By Richard Frisbie

Ready to eat?

The image that comes to mind when I hear “Boot Camp” does not include kitchen skills, especially when it’s prefaced with CIA. I think of sweaty bodies and abusive drill sergeants constantly shouting orders to do more push-ups. Naturally then, it was with some trepidation that I accepted an invitation to attend a CIA Boot Camp, even though they told me it was about food. (And they didn’t mean KP!)

Exterior shot of the CIA (Photo by Richard Frisbie.)

That’s how I recently found myself at the Culinary Institute, in full chef regalia, standing on the 6 a.m. breakfast line with 2,000 other students. It is a cafeteria cattle-call with a blackboard menu. I filed in, gave my order and waited, watching the class whose job it was to actually cook breakfast until my name was called. That’s what is great about the CIA. Students get real hands-on cooking experience in the student cafeteria and in each of the four public campus restaurants the CIA operates.

At dinner in the American Bounty Restaurant the evening before, students who were graduating the next day served our meal. Every aspect of food service, chemistry, and business, is a class each student must complete to graduate. That includes being waiters, bus boys, short-order cooks, sous chefs and chefs. If the professionalism and expertise I experienced at dinner are any indication, and I believe they are, the young men and women in the restaurant were ready to carry the mantle of the CIA into the culinary world.

Learning to cook at the CIA.

Our Boot Camp experience was a Farm-to-Table event focusing on the fresh bounty of Dutchess County farms. (The CIA is located in Hyde Park, Dutchess County, NY.) The first day we visited the farms and picked, dug, harvested and shopped for the ingredients we’d be cooking the next day. From the potatoes to the brussel sprouts, and from the goat cheese to the locally milled cornmeal, everything on the next day’s menu was sourced locally.

The Culinary Institute of America’s promotional material reads, “At Boot Camp you’ll discover how to select the perfect ingredients, how to prepare a variety of dishes, and how to demonstrate more confidence in your own kitchen. Hands-on cooking, chef demonstrations, and exceptional food make CIA Boot Camp one of “America’s Top Ten Destinations.”

What they don’t tell you is that you’ll be one of a group of “boot campers” working as a team to put complex meals on the table. Our group was only seven people, but there was work (and food enough) for at least twelve. That meant four teams of three (an ideal plan) was out, and we all had to work well together to produce a meal. I think we did a pretty good job, considering.

Making pasta.

Our “Team Production Assignments” were:
Team One
Heirloom Tomato and Goat Cheese Tart
Coq au Vin
Fresh Buttered Egg Pasta

Team Two
Warm Hudson Valley Salad with Baby Greens and Apples
Sautéed Berkshire Pork Cutlets with a Wild Mushroom Ragout
Potato Gnocchi

Team Three
Roast Rack of Lamb Persillé
Creamy Polenta
Oven-Roasted Brussels Sprouts with Lardons

Team Four
Skewered Beef Fillet with Chimichurri Sauce and Corn Relish
Corn Pudding
Braised Swiss Chard
Vanilla Ice Cream

I was Team Three, with some help with the brussel sprouts from the gnocci and swiss chard person. I helped with the chimichurri sauce, and took photos and a video when I wasn’t worried about burning the polenta!

In the classroom, beforehand, we reviewed the recipes and techniques we’d need to create this meal. When I asked how we’d be able to cook coq au vin in our 3 ½ hour cooking class, Chef Thomas said we’d use young hens instead of an old cock. He knew it would still be close, though.

I never cooked a rack of lamb before, and I had no idea what persillé meant. That’s why I volunteered to cook it. I learned that a persilladé is a bread and herb coating, and that lamb cooks very quickly! Also, that local farm-raised lamb is juicy and delicious even if it was medium rare instead of rare.

This next part is confusing to explain, but I’ll try. I was in a new kitchen surrounded by new people, cooking a recipe new to me, with descriptions in French that I didn’t understand. So, when the recipe called for me to make a mirepoix, I followed the instructions blindly, not knowing what I was doing, and not connecting. It all worked out all right, but it wasn’t until the next day that I realized that, had the recipe just said “make a sofrito,” I’d have known immediately what I was doing and been more comfortable. Next time I’ll ask what the unfamiliar terms mean before I start to cook.

For the rack of lamb I seasoned the Frenched ribs with salt, pepper, rosemary and thyme – on all sides. That roasted at 400 degrees for 15 minutes. Then I sprinkled the mirepoix (chopped onions, carrots and celery) around the lamb in the roasting pan and cooked at 350 degrees until an internal temp of 130. (I had no idea how long that would take. Someone suggested 45 minutes. In 17 minutes the internal temp was 132 degrees!) I set the lamb aside and made a sauce with the pan juices. It was strained, degreased and thickened (with arrowroot), and left to sit in a warm water bath while I mixed the bread crumbs, garlic and parsley, with melted butter. I brushed the lamb with whole grain mustard, and pressed the breading onto the top of the rack of lamb. At quarter after twelve I popped the lamb into a 400 degree oven to brown the crumbs. There was just time to carve off the individual ribs before the 12:30 p.m. serving.

For the polenta, I sautéed an onion and 2 cloves of garlic in 3 tablespoons of oil in a tall saucepan. I added 2 ½ cups water and the some of milk. When that was boiling, I added 1 ¼ tsp salt, and slowly drizzled 1 1/3 cups corn meal into the boiling liquid, stirring constantly. I continued boiling and stirring until it began to thicken. Then I transferred it to a buttered baking dish, covered it, and baked it for 30 minutes at 350 degrees. This method eliminates much of the stirring polenta usually gets, and freed me up for other things.

Other things included chef demonstrations of how to cut up a chicken, how to make pasta (wait until you see the photos!) and how to make mozzarella cheese. There was also time to help find strainers, measuring cups, the right pans – everything that is “lost” when you are in a strange kitchen. With all of this, we were on a tight schedule to produce everything at the same time, in time for lunch.

When I put the lamb in the oven for the browning, I removed the polenta, scraping it into a serving bowl, being careful not to disturb the bottom crust that developed on the pan. (That seemed like such a shame!) I stirred in ½ cup Parmesan and sprinkled another over the top. To dress it up some more, before putting it on the table I gathered the leftover herbed bread crumbs and sprinkled them on top.

The meal was almost a complete success. Our chef/instructor thought the corn pudding failed for reasons not related to the cook (it was grey!) and planned some test cooking with different utensils and techniques to determine what exactly went wrong. Everything else worked out perfectly, except that my camera batteries failed halfway through. Replacements were locked in my car and in a distant room, and there was no time to retrieve either. So bear with me in the photo dept while you enjoy the video on how to dismember a chicken.

Oven-Roasted Brussels Sprouts with Lardons
6 oz bacon cut into little strips
2 lbs brussel sprouts, stemmed, cut in half
1 tsp sea salt
½ tsp ground black pepper
Preheat the oven to 500 degrees. Cook the bacon until it is crisp in a large oven-proof frying pan. Meanwhile, bring a large pot of salted water to a boil. Have a large bowl of ice water nearby. Blanch the Brussel Sprouts for one minute in the boiling water. Remove to the ice water until chilled. Drain. Let dry on paper towels. When completely dry, toss with salt and pepper in the bacon and fat in the frying pan. Place in the hot oven and roast, shaking the pan occasionally, until they are tender and lightly charred, about 10 minutes. Serve hot.

The pasta was really good, as only fresh pasta can be, especially drenched with an herbed butter. The coq au vin was ready in time and delicious in a falling-off-the-bone kind of way. The braised red cabbage was an extra recipe we made because the cabbage looked so good. (Certainly, it was not because we needed more food, or had extra time!) It was similar to jarred red cabbage only waay better. I made that again as soon as I got home. The skewered beef was the wrong cut and too tough, but the relishes with it were very tasty, really complimented the good flavor of the beef. The pork and mushrooms were delicious, as good as the lamb, but so different. The braised swiss chard was perfect with this combination of foods. Finally, how can you go wrong with ice cream?

It was altogether too much food for the seven of us, plus the chef and two student helpers. We invited more people to join us, until we were 20 or so friends and colleagues celebrating our success cooking the bounty of local farms. We deserved to celebrate. We all worked together to put this meal on the table, and we all earned the passing grade – “Plays Well With Others!”

The Culinary Institute of America is a leader in the Farm-to-Fork movement. They believe in buying the freshest and best ingredients, and try to buy from local purveyors when possible. As proof of their commitment, the CIA hired a local farmer to coordinate local farm purchases. As an example, they buy 750,000 eggs locally every year. By next year they will all be free-range chicken eggs.

Sign up for the CIA Boot Camps online. They have all manner of classes from basic to advanced, and from baking to Asian cuisine, lasting from one day to 5 days. You’ll have a great time, you’ll learn new cooking techniques, and make a whole new bunch of foodie friends!

The Culinary Institute of America
1946 Campus Drive
Hyde Park, NY 12538
877-334-6464

Fifty million pounds of chocolate will be sold in honor of Valentine’s Day. Women of a certain age with discriminating palates – in other words, advanced chocoholics — might prefer Godiva or boutique chocolates. But much of that 50 million pounds will be in the form of Hershey’s kisses, chocolate roses, and their 3 pound solid chocolate hearts. In fact, Hershey’s sales claim 42 percent of the American chocolate market.

The advantage of Hershey’s chocolates, of course, is that they are everywhere – in drugstores, grocery stores, and gas stations; you can even order them on Amazon. Plus, it may be gauche to say, but Hershey’s brand is a lot cheaper than something with a ganache filling or gold leaf ornament. This makes Hershey’s chocolates a perfect gift for novice or inept Valentine’s Day wooers.

The disadvantage of buying Hershey’s chocolate is that the company sources their cocoa from a region that engages in child labor, forced labor, and human trafficking in order to produce our lovely treats. That casts a shadow on a token of true love.

While many chocolate companies have committed to fair trade practices in their manufacture of chocolate, unfortunately our most-recognized name in chocolates has no policies in place to trace their cocoa purchasing and enforce labor rights standards. Much of Hershey’s cocoa, for instance, is sourced from West Africa, a region that is plagued by child labor abuses.

Fair Trade Certified products set a price that aims to cover the cost of production and a living wage in the local context for those involved in the manufacture. This allows businesses to hire adults instead of to force children to do the work of adults for much lower wages. Many sources for chocolates have formed cooperatives or artisan collectives to reinvest revenue in their communities. Human rights and labor laws are strictly enforced.

For more information, google Global Exchange, Green America, the International Labor Rights Forum, or Oasis USA. Better yet, don’t wait until February 14 for someone to buy you chocolates. Do your own shopping and research for Fair Trade chocolates online now, or visit with your neighborhood chocolatier to get the lowdown on your chocolate high.

Chocolate is a fabulous traditional Valentine’s Day gift. But if you want to fan the fires of love without stoking the furnace of misery for children in another part of the world, look for chocolates with Fair Trade certification. It’s one more thing you can feel good about as each bite melts in your mouth.

Judy Kirkwood has written about Chocolate: The Exhibition, which opened at the Field Museum in 2002 and is still touring the U.S. and Canada.

A Traveler Attends the Istanbul Culinary Institute

By Emilie C. Harting

Were it not for the large letters “Istanbul Culinary Institute” above the front entrance, one would assume that the restaurant Enstitu was an elegant café in a row of buildings next to the Pera Museum southeast of Taksim Square.  On a clear day locals and tourists sit under umbrellas on either side of the front door, or wander inside to eat and shop for gourmet food.

Fehmi Samanci, Istanbul Culinary Institute teacher.

I’d been traveling in Turkey for several weeks, and near the end of the trip I arrived at the Institute to take an individual Amateur Cooking Class, one of an array of classes, tours, and other programs for travelers.

“As you probably know, not all Turkish cuisine is gyros and kabobs,” said head chef instructor Fehmi Samanci as we entered the long, sun-filled classroom with stoves and refrigerators on either side.

Appetizers, eggplant, salad on top.

“Would you like to watch me as I explain the steps, or do you want to cook with me?”    Fehmi began setting out a number of bowls, pots, stirrers and measurers out on the long metal table that ran down the middle of the room.

Eager to learn from such an accomplished chef, I said I’d like to participate.

When I asked him how he became a chef, Fehmi said that he’d grown up watching his mother cook, and  when he was thinking about a career he saw there was a real need for educated chefs.  “So I learned to teach them,” he said with a slight giggle.   “And to teach non chefs like yourself.  I also enjoy going to cities like New York and London to demonstrate Turkish cooking at culinary institutes and TV stations.”

“Let’s make three basic Turkish dishes: eggplant salad (patlican salatasi), braised fish (balik pilakisi), and zucchini fritters (mücver).  We’ll do the slicing and chopping for each as the others are cooking.”

By then I’d learned that the first course in many Turkish restaurants is the Meze, the appetizer.    Soon after the guests sit down, a waiter comes out with a huge tray of twelve to eighteen appetizers, each in a small bowl.  A diner picks out three or so.  Ironically, I’d avoided the eggplant salad because it looked like ochre colored paste without much texture. It also looked dull compared to dishes with tomatoes, mushrooms, onions, and olives.

Students at work.

“Eggplant salad is one of the most popular appetizers in the country,” Fehmi told me.  “We can either bake the eggplants in the oven or cook them on our grill.”   I looked around for a portable grill and saw that he was placing the eggplants in a standing up position over burners on the gas stove.  “We’ll keep them here until the skins bubble.”

As the eggplants cooked, we went on to the braised fish.  Fehmi chose sea bream because it was in season in the late spring.     (I’d had it a few times at small fish restaurants, and it was delicious.  The soft white fish absorbs the flavor of the tomatoes and herbs!)    He said that orange roughy, snapper, or sea bass would be good substitutes in the United States. After slicing onions and frying them in olive oil, we chopped a few springs of  parsley, concussed  (rough chopped)  tomatoes which we’d peeled after dipping them in boiling water, and mixed in mashed garlic, salt and pepper.  We placed half of the mixture in the bottom of a baking pot and lay the filets in before putting the remaining sauce on top and covering the pot.

“It’s important to have a sauce that’s not too thick or it will draw down the flavor,” Fehmi said as he placed the covered pot in the middle of the hot oven. “Also, it should not be cooked too fast.”

While the fish baked, we started the zucchini fritters.  We washed and grated the zucchini, pressed batches of it between our hands with paper towels to make sure all the liquid was out, and put it aside while we chopped scallions and dill, crumbled up feta cheese,  beat eggs, and mixed all of the ingredients together.  We then added the flour, little by little, along with the pepper and salt.  Fehmi said there were two methods of cooking the fritters, either baking or frying.  Since frying is quicker, we poured spoonfuls of the mixture into a pan of olive oil, let the fritters get golden brown on each side, and then rested them on a paper towel to draw out the excess fat.

Farm at Saros.

“Bon Appetit,” said Fehmi and Hande Bozdogan, the owner/director of the Instiute who had come to join us at an eating table near the window.

When I told Hande how delicious and natural the food tasted, she said the aim of both their restaurant, Enstitu, and the Culinary Institute was to make the healthiest food possible.  “We don’t use much butter, and avoid other dairy products, except the modest cheeses that give flavor, such as in your zucchini fritters, and yogurt in some dishes”

As we sat, Hande told me about how she has been heavily influenced by Anatolian cuisine that is typical of the interior of Turkey.  She owns a farm in Saros, two hours north of Istanbul near the Greek border.  Each day a wide variety of fruits, vegetables, and herbs are transported from the farm to the restaurant and training kitchens.   The list was mouthwatering: tomatoes, peppers, broccoli, zucchini, eggplant, okra, artichokes, thyme, basil, and mint, as well as apples, pears, pomegranates, quince, and mulberries.    “It’s important to get the food from the farm to the table as soon as it is picked.  We have a steady clientele of local business people who come because they want healthy food that’s cooked without pretension.  I hope we don’t lose the simplicity of Turkish food with the current trend to make food look fancier than it actually is.  We have such a rich culinary history with Ottoman, Greek, and Arab dishes.”  Hande talked about the book she wrote on street food, which she said is fascinating.  You learn how basic Turkish food is cooked because the dishes are created before your eyes.

I asked Hande and Fehmi about their favorite spices.   Almost speaking together, they said many fresh herbs plus red pepper flakes, cumin, sumac powder, oregano, saffron, and lots of cinnamon and cloves.  “We often take students to the spice market and fish market first before we cook,”

I came away from the lesson with a better appreciation of the food I’d been loving in Western Turkey. I’d also picked up tips on how to hold knives, chop, braise, and, above all, to make simple ingredients more tasty.

Even more: Watch an interview with Hande Bozdogan on http://tinyurl.com/27mbcnt. Her book Flavors of the Street: Turkey won the Gourmand Award in 2005, and is available on Amazon.  Istanbul: Contemporary Cuisine also received awards and will also be available soon on Amazon.

For more of Emilie C. Harting’s work visit: www.emilieharting.com. She can be reached at echarting@gmail.com and her blog is: echarting@wordpress.com.

Paradise Sale, a beautiful, yellowish/clear gelatin with red and green vegetables in it; quite tasty and beautiful to look at. I can see why gelatin salads will become popular again. Check out that recipe. (Photo by Richard Frisbie.)

The issue also contains an entire article on Greek food. I’m tentatively scheduled for a Greek press trip this fall, so any articles on the food and wine of Greece are research for me. Besides, I’m fascinated with Greek culture, I’ve always wanted to go to there. The author describes the experience of first encountering the dish, alevropita, at an inn. It was served as a meze, or small taste, but was such a transcendent culinary experience that he persuaded the innkeeper to give him the recipe. The whole article carefully documents how she made the complete dish for him, all the ingredients and times, so he’d know how to do it himself. The innkeeper used the Greek equivalent of grappa, incorporated some of the feta in the simple egg batter, and topped it with a
sprinkling of paprika. The result was a thin crispy tart. The photograph made it look fantastically delicious. When it finally came time to recreate the recipe, something happened to the authenticity after the editors got their hands on it. Instead of a round pan that was the correct size for the ingredients, an 18 inch rectangular pan was listed. Vodka replaced the grappa, but if you hadn’t read the article you wouldn’t know that. Water called for in the recipe wasn’t listed in the ingredients. All the feta was sprinkled on top of the mix in the pan, which was too big to keep the edges from being too thin and burning. There was no paprika suggested. It may sound as if I’m complaining. I’m not. I’m simply pointing out the differences between what the innkeeper made and what the editors wrote; the authentic dish versus the modern equivalent. Once you’ve read both you can decide which way you want to make it. I used the recipe (against my better judgment) because I believe in following the recipe the first time, then making the changes my tastebuds and my eyes tell me are necessary. Next time I’m definitely using a slightly smaller pan, some grappa instead of vodka, and I will incorporate some feta in the mix before sprinkling
the rest on top. We’ll see about the paprika.

(Photo by Richard Frisbie.)

This recipe looks could be the base for any number of delicious hors d’oeuvres. Substituting a seasoned feta and adding caramelized onions, chopped
chives, black olives, or garlic would add dimensions to please both the nose and the eye before beginning to saveur (sic;) the taste. Spreading an olivada or pesto on top would deliciously compound the flavors. This recipe is definitely a keeper. I can’t wait to play with it. Get the current issue of Saveur Magazine for these and other recipes you can have fun with.

(Photo by Richard Frisbie.)

Text and photos by Vivienne Mackie

The African continent is home to a variety of fascinating ancient trees and plants, a fact that enhances the mystery and appeal of this continent.

Amarula tree.

One is the Marula Tree, often called “The Great Provider,” because of its many uses. The Marula tree grows naturally in the warm, frost-free regions of southern Africa, especially Botswana, Zimbabwe and South

Although not commercially cultivated the Marula is part of the mango, cashew and pistachio family. Its fruit, which looks like a worn tennis ball, is used for making jam, beer, and wine, and it is the basis for a Amarula Cream Liqueur, one of South Africa’s most successful exports.

The Marula is also known as “hard walnut” from the Greek, refers to the hard stone inside the fleshy fruit. It is a medium sized deciduous tree that has been extremely important to the indigenous Bantu peoples and their migrations for at least 10,000 years, according to archeological evidence. The ripe Marula is the size of a small yellow plum, its fleshy fruit high in vitamin C (more than 4 times that of an average-size orange), the nutty kernel is high in protein and oil, while the bark has medicinal properties that are helpful in malaria prophylaxis, for pain, and for scorpion or snake bites. The inner bark can be used to make rope and the soft wood is good for carving.

Marula fruit.

Held sacred among those who inhabit the region, the Marula tree plays a prominent role in tribal legends. Commonly nicknamed “the Marriage Tree,” it is widely believed to bestow vigor and fertility upon those who marry beneath its branches. Even today, tribal wedding ceremonies occur beneath its branches. The hard stones inside the soft yellow fruit are often dried and strung together in a necklace that traditionally symbolizess love.

During southern Africa’s spring and early summer when the ripe Marula fruit hangs on the tree, animals travel for miles to collect and enjoy their share of this delicious, natural bounty. Warthog, waterbuck, giraffe and kudu all eat the fruit and leaves of the tree, but foremost are the herds of African elephants that have roamed the continent for thousands of years. For this reason, some communities also refer to the Marula tree as the “Elephant Tree.” This age-old relationship between these two African symbols is why both this majestic creature and the Marula tree feature as icons for the Amarula Cream Liqueur.

Amarula Cream Liqueur

A popular centuries-old myth is that elephants and other animals eat the rotting Marula fruit and get intoxicated. It was put to rest by a National Geographic story. (See: http://news.nationalgeographic.com/news/2005/12/1219_051219_drunk_elephant.html )

Once a year, the Marula tree is responsible for a remarkable event – the annual Marula harvest. Celebrations occur as the bountiful fruit is gathered from across the plains. A single tree can produce over 10,000 fruit.

Here is where the process of making Amarula Cream begins. After it is collected by hand, this lush and exotic pale yellow fruit is pulped and fermented before undergoing slow and careful distillation in copper pot sills. This process further concentrates the flavor of the fruit, yielding the unique-tasting Marula spirit that is then matured for at least two years in small French oak barrels.

When the tasters say that the contents of each barrel are ready, the Marula spirit is blended with the finest, freshest cream. This is final step toward creating this distinctively smooth liqueur. Amarula Cream has been enjoyed by people who live in and visit its native African continent, and in the last decade or so, has become available to other regions, allowing connoisseurs and and the no-so-experienced to discover this unique flavor. Many people have commented that if you like cream liqueurs, then you owe it to yourself to try this one.

There are also wonderful Amarula Cream chocolates, if you’d like to savor the Spirit of Africa in yet another form.

Amarula Cream can be enjoyed on its own, splashed over ice, or in a variety of delectable cocktails. Many locals and visitors love the southern African tradition of “Sundowners.” A splash of Amarula Cream over ice is one perfect way to watch the sun go down in one of Africa’s spectacular sunsets.

For more information:

Amarula Cream, www.amarula.com (You must include a birth date to enter the site).

Frying bannock. (Photo by Susan McKee.)

I’m always on the lookout for indigenous cooking wherever I travel. Last summer, while on a trip to Canada’s Yukon Territory, I was wandering through Dawson City on my way to the Dänojà Zho Cultural Centre when the aroma of bannock stopped me. What’s a traditional Scottish treat doing up in the Yukon Territory?

The aroma lured me toward a young woman cooking bannock over an open fire. She explained that it was brought to Canada in the mid-1880s by Scots working for the Hudson’s Bay Company. Because it was so easy to cook and transport, it became popular among the hunters and trappers, who spent months traveling. It was quickly adopted by the First Nations people.

Scottish bannocks are heavy flat cakes of unleavened barley or oatmeal dough formed into a round or oval shape, then cooked on a griddle. “Bannock,” comes from ancient Latin, but is also a Celtic and Old English word, which essentially means “baked goods.” It’s initially recorded at the turn of the first millennium.

Whether the Yukon’s bannock came from Scotland, or was an adaptation of the typical fry bread made by indigenous peoples on both sides of the U.S. and Canadian border, doesn’t really matter to foodies. It’s the eating we love best.

Here’s the recipe:

3 cups flour

2 level teaspoons baking powder

4 tablespoons sugar

1 teaspoon salt

Preheat some cooking oil in a frying pan. Mix together with about 3 cups of water, stirring until the batter is smooth. Scoop a large spoonful of dough into the frying pan and flatten it. Cook, turning once, until both sides are golden brown. Serve with “butter, jam or anything else that might enhance bannock.

For more on Dawson City visit: www.dawsoncity.ca

Susan can be reached at: Susan@SusanMcKee.com.

By Keith Kellett

When I attend one of the Vaughantown English-language programmes, I’m always being told that the meals, while good, aren’t typically Spanish. So, any serious research into Spanish food usually is confined to tapas and snacks, which is fair enough. We’re there to give Spanish people experience in speaking English, not to eat.

The programmes don’t start until breakfast at 9 a.m. Now, I’m an early riser and often have a considerable amount of work done by then. So, while I  pass the time by writing notes and reviewing pictures it nevertheless seems a long time until breakfast. And, I usually feel peckish, or at least, in need of liquid.

A short way down the street from the Salamanca hotel where we were staying is an establishment, which opens very early, called a churreria, which serves something with which many Spanish people like to start their day.

Chocolate con Churros is hot, sweet drinking chocolate, so thick you could almost stand your spoon in it. It’s served with baton-like deep-fried pastries, freshly cooked in the same way as doughnuts, which are dunked in the chocolate before eating. Guide book lore has it that the party-loving Spaniards sometimes go straight from a party to work, and like to take on the energy jolt given by a chocolate con churros. However, most Spanish people I know deny this strongly — although they will admit it’s a good way to end a night out, as well as start a morning.

Hot chocolate beside a plate of freshly made churros. (Photo by Keith Kellett.)

Of course, it doesn’t do to indulge in this treat too often.  The words “calories” and “cholesterol” spring to mind. But, a lot of people have similar guilts about bacon and eggs, so why not occasionally!

The churreria itself, called the Graci, is a small room, most taken up by the bar, the machines for making the chocolate and the churros and the stove for frying the churros. There were one or two cramped tables and chairs, so it’s better to belly up to the bar to have your chocolate.

You can make your own churros, but you need to have a special machine, or a doughnut maker. The mix is a typical doughnut recipe: flour and water in approximate 1-1 proportions, salt and olive oil, according to how many you want to make. Boil the water, oil and salt, and add the flour till it becomes a smooth, thick paste.

At the churreria, they place the mixture in a special machine, from which the churros are taken as required. The machine is right over the pan they’re fried in, so they can be dropped straight into the hot oil.

There’s another version, larger than the churro called the porra. You have to be careful when you’re asking for these, as the word is similar to porro, which I’m told is Spanish slang for a joint or a spliff! Or, is it the other way around? Or, have I been completely misinformed?

Maybe it’s best to stick to churros?

Keith, our UK correspondent, can be reached at: Keith@globalfoodie.com.

Last year’s favorite!

Ringraziamento … an Italian Thanksgiving

By Andrew J. Harvey

The author poses beside a roasted turkey while holding its foldout paper partner.

During the fall of 2008 a dream of mine came true — the opportunity to spend a semester living and studying in Italy. Having learned the Italian language, I specifically requested a host family that spoke little or no English.

I arrived at Gianni and Ana Silvestri’s multi-story home, located in the center of Florence. Lifelong Florentines, they welcomed me into their lives and went out of their way to make me feel comfortable in my new home.  During those months they introduced me to every aspect of Italian life.  In talking to other students later I realized that I had indeed received a much better host family than most.

By November I think I met every member of the extended family. I decided that it would be nice to repay everyone by introducing them to the uniquely American Thanksgiving dinner.  My cooking experience was limited, so I was guided through the meal by recipes found online and email advice from my mother, who is half Italian. Mama Ana did the shopping. When she came home with the groceries I realized my culinary gift was harder than expected.  She arrived with a 21-pound turkey — still in full white-feathered regalia. Apparently, those frozen and fresh market turkeys so common in American supermarkets aren’t easy to find in Italy.

My aim was for Ana to relax while I did the cooking. Getting an Italian mother to watch you cook without helping is an impossibility.  We began by preparing homemade stuffing with a loaf of Italian bread. She really wanted to put meat in the stuffing and was shocked that I’d make it without sausage or some sort of meat.

The only item we lacked was string to tie the legs together.  Ana disappeared and came back with a wide red ribbon. Although it caught fire while in the oven, it got the job done – and maybe it added a bit of flavor, who knows.

Next we made two traditional American side dishes, a green bean casserole with mushrooms and onions and, of course, mashed potatoes. She’d never seen green bean casserole before, so she let me create that dish myself.

Ana set the table with bright orange napkins, flowers, and a folding paper turkey she found in a stationary store. She was excited about that find and insisted on taking my picture with the real and fake turkey. Once that was finished the family sat down and enjoyed a wonderful dinner.

Most would consider white wine the better poultry choice. During my entire Tuscan experience I never saw a glass of white wine. My host father, Gianni, would rather eat the label than drink white wine.  So, with this in mind, we drank a bottle of traditional fall wine, Vino Novello, that I picked up outside of Siena the week before.  We ate, laughed, and compared Italian and American experiences. This was, she said, most similar to their Christmas meal.

When I came home from school the day after our feast I found most of Ana’s relatives at the table enjoying the leftovers, while Ana explained the holiday to them.  They seemed especially impressed with the stuffing and casserole and insisted on having me translate the recipes into Italian.   After introducing so much of their culture to me, I took pleasure in introducing something uniquely American.  Ana, Gianni, and the rest of the family truly enjoyed their first Thanksgiving and last fall continued the tradition of what they now call “Ringraziamento.”

Andrew J. Harvey is Globalfoodie’s Italian expert and a senior at Syracuse University. Fluent in the language – and the food – he brings a unique, personal and accurate take on the importance of Italian food within the culture. He can be reached at: Andrew@globalfoodie.com.