Eat Drink and Be Merry

For Tomorrow we may Diet.

Last weekend, my class ventured up into the countryside to visit an Agriturismo- which is basically a bed and breakfast, except that the food is PHENOMENAL. The Italian government sponsors these “traditional-esque” countryside resorts by giving them up to 70% of renovation/ upkeep costs as long as they follow certain regulations- namely, that 70% of all food served at the B&B be grown/produced on the premises.

This is the definition of local.

All the vegetables are grown on site, all the torts and breads are homemade, even the wine, cheese and olive oil are processed just kilometers away from la casa.

Although the premise of this trip was to go truffle hunting and olive picking, learning about the historical and modern context of these processes, it was really just an excuse to eat. All day long.

Yes the views were stunning. Yes it was supacool to watch the dog sniff up truffles (even tho she was terrified of us and would have recieved an F in class participation) and OF COURSE i soaked up the sun while sitting uptop an olive tree (you know shawty can’t reach those branches from the ground) – but the most memorable part was the food…. so much food.

I was trying to tell my friend everything we ate.. and was semi-unsuccessful, but let me have another go at it. Even if the list is inconclusive, it is still astounding.

Upon arrival we ate a… small farmer’s breakfast? On the table…

  • freshly toasted tuscan bread with the olio d’nuovo
  • 3 torta: one chocolate, one “traditional Umbrain,” and one with “frutta mista” (aka fresh fruit jam)
  • And drinks of all varitey: Juices, aqua (Naturale e frizzante), and vino bianco (yup they even drink the stuff in da morinin. It’s Five o’Clock somewhere? Nope, but it sure is 10 am.)

After trying a small bite of each (I wasn’t hungry given that I had eaten a peice of toast and a banana in the morning… worried that I wouldn’t get fed immediately and end up being hungryandgrumpy) I thought I was done. NOPE. The lesson was learned early on that if ever you think you are finsihed, you are obviously WRONG.

The cute host lady then brought out fresh pizza. 2 kinds mind you- one tomato, and one with artichokes and mushroom. Nomnom.

Then she brought out more warm bread with olive oil. You just can’t resist that stuff. I dare ya to try.

And then, to pass the time I suppose, she brought out tiny pieces of torte with chestnuts and jam.

And then you know you gotta get that caffe.

So, after our small snack. we trecked outside to frolic in the olive groves and such. Only to return for lunch a few hours dopo…

Lunchtime?. I don’t think you can call it that. More like feastime…

Antipasti (literally means before pasta)

  • Pecorino cheese with onion jam (delicious) and fig preserves
  • Grilled onions with olive oil
  • Roasted tomatoes
  • Torta filled with eggplant, peppers, and cheese
  • Tora with prosciutto and cheese
  • Torta with ricotta and onion
  • Pecorino cheese con Tarfuto (with truffles)

Primi (Il Primo Primi?)

  • Zuppa (soup) with beans and little square pasta noodles. Top it with fresh parmesean and a little peice of bread.

Primi (Il secondo primi… non lo so)

  • FRESH PASTA. I still will never get used to the superb taste of homemade pasta. I just don’t think it can be called the same thing as that narsty stuff you dump out of a box. The little swirls of pasta were topped with a delicious ragu sauce of tomatoes.. and pigeon.

Secondo

  • Secondo is always meattime. First, a huge dutch oven thing was brought out filled with roasted pigeon. Suprisingly delicious.. but watchout for them bones. I really don’t like those a whole lot. Then she brough out another eaqually huge dish of the biggest combobulation of  meats immaginable- sausages, ribs, grilled cheek (?) and breastmeat- all from a pig I presume. I won’t pretend that I was able to conquer this. I literally had one bite of a rib. I was really quite worried about spontaneous combustion at this point… and my time in Italy has made me increasingly trepid when it comes to meat. There’s just so much…
  • There were also platters of various roasted veggies- eggplant, red and yellow peppers- as well as a plate of spinach, and a lettuc-y salad. Note: Italian salads are the furthest thing from exciting. Literally just lettuce drizzled with olive oil. Only the really adventurous add that balsamic.

Of course, this all took place over a mere 3 hour time span, but we were constantly drinking that red wine for the sole purpose of getting to the point where we could drunkeat and not think about how uncomfortable our stomachs were. This is NOT italian at all… ma dispiace, sono Americana e mi piace mangiare.

And THEN just when you think that there’snowayinhellthatyoucaneatanotherbite, they bring out dessert.

I think the theme was ChestnutsGalore

  • little pieces of chetnut cake (chestnut flour is somewhat chewy and dense… but in my opnion not unpleasant. Back in the day when Mussolini declared War on Wheat in Italy, many poor italians turned to using chestut flour instead.)
  • Little chocolate chestnut truffles
  • Panna cotta. Topped with chestnuts
  • Sweet dessert wine. Tasted like syrup. Couldn’t do it.
  • Zuppa Inglese.(English Soup) This is neither soup NOR English- go figure, but it is similar to tiramisu in it’s creamy/ cake-like consistency. This one was especially good in that it lacked the “radio-active” orange hue that most of them don.
  • And of course- caffee. (and just in case you didn’t get enough chestuts- there were freshly roasted ones to go with)

I can’t remember the last time I’ve eaten this much, and for so long. Felt a little sick to the tummy the rest of the day :/ Needles to say, I went without dinner that night….

But was ready to go the next day.

Lord knows my days in this country are limited. There is No Time for Whimps. Get your eat on.

HO MANGIATO BENE.

Is this real life???

So get this.

Last week Pappa Lehrmann headed on up to Italia.

Needless to say- It was FaBuLoUs. He kept up (‘cept for them hills. He made it very clear that I identify the location of the nearest hospital)

He went out and bopped around and hung with the guys and made best friends with erybody. Literally. 

But thank god he did, or else we would never have had such grand adventures.

Picture this: Rolling hills of Tuscany, driving through a vinyard in a lil’ mercedes, sampling the vino nuovo (first pressed wine), and the owner’s son giving you and your dad and your friend three bottles of wine each…

… all in between class. nbd.

Yeah that happened. Notreal.

But I guess that’s what you get when your dad has no shame and meets everyone at bars and when he finds out that one of the guys we’re hangin’ out with owns the only vinyard in Perugia- he has no problem askin’ if it’s ok if we skip on over for a bit.

 

BEST DAY EVER.

Just look at this—

 

I would be jealous if I were you. Sorry bout it.

We leaned about wine and how the grapes are grown.

(Fun fact they sell most of their Pinot Grigiot grapes to the US. Which goes into the bottles of Luna di Luna

 

Dad was really excited about the machinery. He and Fillipo talked buisness. Dad’s gonna write off of all of Italy as a buisness expense now… bahah. He took lotsa pictures.

 

SCREW CONVEYERS. really cool stuff guys. This is where they dump the red grapes and they get moved down this guy to go get smooshed into vinoooo

 

Here’s us with the machinery…. cutes.

 

And here’s dad… gettin’ at it. Fill ‘er up.

 

… and for your viewing pleasure…

 

Gotta love those selfies.

 

All in all- it was a great weekend.

Lurv ya dad 🙂

 

Turns out that..

.. I’m rul bad at keeping up a blog whilst in Italy. Sorryimnotsorry. Also turns out that you learn a lot while skipping around the globe over fall break (2 weeks ago) Here’s some genuine nuggets.

Turns out that… you look rul good after sleeping in airports. OhYeah.

Turns out that… tapas is by far the best way to eat. And bar hop.

Turns out that… Barcelonians speak in some strange Catalan language. So much for my five useless years of espanol.

Turns out that… flamenco is damnsexy

Turns out that… traveling with five other people can be kinda tricky. Talk about compromise…

Turns out that.. you smell wonderful when living out of a backpack

Turns out that… i am obsessed with vintage shops. hey-yo 20 E leather jacket.

Turns out that… 20 euro leather jackets are probably ripping at the seams. And you can’t return them.

Turns out that.. you get what you pay for. Don´t expect too much from Free Dinner at the hostel. And when you realize the disappointment- please don’t cry. You’re in public.

Turns out that… the spaniards enjoy loading the middle of muffins with chocolate frosting.

Turns out that… I’ve missed muffins.

Turns out that… language barriers are real things. If you´re craving fresh melon- make sure it´s not fresh pumpkin. You will be confused.

Turns out that… overnight buses with broken bathrooms are badnewsbears for those who suffer from TTBS (teenytinybladdersyndrome)

Turns out that… Gaudi is either a madman. Or a friggin genius. Either way I wish I was as cool as him.

Turns out that… Barcelona never stops partying. Except on Wednesdays? Obvi the only night we tried.

Turns out that… THETAS RULE. we be all over the world- cinque terre, firenze, barcelona…

Turns out that… sono italiana. Italian has become my default for Idon’tknowwhatsgoingonorhowtocommunicatewithpeople

Turns out that… Spain is Purtycool.

… and so is Prague

Turns out that… I wish I was a hipster who lives in Prague and plays jazz at smoky underground bars and paints blobs (modernartduh) on the side and eats goulash for every meal.

Turns out that… FRIED CHEESE SANDWICHES ARE REAL LIFE. and the best food you could possibly imagine at 2 am.

Turns out that… you should never make rash decisions and not tell the rest of your group that you changed your mind. You will hurt peoples feelings as well as your own and miss a cool medieval meal (here come those tears again).

Turns out that… traveling is hard.

Turns out that… Perugia never felt more like home. Pizza Margharita? Gelato con panna? Un cappucino per favore? People speaking a language I semiunderstand?!  yesplease

AH PERUGIA.

HO MANGIATO BENE

 

Don’tDoThat

My time in Italy has taught me many life lessons. Pretty please take my advice and DON’T:

*Pretend that CIAO BELLA is an appropriate response to every situation. As fun as it is, it just ain’t. You will annoy tutti dei tui amici

*Leave your wallet sitting on the steps. It’s possible that you may be thinking DUHOBVIOUSLYWHOWOULDBESTUPIDENOUGHTODOTHAT but ya know these things happen…or mabs that’s just me. If you find yourself in this situation, thank the good lord baby jesus that you are not in Florence or Rome- You are in itsy Perugia- and you have friggin astounding stupid dumb luck and no one took off with your life- credit cards, passport, money- tutti, and it was still chillin on the steps three hours after you realized that it was missing.

*Buy a train ticket from Rome to Perugia by yourself. Without knowing what you’re doing. You will probably end up on a train that doesn’t go to Perugia on the weekends (yes that’s possible) so you’ll be forced to sit alone in a dark deserted train station dining on pistachios and beer for dinner as you wait for yet another train that will take you to different train station where you can catch a train that will hopefully get you home this time. It will be late. You will be grumpy. Perhaps a smidge concerned for your life.

*Attempt to flee from Creepy Italian Men by shouting that you and your friend SIAMO LESBIANCHE. Doesn’t work. You will find yourself with otherproblems.

*Attempt to flee from Creepy Italian Men dancing in da club by jumping off your ledge to the next. Mini skirts and tiny feet flying thru the air aren’t cute. Neither are smooshed skulls. However, if you break the fall with your leg, you will walk away with only a nice bruise and a ripped shoe. (good thing I rock the barefoot thang)

 

*Try to make Tiramisu without having all the ingredients ready ta go. You will encounter problems.

 

*Search for powdered sugar during la pausa- when everything’s closed- without even knowing what’s it’s called in Italian. You won’t find it.

 

*Burn the plastic handle off of the mini moka maker trying to make the café for the filling. Your kitchen will reek.

 

*Sprint into il bar across the street with a giant metal cup and frantically tell the baristo that you need molto café per fare il tiramisu and expect him to think you are normal. Nope. You will get flustered, you will make a fool of yourself, and he will think you are weird. However, he will love you the next day when you bring him some of your resulting sloppy mess in attempt to say thanks. Or at least it will give him a good chuckle.

 

*Blindly jump on the travel bandwagon. Especially if you already know that traveling and such situations mega stress you oooouuuuuuttttt. You will find yourself trapped in an uber aggressive fall break agenda involving three countries, four cities, and a couple(ish) people who arereallyawkardandmightdriveyoucrazyifyouhavetospendawholeweekwiththem.

 

*Think that you are supacool cause you got a job in a bar in italy. You won’t have any kind of contract so chances are that it’s not real and one of the bar owner is a scheezeball and you will never want to see him again.

 

*Spend all your money on organic cheeses.

 

*Absinthe. Just cause it’s legal doesn’t mean you should.

 

#Don’tdothat.

 

(This list is not comprehensive, and I shall probably continue it as I think of more things I need to remind myself not to do.)

 

HO MANGIATO BENE.

When In Rome

I don’t know what people are talking about when they say that Rome is narsty.

That the monuments are the only kewl thing, but the city itself is gross.

WRONG

I loved Rome.

You know that movie.. the Lizzy Mcguire one… whatsitcalled- The Lizzy McGuire Movie?

Yeah das da one

I wish that was ma life.

But if you go to Rome and don’t find true love or become an international pop star, don’t fret. You can still have fun.

When in Rome…

There are some things you should do.

The most obvious- THE COLOSEO. dur. its friggin colossal.

Marvel at the crumbly bits of ancient roman ruins left in the Roman Forum. I’d say there’s some pretty big pebbles.

Eat a trendy panino at Due Centro. This place warmed my heart and soul- the first place where consumer choice got some respect- you could choose from like 200 supafresh sandwich toppings (get it? due centro? clever). It was traditional italian deliciousness done like ‘merica. Gotta love all that blending cultural goodness.

 

Go visit the official Roman art museums and stare at really old Frescos. If you are like me- aka you have an insatiable desire to be artstyfartsy- you will have decided to take up a casual fresco painting class during your freetime on Monday afternoons. That way, when you’re looking at these guys, you can pretend to know what’s up and get some classic, straight-from-the-masters quality inspiration.

 

 *Just look at those lines- such good blending. The architectural focus here is superb. Ohyeah.

 

So. Emily, Lauren’s roommate from home, is studying in Rome for the semester and we had the marvellous fortune to stay with her for the evening. Get this. From her window, you can see St. Peter’s Basilica. THE POPE IS HER NEXT DOOR NEIGHBOR. Sometimes, life aint fair.

So obviously we went to the vatican museums (WHO decided to cram that much art into one place?!?! Cant handle it) and the Sistine chapel. It. Was. Unreal. Michelangelo is a LEGEND.

(Insert incredible picture here)

(oops. Can’t do dat. not allowed.)

(oops. didn’t know that- took one anyway)

Hmmm. I’ve got a couple strikes against me with this church business huh?

And whatdoyaknow? Across the street from Vatican city (other side than Emily’s appt- just gotta cross the country rul quick) is THE BEST GELATO EVER. I don’t kid about gelato- and this literally may have been my favorite so far. It’s called Old Bridge, which just doesn’t do it for me as far as sounding cool and authentic italian, but they give you SO MUCH GELATO for only one fifty euro PLUS they top it all off with delicious panna- whipped cream.

Just look at that beauty.

Now that they day is getting one, casually stroll through the adorable streets of Rome (onceagain- who said it was gross?!?! SO many cute shops) and visit the Parthenon just as the sun is setting. I swear you will never see it at a more gorgeous time. (Unless it’s raining. It would be purtycool to watch water pour through the hole at the top into this impressive chiesa)

(sry bout the bad quality- whatcha gonna do?)

For dinner, go to a lovely little place called Trattoria Degli Amici. Besides the fact that you dine under trendy yellow umbrellas and the Pasta all’amatricana is to DIE FOR (*food nerd pause- this is a “classic” roman dish consisting of a tomato sauce with slivers of guaranca- pork cheek- and pecorino cheese tossed over fresh homemade penne. DONE) this place has a really neat story. It is a part of the Friends association sponsored by the Pope. This Trattoria hires some of these mentally challenged “Amici” to give them work/ something to do-  they help out the waiters, pour the wine, bring menus, ect. Purty Cool.

 

Afterwards, you ABSOLUTELY MUST make your way to the Trevi Fountain. Now that it is nighttime, you can see it all lit up. Of course there will be a thousandandtwelve tourists mulling about – the most annoying- but it is imperative to shove/push/weasel your way thru to the edge to toss a coin in (over your left shoulder) and make your life’s biggest wish. It’s gotta be good since you’ve only got one shot. Word on da street – you are only allowed to make one wish here. Talk about a once in a lifetime opportunity.

Bellisimo.

Now after that long day of touring, sightseeing, and other such roman escapes- yousagonna need a drank. But keep it classy my friend, you are in Rome.

Perhaps you should sip on a this-

Lord knows what’s its called. We thought we were asking for sangria.. but there was definitely ginger ale and mint leaves goin on up in hur.

However I do know where you get it- At a wonderful place called Sloppy’s. (Classy in the front, Sloppy in the Back. Anyone else think that’s only the bar motto ever?)

Done and done.

UN BELLISIMO GIORNO!!

 

* note. this was not all done in one day- it was actually two- nor were these activities performed in this order. Don’t quote me on this travel itinerary. I’m not Rick Steves.

 

HO MANGIATO BENE

 

 

Tuesday Night in Perugia…

Tuesday is the wallflower of days.

It has no idenity, I’m so sad to say.

The weekned has faded, the next one’s still far.

… Or so you thought, till you look in a bar

Tuesday nights in Perugia- hold on to your seats.

The music is playing, you hear all the beats.

The people are out, they sip on the steps.

But us chicks keep it classy- different from the rest.

It’s a casual Tuesday, to the Opera we go

La Madamma Butterfly, we’ve gotten to know.

(From Wikipedia- print the plot out fa sho)

Cause the opera is sempre in italian-o.

We sit a box, look down at the stage.

Listen to the music, read the words on the page.

Understand nothing? It matters but none.

It’s feelin’ fancy that makes it great fun.

We all dressed up.

We lovin the stuff.

Tuesday nights in Perugia-

We can’t never get enough.

It all adds UP

Cinque Terre.

Five Towns.

(This is Vernazza. The others are equally awe-inspiring)

 

One stunning cemetary

 

 

((Cappucini? Sound familiar? Yeah so that wonderfully foamy only-before-noon italaina coffee delicacy was named after these monks. They wore brown robes (like cafe) with white hats (da foam). Funny. (Or at least I thought so))

One restaurant. With seven tables. 

(This rinky-dink little joint was set up in a mountain town with a population of  of- get this- 240. The tables were set up a fuori, overlooking the ocean below, and the two waiters had to run up and down the hill to and from the kitchen with the food. You can tell that our three courses of pesto pasta, freshly grilled lemon swordfish, and torta della cinque terre- wasn’t the mostdeliciousthingever. We didn’t lick our plates clean or anything)

One Longgggg Hike 

(Homeboy with the rainbow backpack was rul rude. He nearly pushed me off a cliff in order to get ahead of me. Like seriously dude? You got like twelve more miles no need to shove)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

(Not kidding. We started the dang thing at 10:30 am and didn’t finish up till nearly 5. We smelled so bad.)

One Giant Ocean.


Five Friends. 

Three Perfect Days. 

Ho Mangiato Bene!

Toga Party

Wowza. So it’s been a long time/ so much has happened/ im failing miserably at keeping this blog up ta date.

So first things first.

Last weekend we made the trek out to the wonderful world of the Almalfi coast.

I thought Perugia was pretty.

But then you add ocean and boats and old Roman ruins and then oofta you’ve hit the ball waaaaayyyyy out of my ballpark.

This region of southern Italy was the Paradise of the Greek and Roman empires (i still get these two confused but I think this applies to both). What with the abundance of luscious fruits (lemons are all over the dingdong place) and vegetation, and the killer seaside views, this was a mystical magical place of plenty in ancient times.

I wish I was a Roman. I would wear a breezy toga.* You would all be invited to my toga Party. Grand fun times for one and all.

(*Unfortunately I would probably not wear a toga. Men only wore their bedsheets as outfits on important state occasions like going out to vote and such. Women didn’t get to play at all. But hey this is imagination where allthingsarepossible)

So. I would live in Pompei. Pompei is purtycool. Like a couple thousand years ago Pompei was a bustlin Roman city- quite the place to be. But then on a bright and sunny day, circa lunchtime I believe, Mt. Vesuvius blew a fuse. Ash and lava and magma-y goodness squirted out the top of the volcano, and after a few miserable hours, completely submerged the city.

People forgot about it. Then they found it a thousand years later. Dug it out of the ashes, brought it back to life.

My house might look like this:

This would be the main living room. The skylight would provide natural lighting, the little indention would collect the extra rainwater.

This is my courtyard where I would hang out and drink molto vino with my toga pals

Doncha like my faun statue? He’s somekind of nymph who loves the sweet life.

I would strut around the center of town. In my toga. To go vote

And of course, I would work in the bakery. Toga Teagan bakes too.

Those weird round things were the flour mills. My slaves turned them with big wood sticks. And that square brick thing on the right is the large brick pizza oven. We didn’t make no margarita pizza ’cause Columbus hasn’t yet sailed the ocean blue, but our foccacia bread was pretty dank.

So were the muffins.

And on my weekends off, I would take a little boat to capri, and go play on the coast.

And, as the baker to the emperor, I would be invited to swim in the Blue Grotto with Emperor Tiberius himself. You literally have to lay flat in your tiny little boat to get inside this private royal swimming hole- and it’s amazing. The reflections of the sun makes the water glow the bluest blue you ever knew

Seriously cool. wah-uh-oh it’s magic. But actually if Horcruxes were real Voldemort definitely would have put one here.

I bet there’s mermaids. With togas.

So come one come all. Get ya toga on.

Ho Mangiato Bene

 

Epilogue

Unfortunately, my life would be cut miserably short by the torrential downpour of lava and ash and fire and such…

leaving me looking like this. Cute.

 

Home on the Range

This is gonna sound weird and uncalled for… but last night I felt homesick.

Well that’s not exactly the term I’m looking for – more like plummeting down from an unbeleivable high.

The first week was a rush of constant adrenaline. Everything was new and exciting and wonderful.

Of course everythig is still wonderful. How can it not be if I am in Italy? But now I have a routine. I know where I live. I know who my friends are. I know where my favorite gelato camps out when I’m not eating it.

Of course I couldn’t have expected things to always be newandexcitingandwonderful, I just didn’t expect it to hit me so abrubtly.

So last night I felt just a wee-bit down in the dumps, (and missing my friends at school and my family in the Lone Star State and my big comfy bed)-  so I obviously felt justified in treating myself a just little today.

Breakfast.

Un cappucino e un cornetto con ciocolatte. A pretty standard breakfast round these parts. And when I said that pastries here were wompy- I was obviously not thinking about these flaky criossants filled with nutella. I could eat these all day eryday.

There’s a little hole in the wall cafe (in Italy a cafe is called il bar, and if we’re being technical everything is “hole in the wall”) around the corner that’s frequented by the real legit Italian students at the Universita degli Straneri that Zach recommended. It reminds me of Austin- there’s a bunch of funky weird artwork on the orange and yellow colored walls and alternative sounding music blasting in the background. I wandered down there by myself after Italian class today to sit, do my homework, and listen to all the Italian chatter.

I understand approxamately zero percent of what people are actually saying- but I love picking up bits and peices. Which is rare. (Grazie? Buongiorno? Cappucino? Bello? Man I’ve got those downnnn)

Then I go back to school to go to class. But it turns out I don’t have class until five- cantreadscheudulesiwillfailintherealworld.

So after checking my email, posting some pictures, and finishing up some classwork, some friends and I decide to grab lunch.

There’s a little market right by school called Ciao Ciao’s, and the cutest old man in the whole wide world works there and we all love him. And his 2 euro giant caprese paninis (think massive amounts of mozzarella, tomato, and pesto-y goodness).

So Lunch.

A giant panini for each, a casual bottle of three euro white wine for all four of us.

It’s one o’clock in the afternoon. And this is perfectly acceptable. We spend an hour and a half outside, eating our lunch, talking to all the randos who walk by, and planning a trip to Prague for November.

Did I really say that I felt homesick?

I wonder whats for dinner….

Ho Mangiato Bene! 

(sorry I gots none pictures)