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abiu, annona atemoya, carambola e rambutan

abiu, atemoya, starfruit and rambutan: four types of fruit (frutta) I have recently had the pleasure of eating while vacationing on the Big Island of Hawai'i

[cliccare il link per andare alla versione in italiano]

I fell in love with abiu two years ago, when we visited the Big Island for the first time. I talked about my first encounter with the fruit in this post, but I did not have a photo of it when ready to be eaten. Before taking the photo above, I partially scooped out a bit of the pulp (polpa) to offer a closer look.

[The fruit has] a pale, translucent pulp of a custard consistency that is easily scooped out with a spoon... The seeds are easily removed and are covered with a thin layer of adherent pulp. The fruit has a sweet, mild taste which may have a hint of pineapple but is best described as reminiscent of caramel flan. It is often used in ice cream or eaten out of hand. [source]

The largest abiu we ate was a gift from Claudia of Honey from Rock, whom my husband (marito) and I had the great pleasure of meeting, and whose garden I knew from her blog to be a place full of wonderful fruits. [This post on Claudia's blog has a photo of us in her kitchen. I will talk more about this visit in a future post.]

This is the original version of the sepia photo that I submitted to last week's edition of Black and White Wednesday. I purchased the fruit at the Kalapana Farmers' Market, which is held every Saturday at the SPACE. It was a small market, so I felt very conspicuous with my camera, and the few shots I took were not good. I decided to forget about the camera and focus on doing some shopping.

The great thing about shopping at the farmers' market is that you can ask questions from the person who grew the item you are interested in. The atemoya caught my attention and I asked about it: "It tastes like custard" is basically what I was told. The woman next to me picked up one of the two atemoyas available, looked at me and said "Get the other one," which I immediately did.

The atemoya was ripe, so as soon as we got back home, I tasted some: it was indeed like eating a custard flavored and sweetened to perfection. Atemoya is a hybrid of sugar apple and cherimoya (a fruit I am now eager to try).

The flesh is not segmented like that of the Cherimoya. It is very juicy and smooth, tasting slightly sweet and a little tart, reminiscent of a piña colada. The taste also resembles vanilla from its sugar apple parent. There are many inedible, toxic black seeds throughout the flesh of the atemoya. When ripe, the fruit can be scooped out of the shell and eaten chilled. [source]

From the same vendor, together with atemoya, I bought a vanilla pod (baccello di vaniglia) and some rambutan (below the atemoya in photo above), because their color and punkish look are adorable (the spines are actually pliable).

On Sunday, the big market on the road between Pahoa and Kea'au was canceled, since it was New Year's Day. It was a big disappointment for me, because when we visited it two years ago, we had a great time. However, there were a few vendors at the farmers' market in the village of Pahoa and there I shot a couple of photos...

and bought more rambutan. I particularly liked the way they were sold, still attached to the branch.

The fruit flesh is translucent, whitish or very pale pink, with a sweet, mildly acidic flavor... The best quality rambutan is generally that which is harvested still attached to the branch. [source]

Cutting the skin and making the fruit pop out of it is part of the pleasure of eating rambutan. In terms of flavor and texture, rambutan is similar to lychee (or litchi), with which I was already familiar.

There was a starfruit tree outside the Avocado Tree House where we stayed. But the best photo I took is of a case of starfruit at the market in Pahoa.

Claudia kindly gave us one from her garden, and I used it in the salad we ate the evening before we left.

I don't have a photo of the salad (insalata) I made that night. We actually had salad every day for dinner: with such a profusion of locally grown ingredients, it was an easy choice. Here are the ingredients I used for our dinner salads, the last three making up the dressing:

• mixed salad greens
• avocado, diced
• starfruit¹, sliced (this brief slide show explains how to prepare the starfruit)
• small tomatoes (pomodori), cut into quarters or eights
• sea salt, to taste
• homemade goat yogurt, a couple of tablespoons, to taste
• balsamic vinegar, to taste

You can use olive oil, if you want, but in my opinion, it was not necessary.

I believe that part of the intensity of flavor of the fruit we enjoyed on the Big Island was due to the fact that it had all ripened on the tree.

Now the question is: how can we go back to eating continental fruit after a few days of feasting on the amazing varieties I have just described? We hope to visit the Big Island again in the future to taste the fruit offered at its farmes' markets.

¹ As mentioned by Alicia in her comment below, people with kidney failure should avoid starfruit. More details can be read in the medical literature, for example here and here.

This is my contribution to edition #316 of Weekend Herb Blogging, an event started by Kalyn of Kalyn's Kitchen, now organized by Haalo of Cook (almost) Anything at Least Once and hosted this week by Simona of Simona's Kitchen.

This post contains the roundup of the event.

Click on the button to hear me pronounce the Italian words mentioned in the post:

abiu, annona atemoya, carambola e rambutan

or launch the abiu, annona atemoya, carambola e rambutan audio file [mp3].

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abiu, atemoya, rambutan, starfruit

abiu, annona atemoya, carambola e rambutan

abiu, annona atemoya, carambola and rambutan: quattro tipi di frutta che ho mangiato durante la recente vacanzina sull'isola di Hawaii. (Nota: l'isola di Hawaii è la più grande e la più orientale isola dell'arcipelago delle Hawaii; negli USA di solito ci si riferisce ad essa come "the Big Island" per evitare confusione tra isola e arcipelago.)

Mi sono innamorata dell'abiu due anni fa quando siamo stati ad Hawaii per la prima volta e ne ho parlato in un post, ma non avevo una foto del frutto tagliato e pronto per essere mangiato. Prima di scattare la foto qui sopra ho affondato il cucchiaino nella polpa per far vedere meglio la sua consistenza.

La polpa è translucida e di colore pallido, ha consistenza cremosa e si può scavare facilmente con un cucchiaino... I semi, coperti da un sottile strato di polpa, si possono rimuovere facilmente. Il frutto ha un sapore dolce e delicato che può avere un accenno di ananas, ma è piu precisamente descritto come crème caramel. Viene usato spesso come ingrediente per preparare gelato o mangiato al naturale. [fonte; mia traduzione]

L'abiu più grosso che abbiamo mangiato ce lo ha regalato Claudia di Honey from Rock, che mio marito ed io abbiamo avuto il piacere di incontrare e il cui giardino sapevo fosse pieno di frutti meravigliosi. [Questo post sul blog di Claudia ha una foto di noi due nella sua cucina. Parlerò ancora di questa visita in un futuro post.]

Questa è la versione originale della foto con la quale ho contribuito la settimana scorsa all'evento Black and White Wednesday. La frutta ritratta l'ho comprata al farmers' market di Kalapana, che si tiene ogni sabato presso lo SPACE. Era un mercato piccolo e mi sono sentita un po' a disagio con la mia macchina fotografica e così le poche foto che ho fatto sono venute male. Ad un certo punto ho messo da parte la mio Nikon e mi sono concentrata sugli acquisti.

Il bello di fare la spesa al farmers' market è che si possono fare domande direttamente al produttore. L'annona atemoya ha colto la mia attenzione e alla mia domanda su che sapore avesse la venditrice mi ha praticamente detto che fosse come mangiare la crema. La signora vicino a me ha preso uno dei due frutti che c'erano nel cesto, mi ha guardata e mi ha detto: "Prendi l'altro," invito che ho immediatamente accettato.

L'annona atemoya era matura e quando siamo tornati a casa l'ho assaggiata subito: veramente è come mangiare della crema soda, dal sapore delicato e dolce quanto basta. L'Annona atemoya è un incrocio tra Annona squamosa e Annona cherimola. Quest'ultima viene coltivata anche in alcune zone della Calabria e della Sicilia orientale

La polpa non è segmentata come quella della cherimoya [Annona cherimola]. È molto succosa e liscia, dolce e sa di piña colada e vaniglia. Ci sono molti semi tossici sparsi nella polpa. Quando è matura, la polpa dell'atemoya si può scavare con un cucchiaino e separare dalla buccia. [fonte; libera traduzione mia]

Dalla stessa venditrice, oltre all'atemoya, ho comprato un baccello di vaniglia e dei rambutan (nella foto in alto sono sotto l'atemoya), ispirata dal loro colore e dal look un po' punk (le "spine" di fatto sono morbide).

La domenica, il grande mercato che si tiene in uno spazio lungo la strada tra Pahoa e Kea'au è stato cancellato perché era Capodanno. Mi è dispiaciuto molto, poiché quando siamo stati ad Hawaii due anni fa lo avevamo visitato e c'eravamo divertiti molto. Ma c'erano alcuni venditori al mercato nel paese di Pahoa e ho fatto un paio di foto...

e ho comprato più rambutan. Mi è piaciuto in modo particolare il modo in cui i frutti vengono venduti, ancora attaccati al rametto dell'albero.

La polpa è translucente, biancastra o rosa molto pallido, dal sapore dolce e leggermente acidulo... I rambutan di qualità migliore in genere sono quelli raccolti ancora attaccati all'albero. [fonte, traduzione mia]

Tagliare la buccia e far saltar fuori il frutto è parte del piacere del magiare i rambutan. Per quanto riguarda sapore e consistenza, i rambutan assomigliano ai litchi, che già conoscevo.

Vicino al nostro alloggio c'era un albero di carambola, ma la foto migliore dei frutti che ho scattato è questa, ancora al mercato di Pahoa.

Claudia ci ha gentilmente regalato una carambola dal suo giardino e l'ho usata come ingrediente dell'insalata che ho preparato per cena la sera prima di partire.

Non ho una foto di quella insalata. Di fatto, abbiamo mangiato insalata ogni sera: con una tale profusione di ingredienti di produzione locale, la scelta era ovvia. Questi sono gli ingredienti che ho usato per le insalate (gli ultimi tre sono il condimento):

• insalata mista
• avocado tagliato a dadini
• carambola¹ affettata (queste foto spiegano come si prepara la carambola)
• pomodorini, tagliati in 4 o 8
• sale fino, q.b.
• un paio di cucchiai di yogurt di capra fatto in casa
• aceto balsamico, q.b.

Potete usare olio d'oliva, se volete, ma a mio parere non è necessario.

Credo che parte dell'intensità del sapore della frutta che abbiamo mangiato durante la nostra vacanza è dovuta al fatto che era maturata sull'albero.

La mia domanda è: come si puo tornare a mangiare la frutta del continente dopo aver assaporato le delizie che ho descritto? Speriamo di visitare di nuovo l'isola di Hawaii per mangiare le delizie che sono disponibili nei suoi farmers' market.

¹ Come nota Alicia nel suo commento, persone affette da insufficienza renale devono evitare la carambola. Maggiori dettagli nella letterature medica, per esempio qui e qui.

Questo post è il mio contributo all'edizione numero 316 di Weekend Herb Blogging, un evento creato da Kalyn di Kalyn's Kitchen, organizzato ora da Haalo di Cook (almost) Anything at Least Once, la cui versione italiana è organizzata da Brii di briggishome, e ospitata questa settimana da Simona di Simona's Kitchen.

Questo post contiene la raccolta dell'evento.

capodanno sull'isola di Hawaii (seconda puntata)

New Year's Day on Hawai'i (a.k.a. the Big Island) — part 2

[cliccare il link per andare alla versione in italiano]

In a previous post, I described the main motivation behind our recent trip to the Big Island of Hawai'i. Here, I will share a few other images, some of them food-related.

When you say you've been to the Big Island, people ask you whether you stayed on the Kona side (on the the west coast) or the Hilo side (on the east coast). We stayed in the Puna district, south of Hilo, near the current volcanic activity. As an aside, in preparation for the trip, my husband consulted Hawaii The Big Island Revealed, which turned out to be an excellent guidebook (the web site has a page with updates to information items printed in the book that have changed since publication).

On this page, there is a map (cartina) of the area of South Hilo and Puna. If you scroll down, you can see the town of Pahoa. We were a few miles south-east of the town. The map tells you that the coastal area of the district was the theater of volcanic events in 1955 and 1960. We saw the signs left by those events on the landscape. A consequence of abundant rainfall in this area is a lush vegetation. We've driven on stretches of road with very little traffic, where the trees create a green tunnel. When our plans included snorkeling, I did not carry my camera with me, so I don't have photos of several beautiful places we visited and also of the marine creatures we admired (apart from the turtles on Black Sand Beach).

This is a photo of the beautiful Avocado Tree House where we stayed.

This is the view towards the ocean from the room upstairs. The light was beautiful at any time during the day.

The avocado tree was very generous with its fruit and we never said no to its offers. Every morning, I picked up a couple of avocados that had fallen on the grass. I let them ripen for a day and then we ate them. I made salad every evening for dinner (using a locally grown organic salad mix, insalata mista) and added an avocado to it. There were also other fruit trees (alberi da frutto) around the house, some of them unknown to me. For example, I had never seen a papaya tree.

All the fruit in the bowl was tree-ripened: banane (singular banana), pompelmo (grapefruit, plural pompelmi), arancia (orange, plural arance), mandarino (mandarin, plural mandarini), avocado (avocado, plural is the same). My husband particularly appreciated the small bananas. I loved the yellow fruit in the middle. Continue reading and at some point I will tell you what it is.

On Sunday morning, we visited the farmers' market in Pahoa, where I had to restrain myself, knowing that I would probably not be able to bring back fresh fruit or vegetables. Among the products on sale, I saw some cacao pods, freshly picked and beautiful in both shape and color (unfortunately, I have no photo of the encounter, but I had a nice conversation with the young man who had brought the pods to the market).

As you can imagine, we ate a lot of frutta fresca (fresh fruit). On our way back, at the airport, I learned the details of the regulations pertaining the carrying of fruit from Hawai'i to the mainland. With only a couple of exceptions, fresh fruit is not allowed to get on the plane (on this page, you can download a document with the details). I was allowed to bring back some fresh zenzero (ginger), after the inspector verified that it was absolutely clean. Our gracious hosts grow organic ginger (in a different location from that of the house). During our stay, I learned from them a few uses for ginger, one of which will be the subject of an upcoming post.

The yellow fruit in the bowl above and still on the branch here is the fruit of the abiu tree, unknown to me before. I find the wikipedia's description quite accurate:

When ripe, it has smooth bright yellow skin and will have one to four ovate seeds. The inside of the fruit is translucent and white. It has a creamy and jelly-like texture and its taste is sweet like caramel.

I ate it like you would a ripe avocado: I cut it in half and scooped out the flesh (polpa) with a teaspoon (eliminating the seeds, semi, which are fairly big). It was a delicious dessert. I wish I had my ice cream maker with me, so I could have tried to make an abiu sorbet (sorbetto).

This was literally my parting shot: I took the photo the morning we left Hawai'i to fly back home.

Hear me pronounce the words on the capodanno sull'isola di Hawaii (seconda puntata) audio file [mp3] or go to the capodanno sull'isola di Hawaii (seconda puntata) audio page for more listening options.

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Per i lettori italiani. Nel post precedente ho descritto la ragione principale dietro alla nostra visita all'isola di Hawaii. Qui vi farò vedere altre foto, alcune relative al cibo.

Quando uno dice di essere stato ad Hawaii, la domanda che gli viene posta è se sia stato sul lato di Kona (sulla costa ovest) o sul lato di Hilo (sulla costa est). Noi siamo stati nel distretto Puna, a sud di Hilo, vicino all'attività vulcanica. In preparazione al viaggio mio marito ha consultato l'ottima guida Hawaii The Big Island Revealed.

Su questa pagina c'è una cartina del sud di Hilo e Puna. Se guardate la parte inferiore, potete vedere Pahoa. Noi eravamo a poche miglie a sud-est di Pahoa. La cartina vi dice che l'area costiera è stata il teatro di eventi vulcanici nel 1955 e 1960. Abbiamo visto i segni lasciati da tali eventi sul paesaggio. Una conseguenza della pioggia abbondante in questa zone è la vegetazione lussureggiante. Abbiamo guidato su tratti di strada dove gli alberi creano un tunnel verde. Quando i nostri piani prevedevano snorkeling non mi sono portata dietro la macchina fotografica, quindi non ho immagini di diversi posti nolto belli che abbiamo visitato e anche delle creature marine che abbiamo ammirato (a parte le tartarughe sulla spiaggia).

Questa è una foto della bella Avocado Tree House (casa dell'albero di avocado) dove abbiamo alloggiato.

Questa è la vista verso l'oceano dal piano superiore. La luce era bella ad ogni ora del giorno.

L'albero di avocado è stato generoso e noi non abbiamo mai rifiutato le sue offerte. Ogni mattina, ho raccolto un paio di avocado che erano caduti dall'allbero. Dopo averli lasciati maturare per un giorno, li abbiamo mangiati. Ogni sera per cena ho preparato un'insalata mista (di produzione locale e bio) con cremosi pezzetti di avocado. C'erano anche altri alberi da frutto nella proprietà, alcuni dei quali a me sconosciuti. Per esempio, non avevo mai visto un albero di papaya.

Tutta la frutta nel piatto era maturata sull'albero. A mio marito sono piaciute molto le mini banane. A me è piaciuto molto il frutto giallo al centro. Continuate a leggere per sapere di che frutto si tratta.

La domenica mattina siamo andati al "farmers' market" a Pahoa, dove mi sono dovuta trattenere, sapendo che probabilmente non avrei potuto portarmi dietro come souvenir frutta e verdura fresche. Tra i vari prodotti in vendita, ho visto dei frutti del cacao (cabosse) appena colti, dal colore bellissimo (purtroppo non ho una foto, ma ho fatto una bella chacchierata col ragazzo che li vendeva).

Come potete immaginare, abbiamo mangiato un bel po' di frutta fresca. Durante il viaggio di ritrono, all'aeroporto di Honolulu, ho imparato i dettagli del regolamento che riguarda il trasporto di frutta dalle isole Hawaii al continente. A parte un paio di eccezioni (i dettagli sono su un documento scaricabile da questa pagina), la frutta fresca non è ammessa sull'aereo. Ho portato a casa un pezzo di radice di zenzero fresco, dopo che gli agenti si sono assicurati che era assolutamente pulita. I proprietari del posto dove abbiamo alloggiato hanno una coltivazione di zenzero bio (in una località diversa da quella della casa.) Durante il nostro soggiorno, ho imparato alcuni usi per lo zenzero fresco, di uno dei quali parlerò presto in un post.

Il frutto giallo al centro del piatto, e ancora attaccato al ramo in questa foto, è il frutto dell'abiu a me sconosciuto prima d'ora. La descrizione che ne dà wikipedia è alquanto accurata (traduzione mia):

Quando è maturo, ha una pelle liscia di colore giallo acceso e da uno a quattro semi ovoidali. La polpa gialla bianca e traslucida. Ha una consistenza cremosa e gelatinosa e ha un sapore dolce come il caramello.

Ho mangiato l'abiu come si mangia un avocado maturo: l'ho tagliato a metà per lungo e ho mangiato la polpa con un cucchiaino (eliminando i semi, che sono piuttosto grossi). Un dessert delizioso. Mi sarebbe piaciuto avere con me la mia gelatiera per provare a fare un sorbetto all'abiu.

Questa è stata la mia foto d'addio, scattata la mattina che siamo ripartiti. Arrivederci, Hawaii!

limetta

lime (the English lime is also used in Italian)

I didn't know lime existed until, some time during my childhood, a TV advertisement showed a small green fruit, called lime dei Caraibi (Caribbean lime), together with a bright green shampoo (shampoo) — or maybe it was a bubble bath (bagnoschiuma). The association established by the advertisement between lime and green-colored personal hygiene items has been hard to erase from my mind, so buying and using limes does not come natural to me. Before I get out of the bathroom, let me add that the Italian word limetta has another meaning: nail file.

A little while ago, I saw a yellow lime surrounded by green companions and purchased it out of curiosity: I wanted to see what color it was inside. It was green! I loved the color contrast and should have taken a photo, but it was dinner time, there was no natural light and I was about to use the lime to make the recipe which follows. The next time I visit the store where I made such an interesting purchase, I will look for another yellow lime.

While shopping at another store, I saw a fruit called sweet lime (limetta dolce) and, of course, I had to try it. It looks like a lemon and it is indeed sweet, so I realized that it is a sort of edible contradiction, since the reason we treasure limes is their sharpness. If that quality is not there, what's the use? I still have half of the sweet lime and I am trying it in different settings, but have no success to report. Do you have any suggestion?

I have been making the following variation on the theme of cavolfiore arrosto (roasted cauliflower) for a couple of years. It was inspired by a recipe in a magazine called Healthy Cooking. I bought the October 2006 issue of the magazine out of curiosity (a title on the cover said Cook like an Italian...), as I had not seen it before and I don't think I have seen it ever since. I made a few changes to the original recipe, the last one of which is the use of succo di limetta (lime juice) instead of succo di limone (lemon juice).

Preheat oven to 425 F.
Cut a large head of cauliflower (or two small ones) into florets (cut large florets in half) and place in an oiled baking pan.
Bake for 12 minutes.
In the meantime, prepare the following in a small bowl:

• 2 tablespoons capers (capperi), drained (if you use salted capers instead, rinse them)
• a clove of garlic, minced
• 1/4 teaspoon red pepper flakes
• juice of one lime (about 3 tablespoons) 
• 1/4 cup of finely chopped parsley (prezzemolo)

Take the pan out of the oven, add the prepared mixture, stir, then distribute two tablespoons of finely chopped toasted pecans over it. Return the pan to the oven and bake until the cauliflower is ready to your liking, another 12 minutes or so. Add salt and freshly-ground pepper, to taste, stir and serve immediately.

This is my contribution to the event Fresh Produce of the Month: Citrus Fruit (other than lemons and oranges) created by my friend Marta, An Italian in the US, and hosted this month by yours truly.

This post contains the roundup of the event.

Hear me pronounce the words on the limetta audio file [mp3] or go to the limetta audio page for more listening options.

formaggio fatto in casa con le pere

homemade cheese with pears

A year ago, I wrote about the combination of cheese and pears in a post called cartolina da Orvieto (postcard from Orvieto) after enjoying it in a restaurant. I recently enjoyed the heavenly pair at home and a good portion of the enjoyment was due to the fact that the cheese was of my own production.

The road from labneh to my first small wheel of cheese was not without bumps. My first attempt at mozzarella and at cottage cheese were both failures. In the first case, I was able to save the curds and used them in a gratin dish; in the second, the garbage bin was the only option.

I paused a moment before investing money in a cheese press, then proceeded to purchase it. Not long afterward, out of my brand new Cheesypress press came a lovely lilliputian wheel of cheese that I left to age for a week (I could not wait any longer). What a thrill when we first tried it and it tasted good!

To make the cheese, I followed this recipe using yogurt to inoculate the milk. I used a quart of fresh (less than a day old) goat milk (latte di capra) and 3 quarts of non-fat cow milk (latte di mucca scremato). Based on the ingredients, I will dare to call it caciotta di capra, since it was fairly soft. You could taste the goat flavor as a delicate nuance. Pears from the new crop bought at the farmers' market were the right companion for my little success.

I then decided to try and age the cheese a bit longer. For my second attempt, I followed the instructions for Farmhouse Cheddar from "Home Cheese Making" by Ricki Carroll. The main differences from the printed recipe were that I halved the quantities and used 2 oz. of cultured buttermilk to inoculate the milk instead of mesophilic starter.

The aging of my second tiny wheel lasted almost a month, while we traveled to Italy. I omitted the waxing, using a coat of oil instead: this resulted in a drier than desirable cheese. Still, the formaggio was good and the organic pears that went with it were honored (though I am afraid that is not apparent from the photo). Asian pears got to meet my cheese as well and they got along well with it, i.e., we liked the combination.

The funny thing about my adventure in cheese making is that the strongest motivating factor behind it was the production of whey to make ricotta. I did get to make ricotta, using two different recipes. But that is a story for another day.

This is my contribution to Fresh Produce of the Month, an event created by Marta, An Italian in the US. The current edition, as you may have guessed, has pears as its theme. Here is the roundup of the event.

Hear me pronounce the words on the formaggio fatto in casa con le pere audio file [mp3] or go to the formaggio fatto in casa con le pere audio page for more listening options.

prugna

a.k.a. susina: plum

Whatever the name used to refer to it (prugna o susina), this is a fruit I have always liked, so much so that last June we planted a small plum tree (prugno, o susino) in our garden. It is doing so-so and will probably be moved to a more suitable location in the fall. Since prugna may remind you of prune, let me clarify that the latter in Italian is prugna secca (literally, dried plum).

I like pretty much all varieties of plums (prugne o susine), though I miss the one that was my favorite as a child, golden in color and very sweet. I have been buying plums at the farmers' market to eat and make fruit spread with (the most recent incarnation was a plum and blackberry mix). Together with peaches (pesche), plums suggest to me warm summer days.

Last Wednesday, it rained and then the light changed, indicating the shifting from summer to fall. We have had some wonderful sunsets, with the sky turning bright orange, then dark pink. Peaches and plums will soon become a sweet memory. Before it is too late, let me suggest an easy way of tasting them: cut a peach and one or two plums into bite-size pieces and add to them two dollops of fresh mascarpone. Sit down, relax and enjoy the warm light of the waning day. By the way, the mascarpone in the photo is home-made - by me. But that is a story for another day.

Special announcement: I have the honor of hosting the current edition of Fresh Produce of the Month, an event authored by Marta, An Italian in the US. Follow the link to see the roundup of the previous edition (about strawberries) and to read the rules for participating. This month, the focus is on eggplants (melanzane). The deadline for sending your submissions is September 21. 

Hear me pronounce the words on the prugna o susina audio file [mp3] or go to the prugna o susina audio page for more listening options.

mela

apple

I am not a breakfast person: when I get up, the first thing I crave is something hot and liquid, which translates into a cup of black tea, followed by another cup of black tea, followed, an hour or so later, by a cup of coffee made using my stovetop coffee maker. It is not until mid-morning that I turn my attention to something solid and that something has been, for more years than I can remember, una mela (an apple).

Una mela al giorno leva il medico di torno (an apple a day keeps the doctor away), you may remind me. The reason for my breakfast choice, however, is really my lifelong love for apples. It is certainly a great bonus that apples are good for my health. What has changed in the years is my favorite kind: that spot has been occupied for some time by the Mutsu apple. This time of the year it is not available in the stores, so I am currently breakfasting mostly with a Pinova apple and sometimes with a Golden Delicious. Just yesterday, I purchased some Ambrosia apples but have not yet tasted one.

So, here is the recipe for my apple-based breakfast. Take an organic apple of your liking and wash it carefully. Bite into it and savor the juicy morsel in your mouth. Chew slowly and concentrate on the texture and flavor. Repeat until you are left with just the core. Place it in your compost bin. Wait a few minutes, enjoying the apple's aftertaste, then cut yourself a small piece of excellent quality extra dark chocolate (at least 70% cocoa content) and break it into 2-3 morsels. Eat them in slow succession, savoring each one by letting it melt slowly in your mouth. Feel good.

Ricetta in italiano: colazione con la mela. Prendete una mela da coltivazione biologica e lavatela bene. Mangiatela a morsi, assaporando ogni pezzetto succoso che avete in bocca. Masticate lentamente e concentrate la vostra attenzione sul sapore. Ripetete fino a quando rimane solo il torsolo. Godetevi per qualche minuto il retrogusto della mela. Tagliate un piccolo pezzo di ottimo cioccolato amaro con almeno il 70% di cacao e spezzatelo in 2 o 3. Mangiate un pezzetto dopo l'altro, lasciandolo sciogliere lentamente in bocca per assaporarlo. Sentitevi ritemprati.

This is my contribution to the Una mela al giorno... event by rossdibi of Ma che ti sei mangiato... (but what did you eat). A year ago she had a mild stroke. Her event is a celebration of life with an attention to a diet that keeps us healthy. She asked bloggers to contribute a dish that, besides apples, features at least another ingredient from a list that includes black tea and dark chocolate. Here is the roundup.

Least I forget: after my apple and dark chocolate breakfast, I have another cup of black tea, called Black Chocolate Cream.

Hear me pronounce the words on the mela audio file [mp3] or go to the mela audio page for more listening options.

noce

walnut

The fruit of a deciduous tree (also called noce), consisting of an external hull (mallo) surrounding a hard shell (guscio), which contains the edible seed (gheriglio).

My aunt Lucia used chopped walnuts (noci) and egg whites (chiare d'uovo) to make croccanti for Christmas, then delivered small packages of them to family members. My father remembers cracking the walnuts his sister would use. At my parents' house, a tray of walnuts and hazelnuts (nocciole) was always on the kitchen counter and as a child I loved using the schiaccianoci (nutcracker) to extract the gherigli from their shell.

A bottle of home-made nocino could always be found in the glass cabinet in my aunt's kitchen. Nocino is a dark brown liqueur, whose recipe includes whole walnuts still with their green hull, cinnamon, cloves and lemon peel infused in alcohol. My aunt prescribed a small quantity of it to aid digestion and to cure a number of ailments. 

The cutest Italian expression involving walnuts is un guscio di noce (a walnut shell), used to describe a tiny boat.

We also use noce in the name of fruits that are shaped like a whole walnuts, e.g., noce moscata (nutmeg) and noce di cocco (coconut). When a recipe calls for a small piece of butter it may say una noce di burro.

Hear me pronounce the words and expressions on the noce audio file [mp3] or go to the noce audio page for more listening options.

fico

fig

Fresh figs from the farmers' market brought back sweet memories of fig picking. Different kinds of figs (fichi) ripen at different times during the summer, so when I was in Italy, summer was a season of continuous fig eating. I remember neighbors arriving at the house in my dad's village with baskets lined with fig leaves, full of sweet-smelling fruit: they never lasted long. My mother would spread peeled figs over slices of bread for a nutritious snack for me and my brother and I have been doing the same for my husband.

The summer bounty gets stashed away in the form of marmellata di fichi (fig jam) and above all fichi secchi (dried figs), which are then eaten as is, or used to make desserts like pan pepato, panciallo, the famous Sicilian buccellato and countless others.

In my home region of Umbria, the town of Amelia is famous for Fichi Girotti, dried figs stuffed with candied fruit (canditi), toasted almonds (mandorle), walnuts (noci) and cocoa (cacao). The figs are pressed into small round bricks (called rotelle), which are then broken apart to eat the heavenly morsels. The only problem with figs is that it is difficult to stop eating them once you start.

In Calabria (southern Italy), ripe figs are baked and then made into balls called palloni di fichi. Each pallone comprises 20-25 figs (there is a nice photo on this page). Dried figs are assembled in other ways as well, like crosses (crocette) and braids (trecce). In Sicily they are strung together using twine or reeds.

Two common expressions make use of figs and have correspondents in English:

• if something is not worth a fig, then non vale un fico secco
• if you don't give (or care) a fig about something, you say: non me ne importa un fico secco.

Hear me pronounce the words and expressions on the fico audio file [mp3] or go to the fico audio page for more listening options.

pesca

[pèsca] peach
[pésca] fishing

The local farmers' market is so full of peaches (pesche), I have to write about them. I hope it is clear from the audio snippet that the word pesca is pronounced differently to disambiguate the two meanings. The fruit of the peach tree (pesco) owes its name to ancient Persia: in fact the Latin word persica is a shortening of the whole name of the fruit mala persica, Persian apples. It appears that Prunus persica arrived in Persia from its original China and from there reached the Mediterranean. My father calls the fruit with its Latin name, in accordance with the dialect of his native village.

Peaches are simply excellent, whether eaten fresh off the tree or used as ingredients. My mother used to store peaches in glass jars and my task was to peal them, cut them in half, then place them in the jars. Then it was my mother's turn: she added sugar and water, and then sterilized the jars in a big pot of boiling water. During the year, we would eat pesche sciroppate con la panna (peach in syrup with whipped cream) for dessert on Sunday (never on another day: don't ask me why, because I have no idea).

Hear me pronounce the words on the pesca audio file [mp3] or go to the pesca audio page for more listening options.

mora

blackberry or mulberry

Rubus fruticosus (blackberry), Morus alba, nigra or rubra (white, black and red mulberry, respectively) — Both fruits are made of aggregated drupelets.

When more are blackberries, they grow on a rovo (blackberry bush); when they are mulberries they grow on a gelso (mulberry tree). Mulberry trees are famous also because their leaves feed silk worms, bachi da seta. As an amateur bookbinder and boxmaker, I am also familiar with mulberry paper, produced from an Asian species of mulberry tree (Morus papyrifera or Broussonetia papyrifera).

While I have no experience picking mulberries, I love picking blackberries: getting scraped by the thorns and squirted by their juice is sheer fun. In comparison, picking blueberries (mirtilli) is a subdued experience. I remember myself as a child going home purple-striped and bleeding here and there, but, oh so happy! I still get excited when I see ripening blackberries, especially since I learned to use them to make sorbet. Removing the pips makes the process a bit time-consuming and another threat to your clothes (this one even more powerful, given the concentration of the juice), but the result is worth the extra time investment. And this year I will have my brand new grembiule to protect my clothes.

I picked the first more of the season yesterday and since they were not enough for a sorbet, I used them to make muffins, adapting a recipe originally for raspberries in the current issue of EatingWell.

Well, as you can see on the photo, the result was not pretty to look at, but my husband loved it and wanted me to write his assessment: they are a cross between pancakes and muffins and offer the best of both worlds.

The unintended shape of my panfins was due to my first ever use of baking cups: according to the manufacturer, they could be used without a muffin pan, which is indeed the case, but they are too thin to hold the batter, which explains their shape.

A final note about mulberry trees: in the olden days they were planted in a way that grape vines could use them as support: the result was called viti maritate ai gelsi (vines married to mulberry trees). The practice is now being revived. Other trees can be used as well, like poplars and elms.

[This post was inspired by Peter's entry for WHB #91: zucchini carpaccio with mulberries, which he made again with blackberries and verified that either berry works well in it: thanks Peter!]

Hear me pronounce the words and expression on the mora audio file [mp3] or go to the mora audio page for more listening options.