by Krista | Feb 22, 2012 | Plucky Thursday
Summer evenings on the island of Gozo in Malta are exquisitely beautiful. While the days are so piping hot you want to find a shady nook and not budge, as the sun goes down the air cools and lovely breezes blow in off the water. On such nights there is nothing better than sharing a bottle of chilled rosé with dear friends and watching the sunset over the ocean.
On one fine evening in August I did just that with three of my favorite cronies: Barbara, Janet and Colin. While Colin reserved a table for us on the balcony of the local football club, we girls took a drive around part of this exquisite little island.
We drove through small villages bustling with activity as local citizens hung banners and strung lights for a festival honoring their patron saint.
We puttered along the coast, stopping to admire towering stone formations along the rocky beach.
We rolled down our windows and laughed with delight as we tore along, the wind whipping our hair and whisking away any steamy remnants of the sweltering afternoon.
Stopping atop a cliff we gazed out over the sun-burnt landscape, delighting in the brilliant oleander bushes blossoming beside the road, peering down at the glistening salt pans filled with water.
The roadsides were lined with teenage boys as we trundled up the last hill back into town. They stood and sat in clusters gazing up into the sky as the fireworks chaps tested round after round before the official festivities began.
With the sun not quite set, Barbara, Janet and I found a parking spot and tracked down Colin who had found the perfect table.
We ordered a round of pizzas and a frosty bottle of rosé, visiting happily as we watched the sun sink lower and lower, casting its soft golden glow on faces and buildings alike.
I leaned back in my chair sipping my wine, eyes closed as the last rays of the sun warmed my cheeks. There was no place I’d rather be than in this tiny Gozitan football club devouring scrumptious pizza and laughing heartily with dear friends.
What is one of your most memorable sunsets?
by Krista | Feb 20, 2012 | Compatriot Wednesday
Good afternoon, luvs! I’m enjoying a wonderfully cozy day at home as one tropical storm after another blows through in a whirl of wind and raindrops.
As I listen to the storm rage I’m watching British murder mysteries and editing photos from a long ago trip to Versailles. Since my poor camera has died a sudden and irreversible death, I won’t be able to share new photos with you for a while. I hope you won’t mind a detour to the past until I’m able to get a new camera. 🙂
Today we’re heading back to the gardens of Versailles. While the palaces are a dizzying confection of gold and crystal well worth an agog gaze or two, the gardens are by far my favorite spot.
One gorgeously sunny day in October, my friend Amy and I wandered the grounds (and palaces!) for over twelve hours. We were groaning like old biddies by the end of the day, but what we saw was worth every hobble and creak.
I hope you think so too. 🙂
What are the prettiest gardens you’ve ever seen?
PS – If you’re a fan of decadent Italian desserts, click here to pop over to the Travel Belles to read my latest article on the best panna cotta I ever had. Found in a tiny Italian village near the Italian Alps. 🙂
by Krista | Feb 19, 2012 | Bootstrap Monday
It was a wonderfully dark and eerie afternoon when Bear and I stepped onto the sandy shores at Deception Bay in Caboolture Shire north of Brisbane, Australia. Storm clouds loomed overhead, threatening to unload their cargo of raindrops at any moment. Being adventurous souls we couldn’t let such things deter us, so we set our faces into the blustering wind and went for a trek.
Deception Bay is a lovely place, named by a certain Lieutenant John Oxley in 1823 who mistook it for a river due to its unusual shallowness.
Such shallow waters make it an ideal spot for fishing, boating and searching for treasures in the tidal pools.
It’s also home to beautiful mangroves, a thick carpet of roots keeping them anchored in the shifting sands and rising tides. I loved standing on shore gazing out to sea, mesmerized by silvery swirls of water shimmering a gun metal gray in the brooding light.
I’d never seen mangroves before and was quite transfixed by them.
Up close the sand looks like it’s carpeted with ginger root mingling with fallen yellow leaves and cheery green shoots.
The small pool below is known as Mrs. Bancroft’s Bath. The pool was carved out of rock in the 1880’s for the wife of Dr. Joseph Bancroft. The poor woman was very ill and an English doctor prescribed salt water baths. On fine days Mrs. Bancroft was carried down the cliff and placed into the bath as the tide came in. Before this treatment she was only given a short time to live. Amazingly she lived a further 8-10 years. To this day you can still see the holes where a canopy was erected to protect her from the fierce Australian sun.
The mangroves have a rather splendid tropical feel to them, and I had flashes of the old Disney version of Swiss Family Robinson.
When we weren’t traipsing through the sand peering at jelly fish and old salt water baths, Bear and I joined other afternoon strollers on the Cottonwood Walk, a sweeping boardwalk along the esplanade with magnificent views of the mangroves and the sea.
When the skies grew darker we breathed deeply of the cool, sea air then headed back to the car, arriving just as the first raindrops began to fall.
What is your favorite thing to do on a stormy afternoon?
by Krista | Feb 15, 2012 | Plucky Thursday
Looking out my window at a brilliant blue Australian sky I can’t help but smile as I read these lines:
“Nor rural sights alone, but rural sounds,
Exhilarate the spirit,
and restore…”
– William Cowper –
As much as I love the rural beauties around me – weeds masquerading as wildflowers, fresh eggs nestled in golden straw, plump green bell peppers dangling from their stalks – it is also the sounds of the country that grip my heart and soothe my spirits.
Right now I can hear my chooks (chickens) clucking contentedly as they peck at apples and cucumbers I tossed onto the grass for them. Every now and then one of the little goats gives a plaintive bleat and I look up to see them all trying in vain to stand on the same log at the same time.
We’ve had some ripping thunderstorms lately. How I love watching the storm clouds build, seeing the massive streaks of lightning and hearing shuddering booms of thunder before that first whoosh of wind blasts through the gum trees and huge raindrops clatter on the tin roof of the back porch.
I thoroughly enjoy exploring cities, delighting in the mad hustle and bustle, having a marvelous time attending concerts or plays and discovering great restaurants. But it’s in the country where my soul finds rest.
Whether floating along canals outside Amsterdam…
…wandering deserted cliffs on the island of Gozo…
…or sitting quietly in the courtyard of an Italian farmhouse.
On such sunny, peaceful days in the country, I crave comfort food like homemade bread slathered with butter and honey. My favorite country, comfort food is a Shredded Beef Pie. It’s basically a savory beef stew tucked in pie dough and baked until the crust is flaky and beautifully browned. I admit I’ve been known to eat all the stew first then linger happily over the salted pie crust. Sigh. 🙂 I like making personal pies in little ramekins. They go perfectly with a glass of chilled sparkling Shiraz (summer) or your favorite red wine (winter) or good stout beer (anytime).
Where do you go to restore your spirits?
Shredded Beef Pie
(Adjust amounts to suit your needs. This makes enough for two regular pies or eight small ones.)
Ingredients:
small beef roast
2 onions, chopped
3-4 carrots, chopped
3-4 potatoes, chopped
2-3 stalks celery, sliced
fresh rosemary
salt and pepper to taste
flour or cornstarch
favorite pie crust dough (I love Julia Child’s blue ribbon pie crust recipe), enough for two double-crust pies
1 egg, beaten
Directions:
- Place roast, vegetables, rosemary, salt and pepper in crock-pot, cover with water and cook 8-12 hours until meat shreds easily with a fork.
- Prepare pie crust. Press into pie pans and chill until ready to use.
- Remove roast and let rest a few minutes. Shred roast and cover until needed. Pour remaining contents into a colander, saving juices for gravy. Cover vegetables until needed. Allow juices to cool 10-15 minutes.
- Pour juices into saucepan. Taste for seasonings and add salt or pepper as needed. Make roux of flour (or cornstarch) and water. Add to juices and turn heat to medium-high. Bring mixture to boil, stirring constantly. Boil 1-2 minutes until it thickens to the consistency you desire (a thick gravy). Remove from heat.
- Combine shredded beef and vegetables in a bowl, pour enough gravy over mixture to coat. Should be like a thick stew.
- Remove pie pans from fridge. Pour stew into each pan, mounding it slightly in the center. Roll out top crust and place on top. Pinch edges to seal (use a bit of water if it doesn’t stick properly). Cut slits in top crust for steam to escape. Brush with egg and dust with salt.
- Bake at 375 degrees F for 45 minutes, or until crust is golden brown. Serve hot.
by Krista | Feb 13, 2012 | Compatriot Wednesday
It was a gorgeous autumn evening when my friend Margo and I headed downstairs to try dinner at our beloved and quirky agriturismo, the Casa Scaparone outside Alba, Italy.
In spite of ancient plumbing with water that needed to be heated by wood fires every morning, and a charming host who warned us frequently to prepare for the coming Changement (the technological meltdown of the world), we loved it.
We’d already spent many happy hours writing in the sun-warmed garret, going for walks through the tiny community, and visiting happily in the beautiful courtyard, but tonight would be our first dinner and we were excited.
We arrived far too early, as evidenced by the empty dining room inhabited only by staff members bustling about setting tables and creating a ruckus in the kitchen. But we didn’t mind. It was a gorgeous night and we headed outside to wait for our feast.
We found seats near the outdoor dance floor and waited contentedly under the glow of thousands of tiny lights. Slowly but surely local couples arrived out of the darkness, strolling through the big metal gates and greeting each other like the old friends they undoubtedly were.
We heard music begin and soon our host beckoned us in. At last it was time to eat. With tummies rumbling we took our seats in a far corner where we could people-watch to our hearts content.
Soon the restaurant was filled to capacity, the babble of voices just audible over the jaunty strains of a local band playing Italian country songs. The mood was jolly and vivacious and we grinned as our sociable host made his way from table to table greeting folks with kisses and back slaps and hearty handshakes, welcoming one and all as if they were treasured guests.
Then the food began to arrive.
We started out with a basket brimming with flour-dusted fresh bread, copious amounts of local red wine and a glistening bottle of water. These were followed by:
- a platter of warm, chewy flat bread
- chilled asparagus frittata with fresh tomatoes
- fork-tender slow-roasted beef with carrots and parsley
- thin crust pizza with savory roasted garlic, tomato and eggplant
- glossy strands of fettuccine with sausage and cheese
- tender gnocchi with a rich cream sauce
Imagine our surprise when our waitress then asked us if we were ready for the meat course!!! Apparently we were just getting started. Alas, we were already about to burst, so we begged her to skip right to dessert. Such a choice captured the attention of our host who came to our table to verify that we really only wanted the “small menu.” I love Italy. 🙂
Duly assured that yes, we were perfectly satiated with the small menu, our waitress arrived with dessert. All three of them:
- heavenly dark chocolate studded with crushed cookies
- silky custard cake with crumb topping
- luscious caramelized apples with custard
It was truly marvelous. We settled back in our chairs with one more glass of red wine, feeling warm, full, and contented.
After draining our glasses we bid farewell to our host, assuring him once again that we had adored and were satisfied with every last morsel of our small menu. Choosing the teensy elevator over three flights of stairs, we collapsed happily into our beds and grinned as the band was joined by the crowd bursting loudly into song. Normally such goings on would keep me wide awake, but after such a feast, not even a restaurant full of raucous Italians could keep me from drifting off into luxurious sleep.
What is one of your favorite dining memories?
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