ITALIAN AWAKENING - FOOD, ARTS, AND GIGOLOS

Everything and anything Italian gets my heart racing…….

From their names, way of pronouncing certain words, their food, their fashion, their art, their architecture, their opera, their wine, their parmesan and their men…..

Contemplating anthropologically – how is it that certain countries produce beautiful men – leaving the female of that population out of luck.     Take France, Italy, or Greece, be it their waters, wine or food that they eat,  they seem to generate these incredible and delectable men simply meant for procreation.

With the women of Turkey, Egypt and Persia, under the Purdah, these ladies have beautiful skin, blue-green eyes with striking beauty.   The men did not have such good fortune on their side, (Allah gave them oil - so what do they need good looks for?)  with their rough bearded skin cloaked in white robes, hiding what could be a six-pack or more likely a bloated belly.   In South East Asia, the Thai women are well known for their charm, beauty and femininity but their men fail miserably trying to look like plastic Korean dolls bordering on hermaphroditism. 

So gets lets back to the Italian charms – of  Pedro, Pasta and Proseco.    For after all I am a woman, that likes her chianti, men and linguini not necessarily in that order.

Campo De’Fiori in Roma is where my pillow is for the next few weeks or months conditional on many issues. The field of flowers, Campo De’Fiori is south of the Piazza Navona.  Abandoned field of flowers in the 14^th century, the square became a daily market.  

In the 1600 it was the scene of many an execution, notably Giordano Bruno burned at the stake for his philosophical ideals.   

Today as I walk along the cafes and shops, the ‘ambiente’  begs of  fresh Mediterranean produce, an extraordinary butcher shop called Il Florentino.  The meat is displayed as if it were jewels from Harry Winston’s.   From the back of vans, rows of  pretty white cotton dresses complimenting the summer sky selling like hot cakes.   Tents selling produce of Italy, from sun dried tomatoes to limonchello, meandering round these shops, I am late for my Italian cookery class.

Chef Andrea Consoli, operates this cooking school in the center of Rome on Via Fienaroli and today he is teaching me Artichokes Roman style, homemade fettucine with Norma Sauce, stuffed meatballs and for dessert chocolate souffle.

The day passed by so deliciously, experiencing shopping in the market, and then later cooking in Chef Andrea’s kitchen.    I am slowly devouring the taste and texture of the chocolate souffle as taught  by Pedro to use  my tongue simply tasting and awakening the taste buds to  the velvety smoothness of every ingredient that has gone into this special souffle.   Re-creating this for my special man, Pedro says  that this kind of seduction will work every time.  Is he hinting?  

My time in Campo d'fiori is  a mixture of  learning a language, becoming more eloquent and knowledgable on art, loving more passionately, and consuming excellent Chianti.   

Two days of cooking interwoven by two days worth of art lessons from Pedro began to rejuvenate  my soul, my stomach and my heart.   

SEX AND BEER

Marc Antony looked down on Caesar's body
He said "Friends, Romans, Countrymen, lend me you ear
I did not come here to praise Caeser, I came here for sex and beer.

Lyrics from Pat McCurdy

Every now and again I have this desire to understand men.   When I think I do, they leave me bewildered.  Supposedly very simple creatures, all books say to keep them to stay, willingly, there are three things they need. According to Steve Harvey, the author of  “Act like a Lady, Think like a Man” very simply men need  Support, Loyalty and “the cookie” Harvey’s euphemism for Sex.   

My theory to know a man, is to know his drink.   The drinks cabinet in the house I grew up had a cool selection from Vermouth to Vodka (my father had style and taste) but never missing in the fridge were different types of Beer (for others).  By the time I had my own house, beer was stocked with the same equal amount of bottled water.  (I went for a different kind of man) And by the time my sons were able to share their taste of the amber liquid with their Dad, the bottled water was squeezed into the far corner obliterated by a variety of beers.   So it is time I raided the fridge, take hold of my own kitchen and tasted all the beer my men seemed to devour at great speed.  This technique might allow me to understand my men or any man  for that matter and perhaps give me lee way in  negotiating my way through the male  dominated population of my house, work place and admirers.

Since I figured that my love of Club Soda’s bubbly fizzy pizzazz, I would find it easy to down the golden amber liquid effortlessly.   My introduction to beer a while ago was typically a Shandy, a mixture of beer and 7up, very much a ladies drink easily downed and thirst quenching.  Whilst it does nothing for the buzz effect, it made up in style.   The image of an emancipated woman leaves men the wishful desire to conquer that wild streak.

Then after a longish spell of beer abstinence, my desire for beer returned in the most obscure place. The summer in Plovdiv, Bulgaria of that particular year was scorching.  Europe was under going some global warming with sun spots and ozone hole thinning.  Introduction of Stella Artois just did it for me.   I couldn’t get enough of this delectable amber.   High alcohol content meant that the hazy trip in Plovdiv was so memorable, old Orthodox Churches were a blur …. The blur of Stella Artois.   I later learned that in Europe its considered the larger lout’s beer. On reflection perhaps my partner downed me on Stellar Artois for his pleasure.  And believe me his pleasure was reciprocated.

On my Japan trips, I was reluctant to be the  docile Asian wife walking slowly behind the man, so no delicate sips of green tea but Asahi beer was my choice of liquid.   It rates behind the Japanese man, dry, unexciting but sufficient when desire strikes.  The Beer Advocate gives it a poor rating with soapy taste reviews.      

This is not about my reviews on beer more like ways to decipher men through their choice of ale.  After much taste, and a lot of buzz, a little tipsy into the bargain I have categorized and summed up my take on men in general.   

Thinking Man’s Beer    

Samuel Adams.   

There's no denying, whatever the color or creed, the man with the power is what most thinking women go for.   A difficult beer to come by, Boston made beer  although available globally,  it is hard to find.  Just like powerful men, you have to be at the right place, right time......

The  Larger Lout         

  Stella Artoise

Craziness.   It hits the spot.  Tasting bitter but leaves a sweet aftertast.
It is very refreshing when the desire to quench parched lips and throat. Definitely
stronger than average in every aspect.  Perhaps "real"men don't drink this potion as its been dubbed as a woman's drink but experience tells me only REAL MEN know how to handle this rather rough golden liquid.

Holiday Beach drink          

           Corona

This beer requires a slice of lemon, squeezed and dunked into the bottle.  Much like men who need a Panama hat in scorching sun to compliment his beige suit, like a peacock parading his wares.   They are great to look at but just misses the mark when it comes to the real thing.

Middle management executive            

Heineken

Middle management aspiring for CEO.  Or the vain guy, believing he is James Bond in every way possible.  The result of great advertising puts a whole section of the male population ordering what he thinks would bring in the ladies.

The Blue collar brigade                       

Leo Beer

Requires the Leo Calendar Girls banners generally found
hung at mom & pop stores where truck drivers stop to refuel
and fantasize.  Rough and ready and cheap..... if that's what you like.
Slam, bam, thank you ma'am.

Is it possible to find all of these types in one man?  I could do with all of the above but if choice was limited to one, perhaps the Guiness drinker.

He is the tough guy, knows what he wants, when he wants it and goes for it.  He is the man that can change tyres swiftly and dances the marengo deftly.  This is a man most women want.

END OF THE EARTH

Just an idea to get into the groove of where Albany Australia is.

If you have ever been down to the end of the earth where there’s no-where further to go, then you have arrived at Albany Australia.   It is the last stop to nowhere.  

But before I commit myself to the tip of our glorious planet, the decision to drop off at Margaret River vineyards  on the way, as an Oenophilia, it would have been my last wish if  I were to fall off at the end of the earth. 

Our private four-seater aircraft hummed along uneventfully until the pilot pointed out our landing strip.  Shock, horror, it was as big as a postage stamp – how on earth are we going to land this Piper Arrow was my immediate concern.  As we approached the strip, it was evident that the rudimentary runway was part of the Margaret River vineyard estate.   Contrary to all fears, the soft landing effortlessly executed by the experienced pilot, performs this maneuver at least six times daily.  

Margaret River is home to special Australian wines.  So whilst pilot checks his aircraft for our next haul, we imbibe on the region’s premium wines.   Few locations are suited to producing distinctive premium wine.  Vines planted 45 years ago, the near perfect growing conditions have enabled Margaret River to quickly become recognized as one of the worlds great fine wine regions. The region is often compared to Bordeaux (in France) due to its climate conditions.  The Cabernet Sauvignon and Cabernet blends are prized for their dense fruit flavors multi-layered complexity and cellaring potential.   But the Shiraz had me at hello.  

With a total of 138 vineyards in Margaret River, and only 137 left to taste, my pilot has fueled, aircraft checked, and having been waiting for sometime beckoned for us to take our leave before sunset.  I wrenched myself away from the Shiraz, in a state of vino-haze, we boarded the plane for our destination, Albany.

Albany has an important,  though somewhat controversial, role in the ANZAC legend, being the last port of call for troopships departing Australia in the First World War.

  

Albany is known for many things but probably not known for its Sandalwood and Emu Oil.   Sandalwood provides perfumes with a striking wood base note.  Its Oil is used in all  major religions, Buddhism, Hinduism, Islam, Japanese and Chinese religions, and even the Zoroastrians all use Sandalwood Oil for religious rites, joss sticks, oinments.     In India, it is considered an alternative medicine to bring one closer to the divine.  

 Its essential oil and paste is used for Ayurvedic purposes of treating anxiety.    Zorastrians use Sandalwood for their sacred Fire Temple, and Sandalwood joss sticks are used in Budhhist  ceremonies.    

And would you believe that Australian Aboriginals 

eat the seed  kernels, nuts and 

fruit of local sandalwoods.

When I first met Steve Birbeck, he was heavily into Emu oils, an ingenious oil from the Emu bird that the Aboriginals protected themselves from the harsh elements and acted as a conduit for medical herbs entering the skin through its small molecular structure.   He has since moved on to the more lucrative Sandalwood Oil although Emu Oil is still very much a part of Mount Romance products.  

In the Australian outback, where the red earth meets the fragrant Sandalwood tree and the purest ingredients are found, ancient use of the oil as antiseptic was taken orally, another favored treatment  was for venereal disease until the introduction of modern antibiotics.

Having arrived at the end of the earth, I found many local remedies that would take me further afield in my journey as Christopher Columbus did discover that the earth 

was round 

                   and I was not 
                                            going to fall off 
                                                                              at the 
                                                                                             edge.