"Spring, spring is here, life is skittles and life is beer," sang Tom Lehrer (sp?) many years ago, going on to say his favorite activity was poisoning pigeons in the park (which was also the title of the song). To each his own; I much prefer talking long walks unencumbered by a heavy coat. But there's more to do in spring. Cherries will soon be arriving in the markets and it's time to put them to good use. Eating is one of the best, but it's not the only. You can store them in spirits for the winter:

• 1 2/3 pounds (700 g) ripe cherries -- ones that have a slight bitter tang to them will be best
• The zest of a half a lemon
• The weight of the cherries in sugar
• 3 cups (750 ml) dry white vermouth
• A 2-quart glass jar that seals hermetically

Stem half the cherries, and trim the stems of the other half close to the body of the fruit. Cut the zest into thin strips. Combine all the ingredients in the jar and put it where it is struck by the sun. Shake the jar once a day for a month, then put it in a cool dark place to age for at least six months. They'll be a wonderful addition to a winter meal.

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While we're on the subject of liqueurs, you can also make cherry liqueur, and don't forget that it'll soon be time to gather walnuts for making nocino, one of the finest ways to improve a cold winter night.

While we're still on the subject of fruit, you may not have realized that loquats, nespole in Italian, are quite common in the Peninsula, especially to the south, and have been for a very long time. On a recent episode of La Vecchia Fattoria, RAI TV's daily cooking & gardening show, they said that the best loquats are those with rusty red flecks on them -- the flecks come with exposure to sun and indicate sweetness.

In another episode, Dario, a butcher who express mails steaks all over the world from his shop in Panzano in Chianti (20 miles from Florence), gave the following recipe for grilled fresh pancetta (pork fat back, available from a well stocked butcher or an oriental market):

Procure a number of half-inch thick, 1.5-inch wide, 8-inch long slices of meaty (as opposed to fat) fresh, uncured pancetta

Dip them in good vinegar, turning them to coat all sides well.

Prepare a rub by grinding or blending red pepper, fennel seeds, and nipitella (a variety of thyme) in proportions to taste -- I'd go easy on the hot pepper; his mix was green. Rub the mixture into the meat and let it sit for a while. Then grill the meat either over coals or in a cast iron skillet for five minutes per side and serve.

The number of servings will depend upon the number of pieces you begin with.

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On Breakfast

Moving on to other things, I was recently asked what Italians eat for breakfast. Depends; when I was little and spent summers in the Tuscan countryside the farmhands who got up before dawn would have sandwiches with cold cuts (salami or prosciutto) washed down with wine. In the city, on the other hand, it was a bowl-sized mug of caffélatte (light tan, and sugared to taste) with thick slices of day-old Tuscan bread for dipping. Since then things have changed somewhat. If we have breakfast at home today, it's still often caffélatte, though a somewhat smaller amount (or an espresso), and rather than use day-old bread for dipping, it's more likely to be cookies of some sort. However, like many who live in Italian cities, Elisabetta and I are quite likely to have breakfast out, in a bar: a cappuccino and a pastry. It's an institution and most Italian bars have a considerable selection of freshly baked pastries, including cornetti (croissants) either empty or filled with cream or chocolate cream, sfoglie (in Florence these are clam-shaped pastries made with puff pastry dough folded over and filled with cream, rice and cream, chocolate, or whatever suits the chef's fancy -- in Naples the dough is different and the filling is often ricotta based) to budini di riso, rice puddings firm enough to be picked up and eaten. There are also small pizzas and sandwiches (known as tramezzini) for those who want to accompany their cappuccini with something salty.

There's no wet cereal as far as I know. Dry cereal is a different matter; there are many of the classic American kids' varieties (frosted flakes, rice crispies, cocoa crispies, and so on); our son likes them. There are also the "healthy" cereals such as Special K, which are touted as an excellent way to preserve or regain one's figure (good advertising in a country where almost everyone hits the beach in the summer). Because of the Italian custom of having breakfast out I doubt cereal will ever become as common as it is in the US but it is catching on. The other day I heard a DJ on the radio say that frosted flakes stirred into yogurt are "energizing." Undoubtedly true, but I don't know of anyone who has tried the combination.

On Substance

Winding down, not too long ago a person wrote asking for what she termed an oxymoron: Light Italian food. Wince on my part; while it is true that there are Italian dishes that would sink a dreadnought, at least as many would not. Part of the problem is that Italian cooking is quite seasonal; winter dishes are much heartier than summer ones because they were developed to keep winter's chill at bay. Though now this might seem unimportant, one has to remember that most Italian homes are made of stone, and until after World War Two few had central heating -- they got cold in the winter (even with central heating stone homes feel much colder than wooden ones given the same thermostat setting, and many homes in the South don't have central heat due to the mildness of the climate).

Another reason for heaviness is individual taste. Many older Italian recipes give only ingredients but not quantities, leaving them up to the cook. If the cook has a heavy hand then rising up from the table takes much more effort than it ought to. The key, as Artusi (who is often quite vague about quantities) says repeatedly throughout La Scienza in Cucina e l'Arte di Mangiar Bene (the first successful cookbook aimed at the middle class, written in 1891), is moderation. When a recipe calls for butter, go easy. Likewise with oil and other fats. Don't smother things with cream sauces or cheeses. And remember, portion sizes shouldn't be excessive. Even dishes that are commonly considered heavy, for example lasagna or eggplant Parmesan, are light if you limit yourself to a small serving. The standard Italian pasta serving today is 80 grams -- about 3 ounces -- with between a quarter and a third of a cup of sauce, while the standard second course is about a quarter pound of meat or fish, and a vegetable. Unless a person is of very slight build, this is not a lot, and it is also the main meal. Dinner is often considerably lighter and many skip it entirely.

Of course neither of these points answers the question of why many people (especially in Italian immigrant communities beyond the national borders) continue to cook heartily and provide vast quantities despite health advisories and such. I think the answer is partially cultural, and partially class related. Up until the 1950s hunger was widespread in Italy (both North and South); I've talked to many elderly farmers and trades people who told me they only ate meat once a week when they were growing up, and survived primarily on greens, bread and pasta. I've also heard stories about the rural poor of Piemonte who would hang an anchovy over the table so each diner could flavor his or her piece of polenta by rubbing it against the anchovy, which would last several meals. And contemporary descriptions of the diet of the urban and rural poor living a century ago are simply frightening. The upshot of this is that being overweight was a statement of wealth for the poor, many of whom left Italy during the period from 1870 to 1920 or so; as soon as the immigrants could afford to they cooked hearty, and this custom has been passed down to the more recent generations.

By way of contrast, the wealthy have never been overweight (at least in youth) -- in paintings and photographs from the past the aristocrats are almost all quite trim. Since they could afford to eat they had no reason to overindulge.

Moving to the present in Italy, it's interesting to note that the younger generations (born since 1945) have in large part discarded hearty foods; one generally encounters them only on special occasions and in restaurants specializing in traditional fare. The buzz word is to eat light; people under 45 are for the most part thin and the food magazines are full of light healthy things, especially during the summer months. During the winter? Then we do get stews, hearty pasta dishes, and rich soups. There's butter, there's cream, and there are carbohydrates, but there's also that word -- moderation -- repeated over and over.

Thanks for visiting, and have a wonderful day!
Kyle Phillips

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