It’s awkward to write a lightweight newsletter on Italy while we’re all staring into an economic black hole.  As an American who has lived her life abroad, the sense of impending doom has been in the air for quite some time.  Now I sit at my computer, reading the articles as they come in over the internet and watch how the television anchormen and women spin this crisis (at least someone is smiling).  It feels like a financial 9/11, but with a weird time warp that stretches the disaster out day after day.

I suppose it’s useless to look back on the behaviour of this Administration; how they expected us to not question their ideologies and had the gall to say that those who did were un-American; how they jammed a senseless war down our throats (not to speak of the Iraqis’) and then binged, rampaged, and slurped their way through the world financial markets.  At the end, after they dropped the last wrapper into the gutter, they looked around –and threw another tantrum until they got more.  And to think that my parents instilled in their children the idea that was once called the American ethic: that of an honest day’s work. Now, my friends, we will have to live with the reputation for being a nation of shysters out to make a fast buck.

The thought of having awarded the Paulsons and the Bernankes and the Gramms and the Wall St. vampires 700 billion dollars is nauseating. So as I watch my country come tumbling down like a Mother Goose rhyme, what can we do?

I would certainly like to see these gentlemen behind bars for a long enough time so that they can’t get their grimey hands on a penny of the bailout package. Unfortunately it seems we can never underestimate their capacity for greed, or their cynicism about our guliblity.  I think that until we get these culprits out of the equation, it will be hard to see a return of confidence.

There is so much at stake in these elections.  As the financial infection spreads, my thoughts drift to Don Quixote and his battle to right the unrightable wrong.  I have registered to vote and sent in my ballot and hope that Barack Obama wins by a landslide. Even though I doubt whether he or anyone else will be able to fix this mess any time soon, at least we’ll go down fighting the good fight.  Some consolation, huh?

Ingredients for 4 people:

1 kg new potatoes

300 gr. dried cannellini beans

3 cloves garlic

1 large onion

Oregano

Salt

The night before put the beans to soak in a bowl and cover with water.

Next morning, rinse the beans, throw them in a pot and add enough water to cover them at least three times over. Without any salt, bring the water to a slow boil, partially cover the pot and stir regularly for two hours in order that the beans don’t stick to the bottom of the pot. Drain the beans but keep a couple of cups of the water.

Peal the potates and cut into one-inch cubes. In a large pan heat the garlic in extra-virgin olive oil. Add the raw potatoes, the beans, ½ diced onion and oregano. Add one cup of the bean water and cook, stirring until the potatoes are well cooked, adding more water if necessary, until they reach a partially creamy consistency. Salt to taste. Peperoncino is optional

Here’s the good part: Locals serve this soup using the separated layers of the other half onion as a spoon, enhancing the wholesome flavour with the wonderful aroma of fresh onion.

A variation includes serving the soup over croutons made from stale bread that has been cubed and backed in the oven until crisp and crunchy.

Savour the Sannio is happy to announce the inauguration of a new regional park in the Sannio: Il Parco Regionale di Roccamonfina. The area of the park is delimited by the sloping hills of the extinct volcano of Roccamonfina and incorporates the towns of Sessa Aurunca, Teano, Conca della Campania, Galluccio, Tora, Piccilli, Marzano Appio and Roccamonfina itself. The park highlights a little-known treasure trove of nature, history, art, culture, agriculture and culinary traditions.

The park’s president Raffaele Aveta writes, “This is a first step towards giving the territory of Roccamonfina the visibility it deserves. Visitors from all over the world are invited to embark on a journey through our medieval towns and hamlets, our soaring chestnut groves and the collective memories of our people as well as to taste the extraordinary food and wines that are typical to this territory. This is the best way to safeguard the fertile yet fragile ecosystem of this volcano”

The next step will be the establishment of a farmer’s market where people can come on weekends to buy the local varieties of fruits and vegetables directly from the producers. This initiative is hosted by Eco-chef Berardino Lombardo on his beautiful estate of Terre di Conca. “In an age of globalization and massification, it is important for both consumers and producers to have a place where the unique heirloom varietes that are indigenous to this area can be seen, tasted…and saved from extinction. “

A lot has been said about olives and most of it has to do with extra virginity.

So imagine my surprise and shock to discover that olives actually have sex! Well, not the olives… But let it suffice to say that having never considered the intimacy of olive trees, I was flabbergasted to discover that olive trees are either male or female.

So how does one go about distinguishing the machos from the maidens? First of all the male trees are bigger, stronger, have more vegetation and are a darker shade of green; the females are slimmer and more silvery in color. You can also tell the sex of the trees sex by the shape of their fruit: the male olives are longer and pointy whereas the females are more rotund. Is this starting to sound familiar?

The correct proportion of males to females is one in ten (which doesn’t seem fair) but then pollination occurs by means of the wind.

I am however, deeply disappointed. Is there nothing sacred anymore? My perception of olive groves - with those wise, ancient and austere beings - has now been shattered forever!

(After this article was published on Italian Notebook I received an email from a reader who sent me THE FACTS about olives.  Many varieties of trees are actually self-pollinating: the trees produce two kinds of flowers;  one containing both a male and female organ and the other with  only a  stamen.    However, I have heard the male vs. female version so many times from local oil producers here in Campania, that I guess ours must be the latin lover variety!)

ferragosto m 1. (il 15 agosto) August holiday, Feast of the Assumption, August ‘Bank Holiday’ 2. (periodo) August holidays pl. August holiday period.

The days preceeding and following Ferragosto are the longest and hottest of the year and mark a ritual moment of italian idleness. August 15th represents the acme of physical and psychological wellbeing: you’re feeling good because you’ve left behind work and worries, yet ahead there’s still more holiday to savour. Anxieties are put aside and all attention is brought to bear on this moment of pure stress-free laziness. In Campania this means big family get togethers with food, wine and song and I have rarely seen people have such a good time.

This year Federico and I were on the opposite side of the idleness spectrum as we were helping cater the big Ferragosto buffet lunch for 100 people at Terre di Conca. The day was crowned with beautiful weather and people began arriving as early as 10 am in order to take advantage of the sun and swimming pool. Toddlers were playing with the cats who were in turn getting in the way of the chefs. Friarielli, portulaca and zucchini flowers were being brought in from the fields and the batter for the deep-fried pizzelle was rising. Federico and Peppino (the singer) were setting up the sound system.

Hunger struck at one o’clock and the buffet began. There was a brief moment of tension as everyone surged toward the buffet table, but this group of old customers knew that Berardino served more food than anyone could possibly eat so the atmosphere was easy going and everyone actually lined up like Brits at a taxi stand! First came the fried antipasti: pizzelle (puffed salted pastry filled with tomatoe sauce and basilico), zucchini flowers, portulaca (a green weed) and friarelli (small green peppers). People ate, drank and relaxed while listening to Peppino sing nostalgic songs by Fred Bongusto and Andriano Celentano, accompanied by tasteful recorded arrangements.

Then came the fresh, oven-baked pasta made with tomatoes, eggplant and hard-boiled eggs. A few teenagers returned to the pool to top up their tans and Peppino shifted gear to more rythmic pieces. Husbands and wives, grandfathers and grandaughters, mothers and friends began dancing, embraced in each others sense of belonging. By the time the roasted meats arrived people were ready for more food and wine. Desserts were served at around four pm followed by cold watermelon, chilled prosecco and provolone cheese. Peppino took out his guitar and sang the classic neapolitan songs: Mare Chiaro, Turna a Surriento, U Sarracino…

With work over, the staff started to enjoy themselves with a bit of wine or beer and accompanied Peppino, singing off-key into the microphone. The evening came to an end when Berardino carried his assistant over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and jumped into the pool.

There may be many problems facing this country but, grazie a Dio, Italians still know how to seize the moment. Carpe Diem.

(Thank you Dorothy for two of the pictures!)