Cooking Class with Chef Roberto
There is something much more than just cooking to be learned from our Italian chef Roberto. One of the first things he says to us is, “don’t stressa (stress) the food. If you stressa the food then you gonna stressa your guest, and that is not good for anyone,”as he elaborates, hands in the air, eyes sparkling, smiling and talking all at the same time, he explains that you must enjoy what you are doing, while you are doing it. Whatever emotion you pour into the food, into the entire meal, is what your guest will feel when they eat it. “If you stressa the food, it don’t taste very good.” A great lesson in cooking, also in life.
As Roberto walked us through the preparations for a four course lunch (yes I have gained 10 lbs since coming to Italy), he not only showed us the technical side as to how to prepare each dish, but also how to love everything you are doing. While in the midst of preparing our Tiramisu, Roberto animatedly told a story of traveling to Korea to teach some chefs about working with olive oil. He needed to bring some of his own ingrediance that he knew he would be unable to find in Korea, so he packed a suitcase full of olive oil and pecorino cheese. The airline managed to loose his luggage, which gave Roberto “mucho stressa.” The lost suitcase was either going to result in an arrest (“you know this taking the Italian oil out of the country is very illegal, nearly as bad as trafficking the drugs!”) or a returned suitcase in which he imagined, “maybe full of the mice, and the rotting cheese, not so good!!” As he finished his epic tale, arms up in the most dramatic fashion, he looked to the texture of the batter with great pride. “Roberto, you dance with your food,” I said. “Yes, dancing with the food,” he replied in his thick accent, and looked at me with a huge smile. He agreed.
Everything we made for our meal was entirely from scratch and by hand. Most of the ingredience came from the garden outside, the local butcher, or a farm nearby. Then we used our hands as the only tools from which to craft our meal. “Always use the hands, it is much more good this way. We can make anything just with the hands,” Roberto says as he masterfully kneads the dough for our homemade pasta.
He talks about paying close attention to the weather while one is cooking. “Ok Berto, now you have lost me,” I think to myself looking at him skeptically. But he goes on, explaining that if the weather is very dry and hot outside, or in his words, “not more humid,” then you must add more water to your pizza dough, or else, “it will die. You see it’s still alive, we make it to grow big with water.”
The way he talks about the food it’s as if he is speaking of his children. When I then asked of his children he got very excited. “Oh my son, he is just terrible! Terrible!!” (he means this in the most endearing way and is smiling ear to ear as he describes his “terrible” son). “He is an animal the way he eats. 15 years old, and the hormones, oh it’s like a revolution!! (The arms are thrown into the air once again, to emphasize that he speaks of revolution in its most serious form). I can only imagine family dinners at Roberto’s Villa.
Then we ate, and we ate, and we drank, and we ate, and I assure you there was not an ounce of “stressa” in the food. As I write now, I am lying by the pool. My belly resembles that of a pregnant woman’s and my mind is lazy from the late afternoon wine. But I couldn’t be happier, it was the most fabulous meal of my life. Maybe it was the temperature, the perfect table outside, and Roberto’s voice saying “Don’t eat too much! I suggest you ride the bike today, and tomorrow too.”
A few hours later I awoke from my afternoon nap. As I lye there in the sun my thoughts were drawn back to our incredible meal. What made it the “best meal of my life” I wondered. Then it came to me. I saw, touched, tasted, and worked with every single ingredient that went into that meal. I know where everything came from. My hands, along with my mother’s and Roberto’s were the only things that transformed the raw ingrediance into this amazing meal. When I ate, not only was my mouth overwhelmingly satisfied, buy I could feel the pleasure of the food in my heart. I think if we could learn to not only eat like this all the time, but live like this, our lives would in turn feel much more full.
Grazie mile Roberto!!
Toscana
There is just something about the air in Tuscany. You take a deep breath in, and the way it smells, tastes, feels; it sends a wave of pleasure and fullness through your body. I love it here, and I vow to one day own a house here. We arrived two days ago, walking off the plan down a short stair case and into the warm fresh air. Everything around us was amazingly green. I’ve seen shades of green over the past few days that I didn’t even know existed. The villa where we are staying is only about 45 minuets from the center of Florence, however it feels like worlds away. As you take the A1 highway out of Firenze, you are instantly transported into the most perfect countryside. The very greenest of rolling hills stretch out in front you as far as the eye can see. The green is spackled with bright red poppies, tiny yellow and white flowers, and rows of winding deep brown grape vines. The air is filled with a thousand bird songs and the sky is a cloudless soft blue. A warm wind blows from somewhere (my sense of direction has escaped me here), taking with it every ounce of worry and stress you might be holding onto.
We are greeted by the manager of the villa. She is a beautiful Italian woman who welcomes us with a glass of the villa’s own wine and a huge smile. “Welcome to Casa Monsignore!!” She seems very excited that we have made it, and we are very excited to be immediately handed a generous glass of red wine (our drive to the villa had a few stressful moments).
We are taken to our villa which is beautiful and far larger than two people could ever need. One of the first things I noticed was the lack of clocks. There didn’t seem to be a single one. So in keeping with the theme, I took off my own watch, tossed it into the suitcase and decided from that moment on, I would function independent of time (at least until I left Tuscany!).
I watched the sun go down over the hills in the distance, casting a bright orange light on the stone villa. As the sun slowly receded in the sky, the shadows of the Cyprus trees grew taller and taller until soon they looked like black skyscrapers on the green fields.
We ate dinner at the restaurant located on the property. It is a tiny place with only a few tables, one chef and one waitress. Their friendliness and smiles are contagious, and their food cannot be described by words. The wood beamed ceiling is very low. From it hangs ropes of garlic along with various pots and pans, all lit up by candle light.
At night the only sounds are those of a few night creatures. I fall asleep with the windows wide open, despite the slightly chilly spring air. I’m hoping to soak up as much of this place as I can, so that even months after I have left this place, I still feel as though I am under the Tuscan sun.
