of a car ride to a dog.

The deal is, a 'free' water taxi takes you from your hotel to a glass factory on Murano. All you have to do is pay for your Vaporetto ride back. Some people bleat that the trip back isn't also free, but Shut Up!

This, baby, is a RIDE!!!!!

All teak and burled walnut and cedar and brass hardware and Italian driver Oh Baby!!!

There is a covered seating area for about 12 people mid-ship, and a small open section at the rear that can be covered by a sliding wood roof in the rain or spray. Two young Brit women huddled inside. I stood at the back with the wind blowing and spray flying, hair in my mouth, just riding the swells from passing boats and having the time of my life!

Then we landed. I had hardly finished my cigarette when I was dragged spluttering into the glass factory.

OK - this place was over the top. And - I shit you not - after my comment yesterday about Picasso's Inukshuk ... they had a whole room upstairs that was devoted to an homage to Picasso.

A. Whole. Room.

I couldn't take pictures of the most egregious stuff. But you get the idea.

Oh, I found out where they get the balloons to make the balloon animal sculptures.

At different times in history, philosophers have asked, just because Man can do something, should Man do it? Usually these deep questions relate to things like bombs or genetic engineering, but I think the first philosopher to ask that question was likely a tourist in Murano 800 years ago.

Just a theory.

So I escaped screaming from the showroom (with a lovely Christmas ornament for Tommy's mom... I feel soooo dirty) and took the long Vaporetto trip back to San Marco. It was a great ride.

I am pretty sure this is the island of Cimitero, where they have the cemetary for Venice.

So it makes all kinds of sense that this is the one place with a lot of trees. Because they can really appreciate them...

... and landed in San Marco to this.

Now, San Marco is usually packed. Wall to wall to wall. Try cramming all those people onto little raised walkways 3 feet wide and see how quickly movement can come to a complete halt. You can stand there forever or until you are pushed off or...

... take off your shoes and get on with it.

I chose Get On With It.

And have Stinky Feet.

You have to read the tour books pretty closely to find out that Venice floods about 1oo times per year, mostly in the winter. The locals all have Wellies and Get On With It. I noticed a few places yesterday where water was really close to doors of homes, most of which are at grade, and relized how hard it must be to live here full time.

(I know this is sideways but it's easier for you to tilt your computer than for me to edit this blog.)



















Note the water being splashed up very close to the door as the boats pass by.

This kid was on his way to school,wearing Wellies, carrying shoes.

Sometimes you can find steps leading to boat docking points that are dry enough to sit at, but mostly they are close to the water and wet from the waves.

So I squelched my way back to the hotel.

This whole day wasn't planned - I was kinda Veniced Out. Anyway, I did need some down time, so after getting back, I took a book and decided to check out the terrace on roof off the 4th floor.

I'm glad I didn't miss this!

Just as I was thinking, yeah, it's nice, but you can't barbeque, someone across the canal lit one up! These little hidden terraces are wonderful!

So. I'm nearly outof Euros and will be in London this time tomorrow. Here's to a last afternoon in Italy.

Um...

Anyone have a corkscrew?

Thanks for coming along. Ciao!

What Venice Doesn't Have

What Venice doesn't have is...

Cats. They wouldn't want to get their dainty little paws wet.

Canoes. And I want one! Maybe that's my retirement destiny - giving canoe rides in Venice. 'Course, they'd have to change a few of the postcards. And I'm not gonna wear any of those Goldolier outfits - horizontal stripes just aren't 'me'.

Anywhere to sit. For free, I mean. Even to pee at one of the mercifully frequent WCs costs 1.50 euros, just over $2 Cdn. Forget a picnic!




















You don't have to be in Venice long before you find out that sitting in Venice is a largely commercial endeavour. And that you should always carry coins in your pocket.

You can BUY a drink, or a meal, and thereby a seat. But you can't just park yourself anywhere.

Oh, there are a few exceptions. There is a lovely public square around the corner from my hotel, with a few trees - very rare here - and benches. I wandered over yesterday morning, pulled out a book and read for a few minutes in the sun.




















But it soon became apparent that this is also one of the few places where the elderly residents can sit. In good conscience, I couldn't stay there long, because there are few enough places where they can just relax and enjoy their home away from the fray of tourists and commercialism.

So I moved along. I decided to pack the map away and just take a wander on the road less travelled, away from the Rialto and San Marco, and see where I ended up.

During the day, this is the only other place where I found I could sit for a while. I felt like I'd found the Holy Grail - trees, benches, shade and a view of the Grand Canal!




















And I don't have a clue where it was!

There are so few trees here that I have noticed the dogs don't know what to do with them. So they ignore them. And squat anywhere. Poor, stupid dogs.

I have lots of pictures, and will take you along with me on my wander, but first we have to take a few minutes to make fun of Murano glass.

Have you seen this stuff? Venice is lousy with it - likely because the island of Murano is just a field kick off shore.

It's that hand-blown, multi-coloured stuff that looks like somewhere, somehow, a glassblower mated feverishly with Dali on acid. It keeps me from getting married, frankly. Some ass would use it as an excuse to give me Murano glass.

Now, some of the stuff isn't bad. They make some nice beads, and some pendants that are mosaics that resemble stained glass windows. Nice. Small. Understated. I have some and like it.

But they couldn't stop there.

You name it - they have made it out of glass in Murano. They have run out of things to replicate, and have resorted to making balloon animals out of glass.

Some of the other delights on offer?

Any takers for a glass dentist, truimpht after an extraction?

How about Picasso's Inukshuk (non-Canucks will have to Google).

Now I feel better!

Speaking of beautiful objets, Miss Karen, I keep finding footwear for you! These may work during the renovations! And they're from Timberland, so you may find them at the mall!

Enough! Let's go on a walk!

Venice is a place where Nobody Knows Your Name. It's not Cheers, it's Harry's Bar, and with the celebs that have shown up here since Papa Hemingway, they don't know or care who you or I are.

Harry's Bar is located near San Marco, in a small tangle of streets full of "Chi Chi, Pooh Pooh" stores like Chanel (who are ridiculous!), Botega Veneta, Pucci and the like. They sell silly things in stores too pretentious to actually have any merchandise, and which are empty of everything except angry, emaciated sales professionals. They sell stacked stilleto shoes in a town - hell, Country - where you don't dare walk in anything except track shoes. I mock your stores, your merchandise and your sad, sheepish customers! Mock!

The thing about Venice is there aren't a lot of horses. Likely never were. So the tie-downs aren't on the walls, they are on the sidwalk, and they are for boats.

(Note to self: watch carefully when backing up to focus a shot - you may get wet.)

Still finding that doors, arches and hardware catch my eye, I can't help taking these.

Venice is filled with literally thousands of stores, kiosks, carts and street merchants trying to get your money. They sell only a few things, and you see them over and over and over again. They are: purses, scarves, Murano glass, postcards and calendars, snacks, and masks.

This is one of the more fabulous masks, and Miss K, come get your own damn mask, I'm not bringing it carry-on!

A walk in Venice takes you to strange places. To my grateful surprise, this one was a bridge.

Venice has yard sales. Who knew? Who knew they have yards?

Pretty much the same crap we have, too. (No Venetian copper - I checked.)

Dead ends abound here - either in water, houses or hotels. You just have to backtrack.

The occasional courtyard is a surprise.

No, it's not the camera. This place really does look like it's falling over. Very. Slowly.

This one is pretty typical.

This one... all deliveries at rear, please.

Every walk eventually ends at the Rialto or San Marco. Here, we're back at the Rialto. Those looking closely will notice that I have sucked out and hopped on a Vaporetto. This is a view from the water.

Venice is great on foot but really needs to be seen from the water for maximum 'wow'!

This place lives or dies by the canals. Nothing happens without them. There are no motorized vehicles at all. Here, someone is getting a new washer /dryer.

These are the wheeled garbage carts that are more visible in the residential areas. People walk there garbage here...

... and a scow with a hoist collects it.

Maybe it's because I'm here alone, but the romance of Venice has been somewhat washed away, in no small part because of the grafitti and commericalism, and I'm now getting very interested in the logistics. I haven't seen a storm sewer (I guess they just let it flood), fire hydrants or fire department. I don't know how it works... but it works.

And it's still pretty gorgeous!