Italian Espresso vs American Coffee...What not to order on your next trip to Italy

I grew up watching those Hogan's Heroes episodes ... they'd stand around...wishing for something hot and then spit out whatever it was they'd be served, usually coffee. BC Comics called it swill. With all that bad press, it's a wonder how any of us grew up to be coffee drinkers. And while I'll take an Illy Caffè Italian cappuccino over any coffee in all 50 states (okay...well maybe excluding New Orleans), when you happen upon a good cuppa...it's really not so bad.

But ask any Italian, and for as long as I can remember...they would wince at the mere thought of taking a sip from that horrid cup of "extra long" used bathwater...And this, I believe, is the true reason why Starbucks didn't make such a swift move into the Bel Paese. In all these years, I never really got into the down and murky dirtiness...to convince Italians otherwise. Who was I to explain that the real reason they were disgusted by Caffè Americano had nothing to do with American coffee? At all.

But then, I was talking to a friend's teenage son who had just come back from NYC. When I asked him what he liked about his trip he said..with a note of surprise in his voice, "I thought the coffee was amazing." While I also think his tastebuds were distracted from the idea of camping out on a plush sofa with freewifi at a a local Starbucks...versus downing a 1 inch high sip standing at a bar counter...I could see his point. Up til now, his version of Caffè Americano was basically the water that is left at the bottom of my Bialetti coffee pot -- after I've already bubbled up the contents and poured it into my cappuccino.

So after 25-odd years, I'm going to finally come clean for the Italian people, and...for all the unsuspecting American tourists who come to Italy - begging for a super long Caffè Americano:

No...An American Coffee is NOT the end result of an espresso machine that's forced to urinate all the leftover water, calcium deposits and murky espresso bean slime until it's a faint yellowish piddle flowing into your cup.

Baristas still seem to think that that's what we do in America. Just add water. Instead, American coffees are left to soak up their Burnt Sienna grounds...percolate, so to speak. [We actually get a bigger hit of caffeine than from a standard espresso because of that.] So..you try an American Coffee at your peril. You begin to beg for something that represents prehistoric swill.

Recently, an American couple breezed into one of the bars on the Appian Way and asked for a big ol' cuppa Joe to Go. They grabbed their Monster-sized cups (by espresso standards, anyway) and took off before I could warn them that what they ordered...wasn't quite an American brew. I found their (full) cups in a bin not much further along.

And so I've now come full circle on the Starbucks in Italy idea...Because, if you could actually serve up real American coffee...who knows? It might just catch on.

POSTSCRIPT:  It's 2018 & I just had the experience of ordering a 4.80 "Latte" -- Starbucks has only opened in Milano...and, as I predicted on my Facebook Page @IrreverentItaly , prices were going to be on the up & up -- It's started.

In any case, if you would like to make your own cuppa espresso –– check out the selection of the best of the best! Their team ground, tamped and frothed their way through market leaders to find which machines delivered expert results through an intuitive and user-friendly design. Check it out here
But, do the planet a favor...and stay away from the pods...per favore..

Italy-Themed Books & Italian Expat Writers - Great Reads

As I mentioned in the Dove Sono? section of my blog page (right hand column), this past weekend I had the great fortune to be invited to a wonderful literary event to showcase my book.  It was hosted in the garden of Rome's cozy Beehive Hotel (whose owners, Linda&Steve also run the website Cross-Pollinate & proffer excellent information about places to & fro on their blogs.  Our other hostess with the mostest was the inimitable Michelle Fabio, (blogger of Bleeding Espresso & house mother to many kids - goats, that is, whose antics are featured on her site Goat Berries and co-founder of World Nutella Day!) now co-editor & chief marketeer of Gemelli Press, a boutique publishing company based in Seattle, Washington / Calabria, Italy that combines the dual passions of literature & all things Italian.  
Note:  all of the aforementioned sites (click on the names above) sport pages and cool things on Facebook.
Michelle regaled us with brief synopses of many of their titles, and I was particularly intrigued by Wrestling with the Devil the story of a boy put on an ocean liner with nothing but provolone cheese in his pockets departing from the Naples Bay and heading for a new life in America. He was only 10. But soon found the art of wrestling...
Throughout the day, I was finally able to put faces to familiar names.  It seemed so many of us had exchanged comments on each other's blogs, read each other's works, seen the movie, tried the app.  
So here is a 2012 Who's Who in Italy Expat Writers:

Arlene Gibbs is a writer & interior decorator based in Rome.  She moved to Italy four years ago after working in Hollywood as a film executive and producer for ten years. Arlene recently co-wrote the hit American movie, JUMPING THE BROOM and self published her novel THE REBIRTH OF MRS. TRACEY HIGGINS.  

Eleonora Baldwin is an American-born, Roman-bred food & lifestyle writer.  She hung up her showbiz boots and stopwatch in 2010 after 15 years in the industry, and has since been relying on her pen, curiosity and appetite for guidance in the gastronomic bounty of the (Eternal) City she calls home. Eleonora is Chief Editor for a restaurant content company Cibando, and she offers personalized gourmet tours of the city, contributes to several online webzines, and indulges her newfound passion for photography.

Sara Rosso is an American digital strategist, writer, & photographer living in Milan, Italy. She writes about food at Ms. Adventures in Italy, about technology and growing your business at When I Have Time.com, and about healthy living at Food Blogger on a Diet.  Her photography has been featured in the Wall Street Journal and La Cucina Italiana, and her writing can be found all over the Internet as well as in Fodor's & Zagat guides. She has two books on Amazon, How to order an Italian coffee in Italy [basically, they're not called 'lattes' or ventis and you seriously don't leave with your cup in hand - considered blasphemous in these parts] and The Unofficial Guide to Nutella.  Check out her Amazon page here.

Gillian McGuire – app author, information curator, and Rome expert – has been living as an expatriate, in various countries in Africa and now in Rome since 1991. Gillian has put her insatiable curiosity and knowledge to create a great new app called Rome for Expats which  is filled with information for both newcomers and oldtimers alike.

A native of Trinidad and Tobago, author Terry H. Bhola surely never stays in one place. After an academic stint, a career in New York's sizeable publishing industry Terry ended up in Umbria, where he has published a book of his experiences there, Searching for Wild Asparagus in Umbria. One critic wondered if he wasn't an alcoholic, since the book discusses a great deal of wines - but Terry adamantly refutes the charge.  And as a fellow pet lover, I loved Terry's claim to fame to have "named all the dogs in my village in Umbria."  That's a big deal since although they are kept, dogs are not considered pets.

Flaminia Chapman was born in Texas to an Italian mother who refused to let her kids speak English until the age of 5.  That was a good thing, because at the age of 10, her family moved to Rome permanently. At school, she had to learn about dettati and pizza bianca at snacktime. Her last few years of high school and college were spent in Texas, studying abroad, and traveling as much as possible.  Flaminia moved back to Rome to work as a tour guide and Italian travel consultant.  Six years later, she decided to put all the knowledge she had accumulated over the years of working with incoming travelers into the Rome Insider's Guide app.

Writer and historian Mary Jane Cryan has the claim to fame of living in Italy since 1965, yet still considers herself an 'expat'. She celebrates her longevity with her terrific blog filled with all kinds of inside secrets:  http://50yearsinitaly.blogspot.it/  She sets up study abroad programs and works with tour operators and adult learners.  She is a contributor to scholarly journals, guidebooks (such as Eyewitness Guide to Rome and Fodor’s), print and online magazines, and she also lectures on luxury cruise ships plying the Mediterranean, Adriatic and Black Seas.  From her palazzo near Rome, she publishes history and travel books about central Italy and has received numerous awards for her website, books and conferences.  Her latest book is Etruria travel, history & itineraries.  You can read more about it off her website, Elegant Etruria.  

Erica Firpo - writer, consultant and secret baker. Her writing has appeared in publications such as Hufffington Post, The New York Times, The Guardian, LA Times, Oryx Magazine, and The American Magazine, and she has also been editor to Luxe Guide Rome and Nile Guide Rome.   Erica authored Insight Guide's Rome Select, a cultural guidebook to Rome, and authored/self-published the Little Black Book Rome (English/Danish) and Little Black Book Copenhagen.  She is also a contributor to Fodors and when Erica isn't writing, she experiments in cookies.

Pamela Sheldon Johns is the author of 16 cookbooks, primarily focused on traditional, regional Italian cuisine. She has been leading culinary workshops in Italy since 1992 and has lived here full-time since 2001.  Pamela is the owner/farmer of Poggio Etrusco, a certified-organic agriturismo in Montepulciano where she hosts cooking classes and produces a high quality organic extra-virgin olive oil.

Pamela has been featured in Travel + Leisure, on CNN.com (Tuscan food tour),  Wall Street Journal (one of the top 10 culinary guides in Europe),  Cooking Light, and Food & Wine magazine (Top Cooking Schools in Italy).  Although calm by nature, her 15-year-old daughter has now brought a lot of drama into her life right now!

Her latest book is Cucina Povera - Tuscan Peasant Cooking and you can usually catch Pamela at her Poggio Etrusco B&B (either online & off!)   

Originally from Tennessee, Linda Lappin has lived in Rome since 1978, when she first came to Italy on a Fulbright grant.  She is a novelist, poet,  travel writer, and literary translator as well as a lecturer at University of Rome La Sapienza.  She is international prose editor for the WebdelSol Review and associate editor of Serving House Books. She conducts writing workshops and retreats in Vitorchiano, at the Centro Pokkoli.  

Linda's first novel, The Etruscan, won second place in the 2010 New York Festival of Books. 

Her second novel, Katherine’s Wish, about the life of Katherine Mansfield, was a finalist for the Foreword Book of the Year Award.  And she is now busy penning her third novel, Signatures in Stone, a mystery story set in Bomarzo. Her recent travel essay, Pane & Pecorino, about the simple life in Tuscany, won the bronze medal in travel memoir from Travelers Tales. 

p.s. We have since created our own Italy Expat Writer's page on Facebook. Stop in some time!

An Expat Roster - Why Italians think we're Strange...

In Italy, foreigners are called stranieri. And the word for 'strange' is 'strano', so, much like English-speakers refer to immigrants as 'aliens', it's no wonder that in Italy, we're truly the out-of-town 'strangers'.  For anyone living anywhere abroad, our different ways of approaching pretty much everything than the locals becomes a real-life Twilight Zone for any observer.  It's a wonderful mix which always makes you wonder how life was back in ancient Rome, when people flocked to Rome from across the entire Empire.
So I was tickled pink to come across this terrific posting by a relatively new blogger (who takes breathtaking photos around her Italy), listing 10 Reasons Why Italians Think I'm Weird.  Here is Michelle's post below, but click on her SimplyItaliana.com link to get more from Michelle in Torino:

Why Italians Think I’m Weird

The intermingling of people from different cultures is bound to result in some raised eyebrows. Italians do some things that seem strange to me, and it works the other way around as well. Here are ten reasons why Italians think I’m weird:

1. I eat potato skins and the skins of fruits (apples, pears, etc.) Seriously. I’ve been met with horror-struck stares as I bring a forkful of with-skin potatoes to my mouth, spurring the starer to blurt out “It still has the skin on!” to try and save me from culinary disaster. It’s called fiber, people!

2. I eat risotto and pasta with a spoon instead of with a fork.

3. I don’t like or drink coffee. I’ve yet to meet an Italian who isn’t shocked by this revelation. Once in Salerno when I declined a coffee after dinner, my host’s sister remarked, “Tu non prendi caffè?” Questo è grave!” (You don’t drink coffee? This is serious!)

4. I like to walk around the house in just my socks, instead of wearing house shoes too. This comes from growing up in houses with rugs. I haven’t yet seen a carpet grace the floors of an Italian apartment.

5. I never saw the movie Rocky until I came to Italy. They’re crazy about him here.

6. I tend to forget and refer to black tea, green tea, raspberry tea, fennel seed tea, etc. all with the name té (tea.) People adamantly correct me, since herbal teas have another name (tisana) and the two cannot be (gasp!) lumped into the same group.

7. I’ve asked people for their sauce recipe after eating a tasty tomato sauce with pasta. This resulted in a combination of pitying looks mixed with poorly-disguised laughter. “There is no recipe!” they insist, but what they’re really thinking is, “this poor foreigner needs a road map in order to throw together oil, garlic, tomatoes, and basil!” Apparently, Italian babies are born with red sauce-making knowledge running through their veins.

8. Sometimes I cook pasta or eat dinner leftovers for breakfast.

9. I usually just drink water (also see #3.)

10. I want to live in Italy.
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And while I won't eat dinner leftovers for breakfast, some of my own eyebrow-raising traits include:  

• I laugh heartily in public
• I don't pack bathrobes in my suitcase
• I used to rollerblade -- and used all the padding I could put on (trust me, a 40-something on skates is a sight to see, but one decked out in a helmet, etc. is about as alien as one could get).
• I put cheese on my salad (which I also like to eat with the meal, when I have the choice - seeing that I have given up on before the meal)...

If you're an expat, what are yours?

Tante Belle Cose: Rome Healthcare Edition or Need a Doctor in Rome?

This month, I'd like to focus on getting good healthcare in the Bel Paese.  I often get calls from frantic parents whose kids are studying abroad, to friends who need a dentist, to fellow expats who just want a checkup and don't want to wait 9 months to do so.  So, in my April Edition of Tante Belle Cose in Italy, here's my healthcare checkup on Italy which is filled with fairly good things.

First and foremost, my friend and fellow author, Fabrizio Blini, brilliant wordsmith and sadistic satirist when it comes to all things Italian, launched his new book lambasting the Italian Hospital System: Storie di ordinaria corsia (in Italian).  After a motorino accident, he was in & out of hospital for months on end.  With his incredible  wit and indefatigable plays on words, you'll be assured a good laugh at his expense.  But, hey, Laughter is the best medicine...

Fabrizio's previous book - a scientific breakdown of the types of Italian mammas - will have you ROFL: “Mamma Mia! La mamma as a deterrent in the cultural, social & economic development of modern Italy” (in Italian only).  My alter ego edited a bilingual edition of the book for language learners (with only some of the words highlighted) for a U.S. company called Linguality.  

CAVEAT EMPTOR:  Do not purchase online from Linguality or you will never see your money nor your book again!  But editions are out there for sale on the web if you want to give it a go.

If you can read in Italian, buy both books in Italian on ibs.it or amazon.it and, for more fun reading, check out the Irreverent Italy tab (and Amazon bookstore) on my blog page.

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For those traveling in Rome and find you're in a mishap and need some fast medical attention, my advice (if you have a choice in the matter and are not rushed to a nearby hospital, where in any case, the care is usually hit or miss), would be to head over to the Aventino Medical Group right near the Circus Maximus.  They speak English, although you will still need to go round to other public hospitals or places to try your hand at getting x-rays. For a complete list of int'l doctors in Rome, check out this site:  AdoreRome.com .  

CAVEAT EMPTOR:  Do not bother your Embassy unless there's a body to bring home.  Seriously.  Our public offices are not American Express Travel centers (which wouldn't help you either).  I mean, would you knock on the White House door if you broke a leg in Washington, DC? [of course, with ObamaCare maybe you can do just that - but in 2014 and only if the Supreme Court doesn't rule against it in the interim].  But your Embassy or Consulate offices may be able to provide a list of English-speaking professionals just to get you out of their hair.

You will further note that Adore Rome's list doesn't include the Rome American Hospital, a joint venture with a Nashville institute.  I recall on a visit there that neither info nor personnel was in English, although most hospitals in Rome do their best to provide English-speaking medical assistance.  Unfortunately, by my GPS, this prestigious place seems to be located closer to Nashville than to Rome.  

I might also add that I sauntered into the public Eastman Dentistry Institute in Rome once, founded by one George Eastman (of Kodak fame).  They wouldn't take my kind (errr...Americans), even as a paying patient.  However, if you happen to be of any other extraction on earth rather than North American, they have an international receiving center for patients (esp for those from developing countries).  George is still rolling over in his grave over this one.

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And finally, if you're an expat and simply want a checkup, I have come across an excellent and thorough service being provided by Rome's Red Cross (Croce Rosso).  Called Progetto Donna or Progetto Uomo, you spend a half-day there getting every type of exam known to man.  Depending on the day you go, they also throw in specialist exams such as Endocrinology (Thyroid), Dermatology, or Eye exams.  

CAVEAT EMPTOR:  Their website is useless, their telephone rings off the hook (best to call at 8am sharp for an appt), you can't reserve via email, and the info you need prior to your visit you will find only on the day of your appt (like don't eat b'fast, etc. etc.). So, you might want to stop in first and pick up an overcopied flyer for the full scoop.


And of course, to avoid the doctor altogether...try an apple a day which, according to the Italians:  Una mela al giorno leva il medico di torno.

Italians don't drink tea

Well, that's not entirely true, but we know that espresso & cappuccino is the favorite wakeup beverage.  But anyone who has ever tried cooking an American recipe in Italy knows one thing: you better have your own set of standard teaspoons handy for that bit of salt that can make or break the dish.

guzzini posate - place setting

Of course, if you're a chef truly worth your salt, you can eyeball your teaspoons of this and that.  Recently, I held a mini brownie-making session with a roomful of Italian friends (actually unveiling my secret recipe given the difference in ingredients & ovens), but when we got to the teaspoon & tablespoon parts, things got seriously messy.  That's because the teaspoons that we Americans grew up with and that are rarely used to stir tea but are for wolfing down your Frosted Flakes, and the tablespoons you almost never use at the table are of a totally different standard than European sizes.  
The teaspoons are actually small enough to fit handily into a cup of espresso, but you can barely get three corn flakes to sit firmly on them for the time it takes you to raise your spoon from your bowl to your mouth.  
Try the tablespoon, and you realize it is only good as an assist for twirling pasta on the back of it, because going in frontwise is a wholly difficult proposition.  So, you learn to either bring what you're used to (from Italy to the USA or vice versa) so you can get it right, or, you learn to wing it on proportions when it comes to your muffin fix.
After you've got your dry ingredients down pat, you can then move up the scale to translating sticks of butter into grams and finding 'self-rising' flour, something that is new to pasta-making Italy, but now available almost everywhere (farina per torte).
These slight differences in national ingredients is what makes American-made gnocchi stick to the roof of your mouth, and makes your Italian-made corn bread (should you ever be so desperate as to try & use polenta) come out tasting like you've just eaten a bag of broken marbles.
And let's not even think about the UK Imperial-vs-American weights and measures.  I recall being thrown off by the very idea that a foot was the length of the king's actual foot (and I don't even want to think what the inch might have been based upon).  
I have however found this terrific conversion table by what's cooking america for any industrious chefs out there.

America gets its varmint

http://www.amazon.com/Looney-Tunes-Yosemite-Pepper-Shakers/dp/B004QTXWEC/ref=sr_1_3?ie=UTF8&qid=1304976510&sr=8-3

While Americans are still simultaneously lauding and lamenting the Bin Laden assassination, here in the U.S., the war continues on its steady path across many fronts.  There are gun battles raging as I type down in the basement lair of many a household.  Call of Duty the name of the game.  When kids are bored with that, they can move on to Zombie and kill as many of them as they can within a few minutes.  I was attacked the other day by a very realistic gun app - just hold up the iTouch and pull the trigger -- you can test out every sort of firearm in existence, from the blasts of a silencer to a surface to air missile launcher.  Granted, the net effect isn't the same.

Kids graduate from Nerf Guns to BB guns, spending hours improving their shot by playing video shoot 'em ups each morning before school.  Local police get involved when bathroom graffiti takes a dangerous turn and someone scrawls BEWARE of BOMBS on the bathroom walls.  And this in an affluent suburb, where kids born with platinum spoons in their mouths and golf clubs in their hands are in constant need of new and exciting diversions.  

In areas nearby, I'm warned not to go to the spectacular movie house - one of the top-grossing places in all the USA - on a Friday or Saturday night.  Security is deployed to watch for the car break-ins and gang warfare that's not taking place on the screen.  Although I do find it a bit amusing to think that while you're watching The Hulk thoroughly demolish his umpteenth city, or a gun battle raging on the screen, you may be treated to your own version of Grand Theft Auto in 4-D -- with gangsters running through the cinema -- the police chasing close behind.

In Europe, a place where I suspect most people feel infinitely safer (I know I do), despite having 6 locks on our doors, and supporting a huge market of anti-auto theft devices, knife fights are currently all the rage.  Hopefully, we won't graduate to marksmenship and the gun totin' ways of the land -- although Germany and even Sweden has already seen a few school shooting sprees.  

Either way, it certainly makes for one import I wouldn't like to see brought in from the Wild Wild West.

Spring Fever Italian Style

All throughout Italy, spring is in the air.  70 degree weather, families taking their afternoon walks in the parks, rainbows of gelato held aloft, male tourists in sandals – with socks.  No sooner are you enjoying the end of inclement weather, then your eyes go watery and your head starts to feel groggy…Hayfever? Fine particle pollution as more people take their cars to the streets to get outside? No.

Spring is the time of year that puts multi-cultural relationships to the ultimate test.  How to handle the changes in attire and other habits that we Americans hold true to our heart (only because these habits don’t hold true for Brits), while your Italian heartthrobs anguish over those very same issues – but inversely.

The first sign of spring, and it starts out mildly – like a small drip leaking through the cracks of a dam that before long will give way, wiping out the village below.  Wandering around the house barefooted, you hear some variation of, “Why don’t you have your slippers on?”  You, in earnest merrily chirp, ‘Because it’s Spring!’ – but you soon come to realize they don’t share your light-hearted bewilderment for seasonal changes.  In fact, from the look on their face, not only don’t they get the connection, they’re busy cruising the internet to see if those nefarious diseases picked up around the house are contagious through skin contact.

At home in the evening, you strategically open all the windows to get that breeze up and running at a good pace all through the evening – if not all night.  Your partner walks in, and before you know it, you feel like you’ve been transported to a gym locker room after the game.  It takes awhile to figure out why, but you finally realize – all the windows have been closed. Tight. In the car, you roll them down, better to feel the warm sun on your face, he/she shoots them back up – and then puts on the child safety lock to ward off any further tampering.

You don’t go so far as to let them see you with wet hair, you decide it’s better to pace the cross-culturalisms throughout the summer in small doses.  Of course, by summer, the car windows do get rolled up, but the playing field moves to the A/C settings [the Americans, jet frost / Italians, the minimum setting possible so as to relieve the shock of leaving the car in 90 degree heat – and not feel any difference in temperature.

My father liked to quip that it was the little things that gnawed away at once-terrific relationships: who leaves the toilet seat up, or pushes out the toothpaste from the middle of the tube.  But then again, he never lived in a foreign country.

Giacomo Daniels, Anyone?

Having spent the last few days in Tennessee, I cannot for the life of me think of why all of the Italians didn’t settle right here. Talk about Little Italy – Tennessee, with its mountains on one side, its plains on the other, feels a lot like home (if you leave out the multitude of fast food joints, easy driving – down to 15mph in school zones and fried green tomatoes).

According to the constitution, Tennessee is “…three states within the great State of Tennessee.” That’s stuff that should bring Bossi & his Lega Party over on a ‘fact-finding mission’ faster than you can say “ethnophobic”. Western Tennessee, with Memphis, a hip urban place, not unlike Milan; more laid back Nashville, the music capital, where working hours are fairly short. And then, Eastern Tennessee, they say is sort of ‘backwards’ like the Mezzogiorno; they even have their own brand of Viking Sicilians there: people with olive skin and bright blue eyes. Who knew?

I’m pretty sure there are more churches here than in Rome, with people of all ages attending them on a regular basis; many even daily. Lest that be a deterrent to our Catholic brethren, judging by the number of scandals, affairs and divorces ‘sulla bocca di tutti’ over here, I think people would fit right in.

And then, there are the names. I’ve heard of someone here actually named Robert E. Lee (no relation to the actual one), Henry Clay, and today’s obituaries included a guy called ‘Hog’ (need I say, he died young?). Two guys whose first name is Bimbo were running for office. And while I’ve never met a Cristoforo Colombo in Italy, there are plenty of people who can’t change their names – and so we find the delightful Bevilacqua, Mangiapane, Napoleone (first name) and Buongiorno.

I was greeted today by little children who sang out, “Hello, Miss Francesca!” in chorus. Music to my ears, since it’s been a long while since I got the ‘Signorina’ greeting. The cordiality of the people (they may not say Buon Giorno when they pass, but everyone seems to smile and wave), the Bella Figura lifestyle, the villas, the nature -- I’m not sure if Tennessee could use a few good Italian restaurants, but I do know that Italians, if they caught onto this place, would truly find themselves ‘a casa’.

Living in America

Any visitor to any country, will immediately identify three things that truly signifies they are no longer at home. In Nepal, it could be the cows roaming the streets, the garbage flying out the windows, and the constant bartering. In the USA, I found:

1) The huge cars - Attending a soccer game in New Jersey, each auto seemed one version or another of a strange metallic Mammoth species. These SUVs, Maxi-vans (whoever called them mini was clearly misguided), and immense pickup trucks made me feel like Stuart Little.
While giving thanks this holiday season that the roads are equally large, I also realized how fortunate we are in Europe to have roads far too small to accommodate these monoliths. Although they make their presence known, in Italy they are still easy to pick out of a crowd. In the gas-guzzling, super-sized America, there are entire fleets of these vehicles seemingly moving along roads like an oversized swarm of giant locusts.
Now I see why little cars like the Mini Cooper or SMART have such a hard sale here.

2) The grocery aisles or, people's kitchen cupboards - Stocked so full of stuff, it makes their immense pantries and shelves appear bare when there's one item missing from the usual seven different cereal boxes and 12 salad dressing bottles.
The funny thing is, in every house I've been to so far, the kids open the cupboard, blankly stare into a crowded space (but that's only because they're not watching TV, texting friends, and posting on facebook while listening to their iPod and doing homework at the same time), which most foreigners would take for a bomb shelter storage unit, before slamming the door and decrying, 'There's nothing to eat in this house!"
From a foreigner's perspective, it's so routine, that it appears to be an Ancient ritual not unlike saying a quick prayer to the house gods who once occupied little cupboards in 1st century Rome.

3) Toilet paper - For people used to the sandpaper as something to actually bring close to sensitive parts of your body, coming to America is like a dream come true. Not only do they offer nice smelling aloe versions of the stuff, they even decorate them for the holidays. You can find turkeys, pumpkins, and little santas just to make your bottom happy.
Englishmen will recall that up until 1995, they actually used wax paper - pretty much the least absorbent item on earth, as t.p. I imagine that for them, it brings new meaning to 'America is no. 1'...and no. 2 as well.

Expat Shopping Spree

My friend Annabel, accomplished chef, food writer & marketing maven came to Rome to work in an authentic trattoria. She blogged about her experience (and terrific recipes as well) here [Her past blogs include India: Who's Sari Now? and Tokyo: Vending for your life - where she left with no suitcase & decided to purchase all of her necessities from the ubiquitous vending machines which purportedly sell everything from underwear to electronics and more..]. Needless to say, the last time she came over, she ended up developing Tex Mex menus for Dixieland restaurants in Milan, training the kitchen staff to make Huevos Rancheros and Silver Dollar Pancakes (still on offer, I might add -- although they probably cost a silver dollar to eat them).


Her arrival sparked in me, however, a little Expat Shopping Spree. Having not been back to the USA for well over a year, I was in definite need of stuff. And, I'm very brand loyal. So, for any of you 'across the pond' who come visit us expats over here, here goes.  My brother, for one, stocks up on yummy granola, kids' toothpaste and vitamins. This is not to say you can't find the items here (and Carrefour gets our vote), but, at nearly $12 for a little bottle of maple syrup, well, it's a lot less trouble to go to www.drugstore.com and let your fingers do the walking (and your friends do the carrying).


So, here's my short list of things I absolutely, positively, cannot live without (it goes without saying that we're talking family-sized containers, a concept that has not quite reached the continent):


Maple syrup - because here it costs more than truffles
Imitation vanilla - bottles here are sold for a family of lilliputians
Arrid Extra Dry - incredibly, boiling hot Europe offers either anti-perspirant or deodorant, and never the twain shall meet. I won't go into the net effect of this most outrageous practice.
Brown sugar - not cane, but soft, packed, thrice-refined, imperative for cookies, brown
Ghirardelli Brownie Mix - I know a caterer in London who brings it in by the case full -- there is no greater product on earth.
Bisquick -- for those Sunday a.m. pancakes - and don't let them fool you, Europeans love American breakfasts if it's put in front of them.
Aveeno lotion-- this is sold here, and prices on toiletries are nearly the same these days, but I still hold out for the family-size
Ditto for Johnson's Baby Oil, Nivea & other sundry items including Aquafresh (which, anyone coming to Europe will find the 'minty' taste has been altered -- turns out, they hate our mint, we theirs).
Starbucks chai tea packs - they don't sell the loose stuff over here (and thankfully, there are no Starbucks in Italy -- I think even the Italians will balk at a 4 euro latte)
Brita water filters -- can't find them at those prices over here!
Marshmallows -- just because
Hand-held dish scrubber sponges -- make great gifts too!
Altoids -- they say they come from England, but you won't find them over there (believe me, I've tried!)
Coffeemate & Folgers Instant when you want a cup o'Joe that's "good to the last drop" and decidedly not an espresso with lots of water added!


And, for those of you leaving Italy, always pack a huge family-sized Nutella jar, 'cuz you won't find 'em even that large at CostCo. Touchè.

Happy 4th of Luglio!

Last night, I was invited to attend the annual Embassy shindig held in the gardens of the Ambassador’s Residence. Lest you think simple villa, let me say that the gardens with their labyrinthine patterns, statues and flowers easily held the 3000 guests, servers and huge BBQ pits for the scores of hamburgers and hot dogs served on those delicious buns which, if one stops and compares them to the Italian pane, well, could taste a lot like eating vanilla taffy.

But, what really stood out (aside from Gina Lollabrigida, still beautifully going strong), were, of course, the thousands of Italians, not least for their totally elegant summer dress. Although I must admit, Americans have greatly improved over the years, almost reaching the easy sophistication of Italian style (just don't mention ‘business casual’). I didn’t notice any Brits donning those godawful pin-striped suits which make them all appear that they just walked off the set of Guys&Dolls, but, then again, are they invited to celebrate our independence? Do they come if they are? I wonder what the protocol is on the British presence on the fourth of July.

But, right from the start, there were other clues that set us apart, even though the evening was, of course, about our strong ties. The line to get through security wound up the block. Most Americans, including decorated NATO Officers, stood in it. An Italian woman muttering, “this isn’t for me” knocked me over with her bag as she plowed her way to the front. She was not alone. For all I know, the Americans are still Indian-filing in, while the Italians partied all night and finally went home, grabbing the first taxis just ahead of the rest of us.

As we filed by in the heat, we found tables mercifully laden with small plastic bottles of water. The Americans grabbed them and chugged them down before reaching the Ambassador and his wife. The Italians, hot & thirsty just the same, took one look at the table, saw there were no plastic cups, and simply passed them by; pleasantly choosing to ignore that barbaric fast-food mentality brought over by their hosts.

At the food tables, of course, you could find the Americans making a mad rush for the brownies, chocolate chip cookies and Haagen-Dazs – Heck-–I even ate them between courses in the way that smoke addicts cop a smoke while eating. Italians chose forks and plates of mozzarella although some Italians joined the Americans in happily chugging beer from the bottle, in a ‘when in Rome’ sort of nod. It was our holiday, after all.

After people applauded the Ambassador’s excellent speech -- in perfectly fluent Italian -- on the power of cooperation, the need to help boost the economy, and the Italians’ standing along with it, and, of course, maintaining the standards of their most excellent industries, I got the impression that the message didn’t quite sink in.

Baskets filled with red, white & blue confetti bouquets were placed at the exits as a nice parting favor. I barely managed to grab one (and I mean grab), as people were plunging their entire bodies into the heap in order to pull out as many as they could possibly carry. Some women departing looked as if they had magically changed into Eliza Doolittle, bunches of these 'flowers' in their arms.

Needless to say, there weren’t enough to go around, but, hopefully the bouquets will be given out to others in the spirit of giving – versus that of taking away for one’s own benefit.

A nice rule to live by, unless of course, you’re an American patriot and it’s 1776.