The opening of the Cacioteca Regionale di Sicilia – the Sicilian Regional Cheese Consortium – is being celebrated during Cheese Art 2012, which includes two days of Tasting Workshops with traditional cheeses from around the world.

The Consortium works towards elevating the production of historic traditional cheeses to the status of “works of art.”  The idea is that great cheeses should be considered among Italy’s important cultural assets, holding a place beside the many works of art for which the country is famous.

During Cheese Art 2012, cheese tastings will be available with various cheese boards paired with locally sourced cured meats (priced at 14-20 euro) or you can join in the Tasting Workshops on January 28 & 29, when traditional cheeses from around the world will be paired with Sicilian wines from Cerasuolo di Vittoria and Planeta, or beers from the Baladin microbrewery of Piedmont.  Cheesemaking demonstrations will take place during the course of the event – we know this is great fun, as we include it on our Eastern Sicily walking tour.

Here are the cheese tasting menus  in Italian, or check out the listing at the end for the 2012 Cheese Art Tasting Workshops and where they are.

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Cheese Art 2012 – Cheese Tasting Workshops

Saturday January 28:

13.30 – 15.00 “Drowned in Beer”

• Robiola di Roccaverano, aged goat cheese in cherry leaves (Piedmont)
• Frumage Baladin (Piedmont)
• Piacentinu Ennese DOP, sheeps milk with saffron (Sicily)
• Perdido Cheese (Usa
• Vezzena di malga (Trentino Alto Adige)
• Castelmagno d’alpeggio (Piedmont)
• Roquefort (France)

Paired with artisanal beers from Baladin
Cost  €24,00

19.30 -21.00 “European Breeds”

• Camembert (France)
• Queso de la Tetilla (Spain
• Provola dei Nebrodi (Sicily)
• Aged Pecorino di Farindola (Abruzzo)
• Salers (France)
• Goat Cheddar Quickes (England)
• Erborinato sheep cheese, alpi cozie (Piedmont)

Paired with Planeta wines

Sunday January 29:
11.30 – 13.30 “Brunch Cheeselandia”
 Brunch prepared by Accursio Craparo (chef of 1-star Michelin restaurant La Gazza Ladra  in Modica) and Corrado Assenza, the pastry chef of Caffè Sicilia in Noto, and will end with this cheese board:
 

• Mozzarella di bufala (Sicily)
• Organic Robiola from “happy goats”(Veneto)
• Ragusano DOP, aged and semi-aged (Sicily
• Beaufort (Francia)
• Red Cheddar (England)
• Stilton (England)
  Paired with wines from Planeta, and the Consortium of  Cerasuolo di Vittoria  as well as artisan beers from microbrewery Baladin
  Cost  €35,00

19.30 – 21.00 “European Pastures”

• St. Nectaire (France)
• Manchego (Spain)
• Raschera DOP d’Alpeggio (Piedmont)
• Tuma persa (Sicily)
• Monte Veronese d’allevo DOP di malga (Veneto)
• Blue deTermignon (France)
• Blu capriziola, goat cheese (Lombardy)
  Paired with Sicilian wines from the Consortium Cerasuolo di Vittoria
  Cost €24,00

Details:
To reserve in advance, fill in the online form  or phone:
Tel. +39.0932.660.427

Located at km 5 on the SP 25, the main road from Ragusa to Marina di Ragusa.
E-mail: info@corfilac.it

The many facets of Italian regional cooking are to be celebrated January 17, during the 2012 International Day of Italian Cuisines (IDIC).  This year’s official dish is ossobuco, and cooks from all over the world are invited to make this dish and send in their photos.  You can sign-up to participate, or just make it because you feel like it.

Ossobuco, which means “hollow bone”, is a traditional dish from Milan, and is made with veal shanks that are slowly braised in a rich broth.  At the end of cooking, the traditional ossobuco recipe calls for the veal shanks to be topped with a finely minced gremolata of lemon rind, parsley and garlic. 

The marrow of the bone is considered a delicacy and is meant to be scooped out and eaten, in delicious ignorance of its cholesterol content.  The milanesi actually have a long handled spoon just for this purpose, which has the amusing name of esattore - tax collector.  

 Ossobuco is a rich dish that is often served with the equally rich risotto alla milanese, but I like it with simple polenta or mashed potatoes to soak up every bit of flavorful sauce. 

The veal shanks themselves should be tender and juicy, or as poet Billy Collins described “soft as the leg of an angel / who has lived a purely airborne existence”. 

I’m not sure what Billy was drinking when he wrote that, but you can try to reach these lofty heights with the ossobuco recipe at the end of this post.  A good bottle of Barbaresco should do the rest.

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Ossobuco Recipe

This is an adaptation of the official 2012 dish of the IDIC

Prep Time: 10 minutes

Cook Time: 2 hours, 15 minutes

Total Time: 2 hours, 25 minutes

Yield: 4-6

Ingredients

• 4-6 hind veal shanks, 2” (5 cm) thick, 5” (10 cm) wide
• 4 oz. (100 g) celery finely diced
• 4 oz. (100 g) carrot finely diced
• 4 oz. (100 g) onion finely chopped
• 4 oz. (100 g) butter
• 4 TB olive oil
• ½ lb (200 g) peeled plum tomatoes, chopped
• 1 qt (1 liter) veal broth
• 10 oz (300 ml) white wine
• For the Gremolata:
• 3 strips organic lemon rind, chopped fine
• 1 TB flat-leaf parsley, chopped fine
• 1 clove garlic, peeled and minced

Cooking Directions

1. Heat the oil and butter in an ovenproof pan that is just large enough to tightly hold the veal shanks in one layer.
2. Pat the veal shanks dry with a paper towel, and sear them in the butter and oil over medium heat, turning to brown evenly.
3. Reduce the heat on low, remove the veal shanks and set aside.
4. Over a low flame, sauté the carrots, celery and onion in the same pan, scraping the bottom with a large spoon to mix in any brown bits, being careful this "soffritto" doesn’t burn.
5. When the "soffritto" vegetables are soft, add the wine and turn up the heat.
6. Stir occasionally until wine is almost evaporated, then add the tomato and broth and stir to blend.
7. Heat to a boil.
8. Place the browned veal shanks in one layer in the pan, and spoon some of the vegetables over the top-the shanks should be covered with the broth.
9. Cover the pan and place over a very low flame for about 90 minutes (or place in preheated oven at 350° F (180° C) .
10. Remove the cover and cook for another 30 minutes.
11. Finely mince the lemon rind, parsley and garlic together – this is the "gremolata" which will used just before serving.
12. When the veal is done, place the shanks on a warm platter and skim excess fat from pan, and bring to a simmer, adding a bit more broth if it is too dry.
13. Add salt and pepper to taste.
14. Spoon the sauce over the veal, sprinkle with the gremolata mixture and serve with polenta or mashed potatoes.
15. Drink a good bottle of Barbaresco and float away-

If you hear food vendors at a Sicilian market shouting bastardoni - big bastards – don’t be offended.  They’re just hawking their wares, which are autumn prickly pears from cactus plants. 

The wild and wonderful food markets in Sicily are a blast to shop in and we always look forward to buying a case of bastardoni.  These are the fattest, most succulent fruit of the cactus plant, harvested in the fall in eastern Sicily.

The smaller variety of prickly pears, sometimes known as agostani for the fact that they ripen in August, are generically known as fichi d’India - Indian figs. They do not come from India nor have any relation to figs, which goes to show you that you can name things any way you want, but what’s important is eating them. 

The bastardoni are the most highly prized prickly pears because they are bigger and juicier, and are a result of cutting off the first cactus flowers in late spring, a procedure known as the scozzolatura.  This results in a second flowering of the cactus plant.  The fruits then ripen in the fall during the rainier season, which produces juicy plump fruits.  

Cactus plants were often grown as a sort of fence between neighbors in Sicily, and the prickly pear fruits were a handy thirst-quenching  treat when working in the fields.

According to a Sicilian legend, the practice of the scozzolatura began because of a feud over property lines between neighboring farmers.  In a fit of anger, one farmer cut off the flowers of his neighbor’s cactus, in an attempt to destroy his neighbor’s prickly pear crop. Instead, the cactus bore fruit later in the season, and the prickly pears were much larger and juicier than normal.  Soon the practice of the scozzolatura became widespread, and this “bastardized” version of prickly pears was born.   In some areas of eastern Sicily, there are now cactus plantations that are irrigated, which produce the beautiful bastardoni found in Sicilian markets through December.  

If you want to try eating bastardoni, the first step is to peel it, or better yet, get someone to do the peeling for you.  The peel is studded with fine prickly spines that like to imbed themselves in delicate flesh, and can be an uncomfortable nuisance for days.  Many Sicilian restaurants serve seasonal fruit including prickly pears, so you can let the waiter peel and you just taste.   

Cutting back the peel, you’ll be surprised by the color of the prickly pear fruit, which can be deep yellow, pure white, or a stunning crimson.  The fruit has a slight floral  fragrance reminiscent of citrus, and a very mild flavor, like a pear with an identity crisis.  The juicy pulp is punctuated by an enormous number of seeds that Sicilians simply swallow. It is not a fruit to everyone’s taste, but big bastards seldom are.

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When the almond trees are in blossom in Sicily, it is a glorious sight.  Beginning in late January and through the early days of March, the cool green hills are bedecked in lacey blossoms in shades of pure white to delicate pink.  The air is sweetly perfumed and bees are buzzing.  It’s already spring.

On the other hand, the almond harvest takes place in the heat of summer, so forget cool and green, and think Dante’s Inferno. The August sun is fierce, the earth baked dry.  Still, I wanted to experience the almond harvest, and Francesco Padova of the Mastri San Basilio farm, willingly obliged. 

I am not sure why people who are not farmers often have a romantic idea of agriculture, and are prone to exclaiming “Oh, wouldn’t it be fun to take part in the grape harvest!  Or “ How wonderful to go olive picking!”  Their enthusiasm quickly wanes once they are covered with mud, miserably damp, and have stiff fingers aching from the cold.  Not once have I heard anyone thrill to the idea of almond picking, and now I know why.

I follow Francesco’s car to where his great-grandfather first farmed in the late 1800’s, near Ispica in southeastern Sicily.  The hills are chalky and grey, looking nearly white in the harsh sunshine.  Once we’ve parked along a quiet road, I open the door of my air-conditioned car to a blast of oven-hot air, and wonder what I’ve gotten myself into. 

Francesco leads the way on foot up a steep rough track, through groves of almond trees that have already lost many of their leaves.  Underfoot the finely tilled earth is soft but dry as a bone, and my shoes are soon covered in grey dust.  Above my head, the  outer husks of the almonds – which were once as plump as little peaches – have shriveled and split, and the precious almonds are protruding.  It feels strangely sad and forlorn yet bountiful at the same time. 

At the top of the hill, I am drenched in sweat, and glad to find a carob tree that provides some shade.  Francesco leads me to an overlook that looks out onto an intensely cultivated landscape, where the bare fields are resting in the August heat. 

I’d normally be thankful for a breeze but here on the hilltop a hot wind is blowing – the scirocco from Africa – and it feels as though I’m standing in front of a full-length  hairdryer.  We retreat to the shade.

Francesco speaks in measured tones, calmly explaining the ins and outs of almonds as beads of sweat trickle down my back.  We are in a grove of fascionello almond trees, which along with the prized pizzuta cultivar, are able to thrive in this arid climate.  The fruits survive the intense Sicilian heat by growing an extremely thick, hard shell that protects the intensely flavored almond seed inside.  In fact, the shell amounts to 80% of the whole almond’s weight. 

Francesco warns that it is impossible to open these almonds with a nutcracker – the farm has a special machine for this, and sells most of its almonds already shelled.

By comparison, California grown almonds have only a 40% shell weight, but their almonds contain less oil and as a result, less flavor.  It’s a trade-off that Francesco seems happy to make.  

At last we hear a motor and the almond harvester arrives.  It has a tractor-like section in the rear with a yellow contraption up front that resembles a huge upside-down umbrella.   

Within the folds of the umbrella, are two thick metal arms covered with rubber, which reach out and grasp the trunk of a tree.  The umbrella unfolds to form a big cup-like sack, and suddenly a loud motor kicks on.  The ground beneath my feet trembles, the tree shakes furiously, leaves fly up in the air, and almonds land neatly in the sack.   It only lasts a few seconds, like a mini-earthquake. 

Francesco explains that with this method – manned by 2 or 3 people – they can harvest as much as what 40 men could do by hand, or about 600 trees in a day.  When there are 15,000 trees to harvest, it makes sense. 

A few of the smaller trees with slender trunks still get the hand-picked treatment, which consists of whacking the branches with a wooden pole, then collecting the almonds that fall to the ground. The fellow that does this has skin darkened from the sun, and is amazingly energetic, filling a bucket in a short time, then jogging off to dump them in the machine’s sack.  Finding 40 men like this would be no easy task.

Later the harvested almonds are separated from the leaves and left to dry in the sun for a few days, until they “sound right.” When ready to be harvested, the almond will rattle in the shell.  If you listen to it carefully, the rattle will be soft, like a tiny thud.  Once it has dried in the sun, the rattle will become like a sharp tapping noise.  This is a signal that the almond is truly ready.  It can be stored without fear of getting moldy. 

Since I’m obviously a glutton for punishment, Francesco gives me a kilo of whole almonds so that I can attempt to open them.  Being around all these almonds has given me a hankering to make traditional Sicilian almond milk.   

 “Let me know how it goes”  he says.  Later, when I am struggling to open the the almonds by bashing them with a rock, I wonder how he managed to say that with a straight face.

It’s now close to noon, and is getting hotter by the second.  As the top of my head feels like it’s about to burst into flames, I say goodbye to Francesco. 

My car is parked in the sun, and is like a blast furnace inside.  I’ve learned a lot about the almond harvest, but also that being hot in Sicily is a relative thing.  I drive home with the windows down, enjoying the African wind.

Details:  Mastri San Basilio pizzuta almonds can be purchased in Ragusa Ibla at Gelati Divini or by mail order in the USA at Zingerman’s.

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Colomba Easter Cake

San Sebastiano Festival

Magical Mandrake Plant

There are many patron saint festivals in Italy, but few can top the festival of San Sebastiano – St. Sebastian – in Sicily. 

San Sebastiano is most often depicted as a young martyr tied to a post, wearing only a loincloth, and bearing a strangely serene expression for someone who is stuck through with arrows.  Shooting him with arrows was actually the first attempt at killing him for his Christian beliefs, and after being nursed back to health, he went off to harangue the Roman emperor Diocletian for persecuting Christians, and was promptly clubbed to death.  So, a serene but belligerent martyr he was.

San Sebastiano is the patron saint of the Sicilian town of Palazzolo Acreide, about a 40 minute drive from where I  live in eastern Sicily.  I had heard much about this festival and finally the timing was right, so off I went with Emanuele & friends in tow.

The two most intriguing things about this festival are the “sciuta”, Sicilian for the “exit” or when the San Sebastiano statue on a gilded cart exits the church, carried on the shoulders of an army of men dressed in white and red.  I was told that there was much fanfare and it was “molto, molto bello.”   I’m used to the Sicilian’s fondness for exaggeration, and figured it would be similar to many festivals I had already seen.  Boy, was I wrong.  

The second intriguing thing, that borders on the bizarre, is that little babies, who are often stripped naked – apparently this is to echo the nudity of San Sebastiano – are offered up to the saint’s statue as a kind of blessing to protect them.  The babies might wear a necklace bearing banknotes that are pinned to the outside of the cart, but donations of coins are also accepted. 

Join in the celebrations as these pictures depict how the festival of San Sebastiano unfolds.

When first arriving in town, we are met with a line of bancarelle, stands selling an assortment of stuff, from straw hats to ward off the hot sun to cheap plastic toys made in China to entice the hoards of children into pestering their parents.  Sales are slow.

But we are looking for tradition and folklore, and soon we find it outside the church steps.  There is a cart selling cuddure, ring-shaped breads that celebrate the wheat harvest in August.  Bakeries donate these breads to the festival, and the money from purchases goes to finance the celebrations. 

Soon a band starts playing and a parade starts, and the festive atmosphere heats up. 

Finally a few loud firecrackers announce that the sciuta is happening soon, and everyone squeezes into the piazza in front of the church.  The sun is fierce and tensions are high – I argue with a tall guy who pushes in front of me, and he agrees to squat so that I can see over his head.  And then the sciuta begins.

The first moments of the sciuta are electrifying.  Some of the men who will help to carry the statue call out with arms raised exhorting San Sebastiano to come out of the church.  Just as the cart reaches the doorway a series loud explosions are accompanied by violent sprays of ‘nzareddi, colored paper ribbons.

The continued explosions are deafening and the church is obscured in a swirl of colors and smoke, while people shout and raise their fists in the air.  I’m in the midst of a psychedelic bombardment, and as the crowd surges forward, I lose Emanuele in a whirl of colors. My heart is pounding,  my hands are shaking and it’s hard to keep the camera still. 

 Finally the colors part, the smoke clears and we can see the cart of San Sebastiano!

I follow the cart as it is carried through the town, and babies are held up to receive the blessings of San Sebastiano, who becomes their protector.  Sometimes the babies are stripped naked, mimicking the nudity of the saint.  As they are lifted up to the heavens, the crowd rejoices, Viva San Sebastiano!  I’m swept up in the soaring energy.

Not all the babies are as thrilled as the spectators.   I almost feel like crying, too.

As the statue of San Sebastiano heads down a side street, the piazza is suddenly overrrun with children frolicking in the ribbons of paper, while a priest and other devotees walk solemnly through the riot of colors.  A few diligent workers are busily dumping buckets of water on little fires that have sprung up in the paper ribbons. 

All in all it was one of the most emotional patron saint celebrations I’ve witnessed in Italy, an exuberant but exhausting experience.

I find Emanuele & friends, and babbling excitedly like children, we head off to lunch.

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The festival of San Sebastiano takes place on August 10 in Palazzolo Acreide in eastern Sicily. but other festivities go on for a week.  Check the website for a calendar of events.

I have had great success making a colomba pasquale – Italian Easter dove cake – in a round pan, which is not the traditional shape but it tastes delicious.  The colomba, or dove, is a symbol of peace, and there are cake molds available in a dove shape. Lacking just such a cake mold, I tried shaping the dove free-form, which looked like a pretty good imitation of a peaceful dove before I put it in the oven. But once it was baked, it ended up looking like a turtle hit by a car. It didn’t bake evenly either, so I’ve gone back to the round pan - it makes a perfect cake and I can be peaceful while it’s baking. 

While not difficult to make, the colomba needs plenty of rising time, so do this when you are planning to spend the good part of a day at home.

Start by mixing warm milk, yeast and some flour with a teaspoon of sugar to make a sponge, and let it rise until doubled, about 30 minutes.

Next mix eggs, lemon and orange zest, vanilla and melted butter, then beat in the sponge. Add more flour to make a soft dough, and turn out on board to knead until smooth. Add sultanas or raisins. (Many colomba recipes call for candied fruit, which not everyone likes, so I eliminate it and add sultanas).

Place the dough in a buttered bowl and leave to rise until doubled, about 1 hour.

Fold the risen dough over itself several times and place in desired cake pan – I used one large springform pan, or you can make 2 smaller cakes or 2 traditional colombe dove shapes.

Cover and let rise until doubled, 60-90 minutes. Do not be impatient – complete rising will reward you with a beautiful light cake.

Now, for the part that makes this cake so good – the crunchy almond glaze. Note: The quality of the almonds is of utmost importance here. I use the excellent pizzuta almonds grown not far from where I live in eastern Sicily. (Pizzuta almonds from the Mastri San Basilio farm can be found in specialty shops around the world, and are top quality.)

In a food processor, grind whole almonds with sugar, then blend in egg white and cornstarch. Carefully spoon the almond glaze over the risen dough, being careful not to press on the dough and deflate it. Scatter whole almonds over the surface of the cake, and sprinkle with confectioners sugar.

Bake in preheated oven until cake tester is clean, covering top of cake with aluminum foil if almond glaze begins to get too dark.

This is a soft, fragrant cake that does not keep for more than 3 days- but surely you will have eaten it all by then! And I see no reason why this cake has to be made only at Easter – it is wonderful with morning coffee or afternoon tea.

For the complete recipe, go to Italian Easter Cake.

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Italian chocolate makers Caffarel and Domori of Piedmont, as well as Maglio chocolates of Puglia, are in trouble for being square. 

At least that is what German chocolate maker Ritter claims, who first launched the square chocolate bar in 1932, when Clara Ritter suggested to her husband that they make a chocolate bar that would fit into jacket pockets without breaking.

Ritter has threatened to fine a German online chocolate seller 20,000 euro if it continues to  sell  square-shaped chocolate bars from other manufacturers.

The artistic director of  CioccolaTò, Turin’s most important chocolate fair, argues that elemental shapes such as the square cannot be patented. 

A protest is being planned at the chocolate fair, where international chocolate makers as well as the chocolate-loving public will pose in a square shape for a photo to be sent to Ritter.  Billed as a “Sweet Human Square”, the photo is meant to put an end to Ritter’s very square chocolate battle.

Other stories about food in Italy:

Sicily’s Onion Festival

St. Joseph’s Food Auction

660 properties will be open to the public throughout Italy during a weekend sponsored by FAI,  the Italian National Trust.  This year, in honor of Italy’s 150th anniversary, the 2011 weekend includes places linked to the Risorgimento in Italy, as well as bicycle rides, guided walking tours through nature reserves, and visits to archeological sites and gardens. Many sites are not normally open to the public, so here’s your chance to get a peek into Italy’s hidden treasures. 

You are encouraged to make a donation of your choice to FAI, which goes toward the restoration of important historical properties and gardens, as well as an educational program in Italian schools promoting knowledge and pride in Italy’s vast cultural and historical heritage.  

Visits to many sites are available in several languages, with Italian school kids as your guides – in my past experience, they have been excellent and enthusiastic tour guides to these unique attractions.  Dates are March 26 & 27, 2011.  The FAI website has a complete listing of open sites in every region of Italy – just click on the map of Italy for a list of properties and hours.

Read about other unique attractions in Italy:

Mysterious Muragghi of Sicily

Stalking the Magical Mandrake Plant

A little bit of rain does not keep the bidders out of the piazza in Santa Croce Camerina, a small town in southeastern Sicily that is known for its lavish St. Joseph’s day celebrations. Sure there are processions, but food is the centerpiece. 

Walking three blocks from the parking lot, there are cooking smells pouring out of kitchen windows, with sugar laden desserts, aromatic tomato sauce, and yeasty breads mingling into a thick food fug. By the time I reach the piazza, I’m dizzy.

My goal is the food auction, which starts at 9.30 am, and continues for most of the day, with a break for lunch, presumably to attempt to consume some of the huge quantity of goods purchased at auction.  Just the cheese table alone is a sight to behold as it groans under the weight of 20 kilo loaves of caciocavallo, heaps of freshly made provola, and wheels of pecorino studded with peppercorns.  And cheese is just the beginning.  There are cases of strawberries, eggplant, fennel and oranges, hand-picked bunches of wild asparagus and mustard tops, and baskets of citron that look like huge knobby lemons, and are eaten in thin slices dipped in salt. 

I am invited back stage at the auction to survey the goods, and find baskets of the prized carob-tree mushroom, carefully frozen in the fall and now fetching a handsome price.  There are innumerable piles of San Giuseppe festival breads, in traditional shapes decorated with flowers or shaped like St. Joseph’s cane.  While I am busy surveying the abundance of produce, a burlap bag at my feet begins to move and I am cautioned not to step on the (live) rabbit.  Someone hands a whole pork thigh to the auctioneer, and then a fellow shows up with his young son and a live baby goat.  The goat, being frisky, is quickly moved to the front of the auction line.  Rather than being sad about parting with it, the young boy is obviously  proud of the fact that a man immediately bids on it.   After parting with 30 euros, the man wrestles the goat into his car, and drives away with a baa.

We take a break from the food auction to check out some of the tavolate – laden tables – set up in private homes, where townspeople playing the part of la sacra famiglia - the holy family- will be guests at a festive lunch, and then take home a tower of homemade sweets.  The  presentations are breathtaking, and I am accompanied by Leonardo, a 15-year old nephew who, like 15 year olds the world over, is perpetually hungry. His eyes are popping out of his head at all the sweets and he whispers, “are you sure we can’t eat any of this?” as his hand hovers over a plate of little cassatelle, ricotta tarts. I share his pain, so hustle him out before I give in to temptation and ask him to grab me one, too. 

Once out in the street we head forlornly back to the auction, and reach the piazza just at the moment they are auctioning off a tray of arancini.  Leonardo gasps and we lunge forward to have our bids heard, and are stunned when no one outbids our screams of “quindici, quindici”!  We are soon the proud owners of 10 arancini.  We waste no time in moving to a corner of the piazza, and giggle gleefully as we each grab an arancino. They are still warm.  The first bite is the point of the arancino, perfectly crusty and not too oily, the rice inside creamy and fragrant. The second bite hits the meaty filling, and a thick string of warm cheese flops onto my chin.  “Buono” I swoon.  “Buonissimo” responds Leonardo. We grin with our mouths full.  Forget the processions-now this is what I call a feast day.

Read similar stories:
Weeds for Cheese-The Caciocavallo Trade
Horses Cloaked in Flowers at St Joseph’s Day Parade

All state run museums in Italy will be free on March 17, 2011 in celebration of Italy’s 150th anniversary.  This includes all archeological sites and state parks, so wherever you are in Italy, there will be a vast choice.  In addition, several important sites will be open the night of March 16 including:

Turin:  l’Armeria Reale, la Galleria Sabauda and  Palazzo Reale
Milan: la Pinacoteca di Brera
Florence: la Galleria degli Uffizi, la Galleria Palatina, la Galleria dell’Accademia
Rome: Palazzo Barberini, Castel Sant’Angelo, Monumento Nazionale a Vittorio Emanuele II
Naples: Palazzo Reale

There will be all-night parties on March 16 in many Italian cities, so join in the celebrations and get a free dose of culture, too.

The fun continues with the San Giuseppe festivities on March 19.