Gratitude Friday: The (Unforgiving) Salvation of the Pottery Wheel

The pottery wheel. Quietly whirling, always centered. Once you are pulled in by its magic, it is hard to let it go. There is no end to the lessons of the wheel. As soon as you think you have mastered it, it humbles you. As soon as you are humble, it lets you make something breathtaking.

People are always amazed how very difficult it is to throw a pot. It's difficult. It's even more difficult to throw a good one, or to throw ten that somewhat look like each other.

Becoming a master can take a lifetime.

But still, you try.

If you are working on the wheel, and you forget to focus, even for a minute, the clay goes off center.

Ka-plunk.

Ka-plunk.

The wheel demands, over and over, that you stay in the moment. Focused. Centered. It will not forgive you if you forget this. It will make you pay.

With a big pile of wet clay that you have to rework.

The wheel is my tool for finding my center. It's been that way for years now. If I work at the wheel, I forget everything. I only see clay gliding smoothly under my wet fingers. I only feel the moment. I only imagine getting as much clay as possible off the wheel and up into the air. To form a new pot. A new bowl. A new plate. A new rice bowl. A new vase.

A new me.

The wheel is all about

balance.

Dinner 3.11.09 Ceviche and Ginger Scallion Noodles

We were both craving a healthy dinner last night, and by Giorgio, we got one. I started with ceviche, the creation of which was inspired by Jamie Oliver's recent series about his road trip around America and his obsession with the culturally interesting dishes he found there. The series was fantastic - showed my country from its heart and soul and highlighted the ethnic diversity, the survival mentality and the unbelievable flavors -- of both food and life -- which can be found there.

He found ceviche being made in an illegal restaurant in Queens, New York where South American immigrants could affordably get the flavors of home in someone's living room. For our ceviche last night, I used Vietnamese Pangasius (I know, I know, I live an hour from the Med, but it was the best looking white fish I could find at 4 pm last evening in a grocery store) which is in the cat fish family, the juice of three lemons and three limes, a good tablespoon of course salt, a peperoncino, thinly sliced red onions and a handful of parsley (I have decided to proceed with recipes calling for cilantro even if I don't have any on hand since I only grow it intermittently, and substitute boring flat leaf parsley instead of crying in my ceviche).

I marinated chunks of the fish, the onions and a halved peperoncino in the salt and citrus juices for about 30 min. I drained it out to serve it and topped it off with the parsely. Done. The verdict? I will be making it again. Soon.

For our main course I opted for the great Amateur Gourmet's Ginger Scallion Noodles. I did not make the cured cucumbers, since they are not in season right now. It's a great recipe, and I suggest you go over and take a look at it. The big surprise was how delicious the skillet browned cauliflower tasted; really made the dish special. It is a great left over dish as well, since the buckwheat noodles hold their form in the fridge.

Very healthy and very tasty!

Season Close: Degustazione di Barolo

As our season closes, I found it wholly appropriate that our lovely German guests requested a degustazione di Barolo, which was held last evening. My husband chose three small wineries and three different years, from 2005 (which was released this year) going to 2003, and then finally a 2000, to experience the rounding of flavors and softening of tanins which takes place over time.

We specialize in wine tours and tastings from vineyards which are considered small production; under 120,000 bottles, and in most cases, under 80,000. The owner is always personally involved every aspect of the wine, from picking to bottling. We know these people and count them among our friends. Our personal passion for the wines of the Monferrato and the Langhe makes for a highly intimate experience and a real connection with a very special product.

I served four different cheeses with the wine -- a pure goat robbiola, moderately aged, a slightly longer aged sheep/cow robbiola, a relatively fresh Sardinian peccorino and a slice of Fontina from Val d'Aosta. To that there were grissini, hand made in a small factory here in Acqui Terme.

A lovely way for us to say goodbye to the 2009 bed and breakfast season.

Baur B&B Interviewed on My Bella Vita

The lovely Cherrye (pictured here with her husband Peppe) who writes the blog My Bella Vita and owns the Il Cedro B&B in beautiful Calabria, interviewed me for her series on expats doing business in Italy series. You can read the interview here, and check out Il Cedro B&B on my blogroll under Professional Women in the Italian Travel Business section.

Grazie mille, Cherrye!

Gratitude Friday: The Permesso

The last guests arrived yesterday. They will be with us for five nights, and then the season for us will close.However, no rest for the wicked! We have a pre-construction tomorrow meeting for the renovation which will start in a couple of weeks - the project we wanted to do last spring but for which we could not get the permission in time.

With a little luck and a prayer, we will be taking the roof off of this structure, rotating it 90 degrees and putting it back on. In order to do that, we need to build the walls. Once the walls are built and the roof is on, we can take a bit of a break, but we need to take advantage of (hopefully) the decent weather and get that baby on there. So I was very grateful today when I went to the Commune with our project engineer and they verbally green lighted the new roof. Just in time, I would say. It might seem like a little thing, but we have been working on it since last winter. Don't try rotating a roof design in this country. It can be hazardous to your health.

Jumping from the fire (the season) into the frying pan (renovation) then back into the fire (next season) has been an act we have been playing for five years now. If you asked me this minute what I want to do right now, I would say I WANNA LAY ON THE BEACH. but then again, maybe I don't. As tough and challenging as this lifestyle can be, I don't forget for a minute that I am blessed to be living it.

Liz Kinder Pottery

I have to admit, it takes a pretty awesome potter to impress me these days. The other day, I was on the Philadelphia Restaurateur Marc Vetri's Osteria sight looking at gift cards. In the "Gift" section of the website were some pretty cool bowls. I liked them; I thought they had a personality. So I clicked through to the artist's website and found Liz Kinder.

Using a variety of glazing and decorating techniques, Liz produces stoneware and earthenware which is at once interesting and lively. I find it so interesting and inspiring to see that someone is doing this kind of work. She is a production potter with lots of places nationally to buy her things. Go visit her website and check out all of her creations.

E' Così

This is a country which can thrill and delight. It is also a country which can frustrate, aggravate, and test one's patience to the point where a small thing, a very small thing, can throw a person (usually with a non-Italian passport) into a philosophical tailspin that always ends with the same words.

E' così.

That's the way it is.

Take this morning. To understand what actually happened this morning, one has to go back about two weeks ago, when I called our pool people to make an appointment, two weeks in advance, to close our pool. Two weeks in advance. I wanted to give myself and them sufficient time to arrange things. This was my first mistake. I was thinking like a person who lives, maybe, in Connecticut or New York and not on a hill in Italy. When, oh, when will I learn?

The lady at the pool company said va bene. I will get the guys to call and confirm. Ci vediamo allora. She is a very nice lady.

No one called, and as the date drew near, I thought to call them, but could not catch anyone in the office. This is their busy time, and often the nice lady goes out on pool closures with one of the teams.

Then, on Friday, before the Saturday of the appointment, I got a call. Saturday was ok, said the nice lady, but Monday, Tuesday, or Wednesday would be better. I knew from her tone that Saturday was not going to work out at all. Va bene, I said, but felt my molars grinding and a sharp pain go thru my jaw. It was my inner Type A girl screaming to get out and kill someone. I had called two weeks in advance. Why could they not just do what they have had on the schedule for two weeks? Calmati, I thought, calm yourself down. It's just the way it is. Sure, we have been clients for what, five years now? These are the people who built our pool. We have been writing check after check to them forever.

Calmati, I thought again.

I still had no clue which day they would be coming: Monday, Tuesday or Wednesday. Apparently this is not usually a problem in the countryside in Italy. Apparently there is always a nonna or a zia at home to let people to do work in on normal work days without any advanced warning whatsoever. I thought this, but I didn't really believe it. How is this supposed to work?

This morning, I woke up with a full blown head and chest cold. I was so ugly that the mirror almost cracked in the bathroom when I passed it. I had just inhaled my homeopathic herbs which don't really work when the phone rang.

It was the nice pool lady. Do you want us to come this morning or this afternoon?

Just my luck. I did not want to tell her I DON'T WANT YOU TO COME AT ALL because it might mean another two weeks just like the last two weeks. For God's sake, I wanted to get the thing closed before the first snow fall. I looked at Micha, who was not looking all that healthy himself and coughed into the phone, questo pommerigio, per favore. This afternoon, please.

This would give me a few sweaty, pain filled minutes outside to clear the lawn chairs and umbrellas out of the way, pass out and then take a shower before the pool dudes arrived after lunch, presumably around three.

The phone rang again about three minutes later. It was the nice lady again.

They're going to be there in ten minutes.

I thought my head was going to explode all over the living room walls.

I'm sorry, there was no excusing the nice pool lady, the pool dudes, or Italian society as a whole at that precise moment. I let out a mucus-filled groan and asked "e perchè?" WHY?

But I knew the answer before it came out of her mouth.

E' così, she said.

I dove into the shower, threw foundation on my face, and got outside to move the furniture. Micha was not far behind. Expletives were flying. Why do we let these people do this to us? Will we ever be able to control our lives? Our time? EVER?

A few minutes later, the pool dudes drove up, big smiles on their faces, and with a great deal of good cheer, closed our pool. They were so nice that we could not be grouchy. They never would have understood why. We gave them two bottles of house wine like we do every year, they thanked us profusely and drove away about an hour ago.

So the pool is closed for another season, but not without going through the full gamut of emotions usually saved for a much more significant event. Or a crisis. I gotta exorcize my inner Type A girl and deport her. The rest of me is really happy with the wine and the food and the scenery and the big smiles of the pool dudes. It's complicated sometimes, living in this country. Why?

Come on. You know the answer by now.