So I finally figured out how to make sure you know where your food comes from.
Keep the cuts of meat as lively as possible. The other day I was cleaning about 20 or so tongues in a giant stainless steel sink when I thought about all those big, thick, sticky tongues that lick me every day when I milk the cows. I actually had to sit down afterwards and I'm pretty sure that I looked white in the face. Some of the tongues had cute little black spots on them, others were ripped slightly where the butcher's knife knicked the tip a little bit. My job was to clean the blood and excess skin off of them so that they could soak in a salt type base for 3 days and then in water and wine for 15 days after that. I suppose this makes the meat tender enough to eat.
I've never experienced sorrowful feelings for butchered animals but these tongues hit me in a strange way - almost the same feeling as when we perform sugery on a twisted stomach. All I could see was Anne's poor tongue sitting in a pool of blood in the bottom of a sink. As Jared mentioned, *when your parent's say all cows go to a good place, well they meant a strange shop where people are throwing tongues around and pretending to slap them in eachother's faces to freak them out.* It makes me question what *respecting the whole animal* means exactly. Is is using the animal to its fullest, without wasting any of it - or is it supposed to mean that we shouldn't throw meat around in a joking way?
The shenanigans that go on at Dario Cecchini's shop are hilarious, lets just say there are many uses for the meat that is butchered there.
20.10.10
12.10.10
Mac Dario
Here's a picture of me making burgers for Mac Dario. The rediculousness of this kitchen makes my abs hurt from laughing every day. Riccardo decided that when I speak English really fast I basically sound like a mixture between a dog and a T-Rex.
10.10.10
Chapter 2: Antica Macelleria Cecchini
You may be wondering why I haven't posted basically anything since arriving in Tuscany. Apparently I came at a very busy time. Here's the lowdown on what I've done so far.
1. Participated in a rediculously intense wine parade in Inpruneta - months of work goes into building floats and practicing the dances. Every night there is a family style dinner served at each team's "camp out." (there are four teams that compete for the best performance, one for each main street in the city.) Community is a huge deal in Tuscany and this was proven to me from the moment I arrived.
2. Ate a huge Tuscan family dinner and felt sick for two days after. They never stop feeding you here, I don't know how everyone is not overweight.
3. Went running. By the second day of feeling like I was about to die, I figured running would be the best option. Lets just say there are no flat roads in Tuscany.
4. Slept through Dario's wedding. Having been exhausted by the festivities of the previous week I passed out in the apartment across from the Macelleria where the stagista's (including myself) stay. One thing about staying a long time in one place is that you eventually burn out, unlike on vacation where you sleep when you return home.
5. Helped with a catering for a super rich Swiss man who owns lots of antique cars. He decided to do a tour through Tuscany so he invited all his friends to drive his cars and brought them to Dario's. We served them their meat in an ancient castle in Panzano which Dario owns. He basically owns the entire town.
6. Went to Pisa. Well if you call it an official trip. Riccardo needed to pick up a friend at the airport at 1:30 in the morning, so I tagged along to keep him awake for the drive. I took a picture of a picture of the leaning tower because Riccardo refused to take me to see the real tower at 1 in the morning.
7. Participated in a huge butcher festival. Once every five or six years there is a butcher festival outside of the Macelleria. Butchers from all over Italy and a few from Australia came to participate. I ate Kangaroo for the first time. I learned that Italians love noise. If there is something that makes noise they will encourage everyone to participate.
8. Became a Fiorentina fan - and am attempting to learn the soccer songs in Italian, but its pretty slow going right now.
Its interesting to see how business is run in Italy. Its very cash focused, but somehow the accounting system is fairly intense. I imagined that it would be lax and confusing, but it seems to be in working order. Dario manages his business very closely. Every meat mixture is seasoned by him in order to keep the recipes both a secret and consistent. The employees will grind and mix the meat, but when its seasoning time the entire bowl goes out into the butcher shop where Dario ensures that everything is done to perfection. Its very interesting to come into this atmosphere with a business degree and see the differences between cultures and the hierarchy of importance in this country vs. Canada.
1. Participated in a rediculously intense wine parade in Inpruneta - months of work goes into building floats and practicing the dances. Every night there is a family style dinner served at each team's "camp out." (there are four teams that compete for the best performance, one for each main street in the city.) Community is a huge deal in Tuscany and this was proven to me from the moment I arrived.
2. Ate a huge Tuscan family dinner and felt sick for two days after. They never stop feeding you here, I don't know how everyone is not overweight.
3. Went running. By the second day of feeling like I was about to die, I figured running would be the best option. Lets just say there are no flat roads in Tuscany.
4. Slept through Dario's wedding. Having been exhausted by the festivities of the previous week I passed out in the apartment across from the Macelleria where the stagista's (including myself) stay. One thing about staying a long time in one place is that you eventually burn out, unlike on vacation where you sleep when you return home.
5. Helped with a catering for a super rich Swiss man who owns lots of antique cars. He decided to do a tour through Tuscany so he invited all his friends to drive his cars and brought them to Dario's. We served them their meat in an ancient castle in Panzano which Dario owns. He basically owns the entire town.
6. Went to Pisa. Well if you call it an official trip. Riccardo needed to pick up a friend at the airport at 1:30 in the morning, so I tagged along to keep him awake for the drive. I took a picture of a picture of the leaning tower because Riccardo refused to take me to see the real tower at 1 in the morning.
7. Participated in a huge butcher festival. Once every five or six years there is a butcher festival outside of the Macelleria. Butchers from all over Italy and a few from Australia came to participate. I ate Kangaroo for the first time. I learned that Italians love noise. If there is something that makes noise they will encourage everyone to participate.
8. Became a Fiorentina fan - and am attempting to learn the soccer songs in Italian, but its pretty slow going right now.
Its interesting to see how business is run in Italy. Its very cash focused, but somehow the accounting system is fairly intense. I imagined that it would be lax and confusing, but it seems to be in working order. Dario manages his business very closely. Every meat mixture is seasoned by him in order to keep the recipes both a secret and consistent. The employees will grind and mix the meat, but when its seasoning time the entire bowl goes out into the butcher shop where Dario ensures that everything is done to perfection. Its very interesting to come into this atmosphere with a business degree and see the differences between cultures and the hierarchy of importance in this country vs. Canada.
1.10.10
The End of Amsterdam
Haven't had the chance to post some older blog posts - so here is one for your enjoyment.
I did it. I asked a local where some good Nasi is, and then proceeded to find the Indonesian restaurant that she described. Only to find it closed. My dream of becoming a fantastic world traveller was smooshed before had begun. Katie and I walked around most of Amsterdam after our Heineken tour in a bit of a daze until we found ourselves… well… back at the Heineken experience. Amsterdam has a funny way of doing that to visitors. We stopped back in and found our informative host and asked to find us another possibility. Katie and I made a brief pit stop at the exhibits only to find our host was missing. Depressed and hungry we tottered on to find something acceptable to eat – no more cardboard oatmeal from home.
I suppose I should explain some of my goals for Amsterdam.
1. Eat snert
2. Eat Nasi Gorgen
3. See the Anne Frank Huis
4. Van Gogh, Van Gogh, Van Gogh – but only to see Starry Night
5. Walk through local areas where the true feeling of Amsterdam can actually be felt.
6. See the smallest house in the world.
I did 4 of 6. It’s a pass. Starry night was on tour somewhere else in the world, and the fact that its not wintertime crushed my ability to divulge into Snert.
Continuing the story, we chatted and padded through the street of Amsterdam in hopes of finding our way to the smallest house in the world before it got too dark. Katie pointed out – “hey, there’s an Indonesian place.” It happened to be the exact restaurant that had been suggested to us by the employee at the Heineken Experience! And it was open! It was our first experience with the European style of taking a break in the afternoon. We sauntered in, took inventory of the situation, and approved that this would be authentic Indonesian cuisine. And that it was. Sorry mom but this kicked the crap out of your Nasi, although I think some of the spices may have been similar (clearly – as it’s the same dish!)
We ate and drank wine – after deciding it would be cheaper than water anyways and filled our tummies with this lekker food. Continuing on that evening we did find the smallest house in the world, which Mariete gladly helped me find the address for, and looking like complete idiots composed yoga poses in front of the door – which is basically the width of the house. A young Asian man was walking down the street as our shenanigans continued, pulled out his keys, and proceeded to enter into the house! After a few minutes we spotted him staring at us confusingly from one of the upper windows. Therefore, we actually saw the man who lives in the smallest house in the world too! We are practically superstars.
Last night Katie and I watched some more HIMYM episodes and then passed out. Until we were rudely awakened by… well I should give you some background on our hostel. It consists of 10 beds on the fourth floor in the fourth room. There is Katie and I, a girl from China, four girls who were travelling together and five middle aged ladies rattling of in Italian. These women were clearly on some sort of girls excursion. They sat in their pyjamas on each other’s beds chatting, laughing, and calling home ending their conversations with ciao! Ci-ci-ci-ciao-ciao-ciao. They reminded me of some other ladies I know who seem to plan an excursion once a year to rough it.
So anyways – 3 am hit this morning to the loudest screaming of bloody murder my ears have ever witnessed. I was awoken from my dream that I had missed my plane to Florence, and actually thought there was some sort of gunman in the room. The terrified version of Italian is not that pleasant and the uncontrollable laughter from the woman’s four friends did not assist my heartbeat desparately attempting to slow down. I checked my little alarm clock to see what time it was. It said, 12:30. The batteries hadn’t been connected and my alarm wouldn’t have gone off to wake me for my flight. I reset it, double checked it, and turned over and said “shhhhh per favoure!”
I am sitting on an airplane heading to my second destination on time, with little to no sleep under my belt. But I did wake up this morning to catch my train to Schipol and then my flight to Firenze. Thanks crazy Italian ladies snoring, mumbling, screaming, and laughing throughout the entire night!
I did it. I asked a local where some good Nasi is, and then proceeded to find the Indonesian restaurant that she described. Only to find it closed. My dream of becoming a fantastic world traveller was smooshed before had begun. Katie and I walked around most of Amsterdam after our Heineken tour in a bit of a daze until we found ourselves… well… back at the Heineken experience. Amsterdam has a funny way of doing that to visitors. We stopped back in and found our informative host and asked to find us another possibility. Katie and I made a brief pit stop at the exhibits only to find our host was missing. Depressed and hungry we tottered on to find something acceptable to eat – no more cardboard oatmeal from home.
I suppose I should explain some of my goals for Amsterdam.
1. Eat snert
2. Eat Nasi Gorgen
3. See the Anne Frank Huis
4. Van Gogh, Van Gogh, Van Gogh – but only to see Starry Night
5. Walk through local areas where the true feeling of Amsterdam can actually be felt.
6. See the smallest house in the world.
I did 4 of 6. It’s a pass. Starry night was on tour somewhere else in the world, and the fact that its not wintertime crushed my ability to divulge into Snert.
Continuing the story, we chatted and padded through the street of Amsterdam in hopes of finding our way to the smallest house in the world before it got too dark. Katie pointed out – “hey, there’s an Indonesian place.” It happened to be the exact restaurant that had been suggested to us by the employee at the Heineken Experience! And it was open! It was our first experience with the European style of taking a break in the afternoon. We sauntered in, took inventory of the situation, and approved that this would be authentic Indonesian cuisine. And that it was. Sorry mom but this kicked the crap out of your Nasi, although I think some of the spices may have been similar (clearly – as it’s the same dish!)
We ate and drank wine – after deciding it would be cheaper than water anyways and filled our tummies with this lekker food. Continuing on that evening we did find the smallest house in the world, which Mariete gladly helped me find the address for, and looking like complete idiots composed yoga poses in front of the door – which is basically the width of the house. A young Asian man was walking down the street as our shenanigans continued, pulled out his keys, and proceeded to enter into the house! After a few minutes we spotted him staring at us confusingly from one of the upper windows. Therefore, we actually saw the man who lives in the smallest house in the world too! We are practically superstars.
Last night Katie and I watched some more HIMYM episodes and then passed out. Until we were rudely awakened by… well I should give you some background on our hostel. It consists of 10 beds on the fourth floor in the fourth room. There is Katie and I, a girl from China, four girls who were travelling together and five middle aged ladies rattling of in Italian. These women were clearly on some sort of girls excursion. They sat in their pyjamas on each other’s beds chatting, laughing, and calling home ending their conversations with ciao! Ci-ci-ci-ciao-ciao-ciao. They reminded me of some other ladies I know who seem to plan an excursion once a year to rough it.
So anyways – 3 am hit this morning to the loudest screaming of bloody murder my ears have ever witnessed. I was awoken from my dream that I had missed my plane to Florence, and actually thought there was some sort of gunman in the room. The terrified version of Italian is not that pleasant and the uncontrollable laughter from the woman’s four friends did not assist my heartbeat desparately attempting to slow down. I checked my little alarm clock to see what time it was. It said, 12:30. The batteries hadn’t been connected and my alarm wouldn’t have gone off to wake me for my flight. I reset it, double checked it, and turned over and said “shhhhh per favoure!”
I am sitting on an airplane heading to my second destination on time, with little to no sleep under my belt. But I did wake up this morning to catch my train to Schipol and then my flight to Firenze. Thanks crazy Italian ladies snoring, mumbling, screaming, and laughing throughout the entire night!
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