Oh my gosh; I'm still tired from yesterday!
But today, the apartment and our bed & bath downstairs need a thorough cleaning. I put on my least favorite clothes and loaded up on the elbow grease. We've been here a couple of weeks, and things are looking a little too lived in. There is hard water, so unless you're wiping things down all the time (or if only one person is, LOL), there's some anticalcare work to do.
Lugging the bucket, broom, mop, and cleaning supplies, I got both levels shiny clean and fresh smelling.
I handwashed a few things. Joe took his laundry to Andrea, who brought it up, clean and damp and ready to hang on our line.
Then I changed into more presentable attire, and asked Joe if he felt like getting wine and other heavy stuff from the store. The Cleo was available, so she and Joe had a joyous reunion.
We made our menu and vino decisions, checked out the beautiful fish counter, deciding to wait until tomorrow for that; paid, and packed up. At the car, Joe asked if I were walking home. He knows I need my exercise and outdoor time! Good idea, I told him, and pivoted toward the road.
We've often passed a place called Acqua & Sapone, seeing customers leave with laundry soap, shampoo, paper towels -- there's a big store for just home and body washing? Years later, I decided to venture in.
Acqua & Sapone
The tidy Chinese store
I'm always extra careful here. Many memorial photos and bouquets are posted on this intersection.
Yes and they have those washing items, and also hair color, rollers, perfume, irons, some kitchen and bathroom cleaning tools, amongst other things. I'm looking for a curling iron, but spaced out on the words ferro arricciacapelli, so had to explain that I forgot how to say the thing that heats up and makes my hair curly. As I said; I'm tired. The clerk was generous, and smiled, shaking her head and saying they don't sell them. Maybe try Etnapolis.
I briefly considered the "Chinese store" across the street, which always looks quite orderly, but shook my straight-haired head no, and turned home.
Rounding the sometimes-fatal intersection, ironically near the cemetery, I saw a sidewalk flower vendor selling chrysanthemums. Across the street is the memorial engraver/fabricator, and across the intersection is the cemetery.
All of a sudden, in a "Duh!" moment, I realized why I've been seeing chrysanthemums for sale everywhere (if you recall, they're a symbol of death to Italians) -- November 2nd, the Italian's Day of the Dead, is right around the corner! In fact, yesterday, Mariella spent the morning cleaning off her mom's grave. This vendor has a primo spot.
Across the intersection, an elderly man scales the steps at the cemetery
I cut through a neighborhood, past a courtyard I like, and near a completely destroyed property overrun with litter and a tree where a house may have once stood. Maybe I can afford that property?
At home, Joe and I had a light lunch of artisan cheeses, finocchiana, sesame bread, and some leftover wild greens omelette. To finish, I made another perfect Moka of caffè, which we enjoyed with some of the lemony regina biscotti di morti we picked up today.
After spending some couch potato time writing this, I'll now take a walk to The Street of the Lawyers, which seems appropriate. There is what looks like a cute place for sale. It's always good to check out the neighborhood first.
We missed the street, partly because I finally connected and was talking to my sister. We sat in the community park while I finished my call, then backtracked.
The apartment runs perpendicular to the Villa Favare, where the Etna Wine Forum was held, and around the corner from Rosalba's place on the same block.
Joe was asking me which was what apartment, where did it stop and start, and which garage went with it. I was trying to explain and not doing very well. I looked up the realtor's site and started reading it, when a guy who looked a lot like Vincenzo and Mariella's friend, Nuccio, walked up and asked if we wanted to see the place. We shrugged. Sure we would!
We got a tour. It's cute and has definite possibilities. A shared (half/half) rooftop terrace, a private apartment terrace, and a long balcony. 3 bedrooms, 2 bathrooms (1 full, one with just a sink and toilet), a large salon and a smaller room that could be a dining room. It needed cosmetic brightening, such as new wallpaper or paint, and, as I've noted previously, Italians move their kitchens like furniture. In this place, we'd need a kitchen AND furniture. I checked prices at LUBE and Conforama; for this space, you could very nicely outfit the whole kitchen for about €3000 -- not terrible. We'd have to find someone to do all the hook ups (gas, water, electric). There are two problematic issues:
One, the main bathroom has a handwritten sign above the toilet, indicating (as we've seen in many restaurant and train station bathrooms; not totally unusual --) to please throw toilet paper in the trash and not flush it. Man; that's a bummer. Maybe a plumber could fix it, and maybe we could find one to do it, and maybe it wouldn't be expensive.
Secondly, the guy actually is Nuccio. I feel stupid, because I just saw him last night. But in the non-Daylight Savings Time darkness, he actually looked much younger, and the situation was completely out of context, and we rarely interact with him, especially since we've only seen him a handful of times. Even then, it's been in a crowd.
Anyway, that major faux pas aside, I marveled at how he showed up at that exact moment we were in front of the apartment. If I hadn't taken my sister's call, would we have avoided this? And now we're tangled into a personal-friends web. I very much prefer the anonymity of realtors I don't know, or who know me well enough to know what to expect. I'm an outrageously difficult realty client, even when speaking my default language and looking at houses in the States.
It doesn't look like much from the outside. Part of the rooftop terrace shows in the upper left. The middle brown door would be our garage. The entrance to the staircase (no elevator; it's only one floor up) is the door on the right. Private interior terrace sits above an open center courtyard. There are large windows on both sides, for a good breeze.
But, I'm determined to plow ahead. I will ask Elena for advice.
Joe is an incredible sounding board. The price of the place we just saw is €20,000 - 40,000 less than others we've seen, and €50,000 less than Rosalba's, which got me excited. At first. Joe pointed out that her place is solar heated, renovated, modernized and functioning, has a full kitchen, and comes completely furnished. We could easily end up paying near the cost of Rosalba's apartment once we fix what needs doing at Nuccio's daughter's place, once we buy the kitchen and outfit the place with furniture, and once we pay a few of those non-solar electric bills. And Rosalba's apartment has twice the amount of space for what might be a similar expenditure. When he pointed it out that way, things took on a different light. The Nuccio place sure could be cute when I finish with it, though.
It's worth sleeping on. But first, I need to make dinner. When I'm fussing over a hurdle like this, I eat. Between house hunting and Mariella's cooking, I may come home with a new dress size.
Pasta e pistacchio o pasta e ceci? I asked Joe, saying that's what we have ingredients for. And though we just had Elena's "Bixby"/Chickpea dish the other day, he chose pasta e ceci. My friend, Scott Jorgensen, just asked me for this recipe, since I brought it to him for lunch as he recently recovered from major surgery. It's one of Joe's favorites; my grandpa liked it, and it seems Scott does as well.
We ate heartily, cheerfully talking about houses, and we continually returned to talking about Rosalba's place. We leave for a side trip to Tuscany in a few days, but when we return, we should revisit and maybe say buy it or bust. It is not old-world quaint and charming, but we're also not spring or even summer chickens who are up for doing all the renovation work. Besides, it's a lovely place. The natural light pouring in is beautiful in and of itself.
So, as I did with Scott's earlier message to me, I'll leave you with the recipe for pasta e ceci, as I sign off at what is actually, for once, a decent hour:
PASTA E CECI
2 swirls olive oil
1 small onion, peeled, chopped
1 lg stick celery, chopped (compulsory to include leaves)
1 garlic clove, minced
2 sprigs fresh rosemary leaves, finely chopped
2 cans chickpeas, drained and rinsed (save one rinsed-out can)
3 (+/-) cups homemade or at least good chicken stock
1/2 box ditalini (200-225 grams)
Fresh parsley or basil, snipped up a bit
Heat a large soup pan, medium-low heat, and add olive oil. Saute the onion, celery, and garlic, covered, until soft and translucent, about 15 minutes.
Add rosemary leaves, chickpeas and stock, bring to a low boil. Simmer uncovered for 20 minutes until the chickpeas are soft. Remove half the chickpeas (or what fits in your saved can) with a slotted spoon, and purée the remaining soup in a blender or with an immersion blender. Return the purée and reserved chickpeas to the pot, then add in the pasta.
Cook until the pasta is tender (pay attention! It sticks to the bottom of the pan a LOT!), adding boiling water if necessary to loosen. Season to taste with salt and pepper and serve with fresh parsley or basil leaves on top, and a drizzle of olive oil. We dust it just a smidge with freshly ground black pepper.
Buon pranzo!
This thickens up when it cools. To reheat, boil 1/2 - 1" water in a pan, add leftovers and more water if needed, stir well until reheated. Do not overcook the pasta-- first time or when reheating. Enjoy. Again.
Comments
Post a Comment