Scooter Reunion

Lugano, Switzerland, July 1971. I think it's charming that "vespa" is the Italian word for "wasp."

Exchange-Rate Reunion

Lugano, Switzerland, July 1971. We'll stop here before we shop.

From the Other Side

Venice, Italy, April 1984. We're at the Campo dei Frari.

"Niente altro. Non ci sono tanti segreti."

"Nothing else. There aren't many secrets" ... to making cannoli:

"Ah ... mi sento un uccello in un giardino." ("Ah ... I hear a bird in a garden.")

Planks

Venice, Italy, January 1984. It's still the season for acqua alta.

February Weather ...

... in Venice:

Venice, Italy, February 1984. I'm on my way back to the Archivio.

Carnevale Chaos

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Piazza San Marco, Venice, Italy, March 1984. It's much too crowded here.

A Calm Campo

Venice, Italy, June 1989. We're approaching the Campo San Pietro di Castello. The campo is in a neighborhood tourists rarely visit.

Not-So-Swiss Reunion

Lugano, Switzerland, July 1971. There's a different feeling here.

Corte-Grimani Reunion

Venice, Italy, April 1984. Explore the places where people live.

Babos Receptai (Part 5)

It's time for a seasonal turn for "Babos Receptai." Lithuanians, like most Europeans, usually don't eat turkey.* A suckling pig, filled with liver stuffing, graces the Christmas table, and Lithuanians often eat roast veal at Easter. Lithuania does not observe Thanksgiving, although over the years, many people asked me what people eat in Lithuania during that holiday (pre-1991 answer: they don't eat to give thanks; they stand in line at the grocery store).

Our family adjusted to the Thanksgiving holiday, and we always served turkey. My paternal Grandmother, Tatjana, did not, however, stuff the turkey with the moist dressing familiar to the American table. Tatjana instead prepared that liver stuffing intended for the suckling pig. How I hated it as a child! The texture reminded me of a grainy paté,** and I gagged on the taste. I insisted on walking over to my Best Friend's house as soon as our "Thanksgiving meal" had ended so I could enjoy the real offerings of the holiday.

I've now been making Tatjana's liver stuffing for Thanksgiving since 1984. It's our twist on a traditional side dish. But it remains an acquired taste.

Here's Tatjana's recipe for the delicacy:

Here's how I modified and wrote up the recipe:

"A Very Good Stuffing for Chickens or Small Turkeys

(This proportion is enough for a 15-pound turkey.)"

2 cups water, boiling hot

1 ounce dried Porcini mushrooms

1/4 cup (1/2 stick or 4 tablespoons) butter

2 large onions, chopped (2 cups)

2 medium ribs celery, chopped (2 cups)

3/4 cup Italian (flat-leaf) parsley, minced

1 teaspoon dried marjoram

3/4 teaspoon dried rosemary

1/2 teaspoon dried thyme

1-1/2 teaspoons salt

1/2 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper

8 ounces bacon, diced

8 ounces veal calf's livers (or turkey livers)

8 ounces chicken livers

8 ounces ground veal

1 pound unseasoned bread cubes (part rye bread, if desired)

1/2 cup liquid reserved from soaking mushrooms

2 eggs, beaten to blend

1 cup chicken broth 

1 cup Italian (flat-leaf) parsley, minced

Combine 2 cups boiling water and the dried mushrooms; let stand for about 30 minutes, or until the mushrooms are softened. Drain through a coffee filter, reserving the liquid. Squeeze the mushrooms dry and chop coarsely.

In a large skillet, melt the butter over medium heat. Add the onions and celery. Cook, stirring often, until the onions are very tender and translucent, about 10 to 15 minutes. Transfer the vegetables from the skillet to a very large bowl using a slotted spoon. Leave any remaining butter in the skillet. To the bowl, stir in the mushrooms, the 1/2 cup parsley, dried marjoram, dried rosemary, dried thyme, salt, and freshly ground black pepper.

In the same skillet, in any remaining butter, sauté the bacon. Remove the bacon with a slotted spoon and add to the vegetable mixture, leaving about 4 tablespoons of the fat in the pan. Add the veal and chicken livers to the pan and sauté until the livers are almost cooked through. Add the ground veal and sauté for about 3 minutes. Cool.

Transfer the liver mixture to the workbowl of a food processor and process, using the metal blade, until the meats are just ground.  Stir the meats into the vegetable mixture. Mix the bread cubes into the vegetable mixture. (Can be prepared one day ahead to this point. Cover the mixture and refrigerate. Cover and chill the mushroom liquid separately.)

Mix together the beaten eggs and 1/2 cup reserved mushroom liquid; add to the stuffing. Stir in enough chicken broth to moisten.

Generously butter a 5- to 7-quart slow cooker. Transfer the stuffing to the slow cooker.  Cover and cook on "High" setting for 2 hours. Reduce heat to "Low" and cook until heated through, about 2 to 3 hours.

Just before serving, moisten the stuffing with some of the turkey drippings and stir in the remaining 1 cup minced parsley. The slow cooker, turned off, will keep the stuffing at serving temperature for up to 3 hours. 

*A group of American students and ex-pats invited me to a Thanksgiving celebration when I first arrived in Venice in 1983. It was my job to find the turkey. My Italian language skills still were elementary, and I had forgotten my dictionary when I visited the butcher shop. When I arrived at the counter, I tried to explain what I was trying to buy. Exasperated, I said, in Italian, "a big bird!" The butcher nearly laughed me out of the shop.

**The liver stuffing, and a paté, were among the specialties Tatjana prepared when the family lived in Lithuania. The housekeeper was territorial about her kitchen work, and she resented times when Tatjana decided to cook. As family and guests gathered around a holiday table one year, the housekeeper brought the paté—the only dish Tatjana had prepared—to the table. A guest said, "Oh! Paté!" The housekeeper replied, "This isn't paté; it's shit."

Quiet-Canal Reunion

Venice, Italy, April 1984. The gondoliero still wears his winter uniform.

Heading Home

Venice, Italy, June 1984. The motonave takes me back to the Lido.

It's time to sing "Ilgiausių Metų" again.

Suburban Chicago, June 3, 1989. Here's a clip of the wedding guests singing "Ilgiausių Metų." When they finish the first verse, a woman asserts "Vaisingų!!", or "Fruitful Years!!" That prompts me to gesture a finger wag.

I visit the Uffizi

Florence, Italy, May 1984. This morning's Uffizi post reminded me of my visit to Florence. I didn't find the city charming. There were more tourists than in Venice. The historical sites stood in a tight area that made the city center seem like an amusement park. The place was claustrophobic. I also had some trouble understanding the Florentine dialect, which softens the "c" sounds: "Casa" becomes "hasa," for example.

Florence is the city in which I encountered my first "ugly American." As I sat sipping a macchiato, a woman exclaimed to her husband, "Why can't these Italians make a decent cup of coffee?!"

Ciao, Sailors!

Genoa, Italy, 1930. The fellow on the left is Dolfo, my Best Friend's father.

Thanks to my Best Friend for making this photo available to us.

Crossing

Venice, Italy, May 1984. Behind the freighter is a commuter motonave.

Let's make a Kugelis.

Mr. Irene and I decided to make a traditional Lithuanian dish, Kugelis, last night. It wasn't a special occasion; we just had a taste for it, and our potatoes were on the "old" side. (Lithuanian cooks insist old potatoes makes a better Kugelis because old potatoes have less liquid.)

We don't make Kugelis very often because it's something of a—to use an Italian phrase—"bomba calorica." A dish that serves six to eight people features five pounds of potatoes, two sticks of butter, one cup of cream, 12 ounces of bacon, five eggs, and an onion. And one eats Kugelis with a generous side of sour cream.
 

 Verona, Wisconsin, March 2014. Mr. Irene peeled and quartered the potatoes. We kept the potatoes in ice water until I was ready to grate them. 

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Verona, Wisconsin, March 2014. The potatoes must be grated using a fine blade; the correct texture is a pulp, not shreds. We use a Lithuanian potato-grating machine. 

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Verona, Wisconsin, March 2014. Quick grating keeps the potatoes from oxidizing. Lithuanians frown upon a "grey" Kugelis.

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Verona, Wisconsin, March 2014. The Kugelis is ready about three hours after we started making it.

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Verona, Wisconsin, March 2014. Rex says, "Hey! Bacon!!" 

Porca Miseria

Pope Francis utters "cazzo" when he meant to say "caso."

Rainy Reunion

Venice, Italy, November 1983. In a few weeks, acqua alta will flood the Piazza.