Since I was just a little girl I was intrigued by a dish that for me, accustomed to the common names of rabbit or chicken, had an aristocratic and rich charm: the duck à l’orange. I remember that one of my uncles was always saying that he would not stay for dinner with us unless we made the duck à l’orange. It was just a joke, but every time I believed him! What had of so striking special the duck à l’orange?

The duck à l’orange has ancient origins. The duck was bred and cooked in China over three thousands years ago, then arrived in Europe much later, was appreciated by the Romans and later deeply loved by the British people. It is said that the duck à l’orange, usually considered French, was actually created  in Florence and brought to the court of Francis I by Caterina de’ Medici, who married his son Henry II… but this is a legend and probably both the French and the Italians had already realized that the orange is really gorgeous with the rich and fat duck meat.

One day mum surprised me and made the duck à l’orange. She replied to my Uncles’ joke with another joke: it was not duck, but a more prosaic guinea-fowl. Though I asked Mom where the recipe came from, we could not figure out exactly when she started cooking it and who has passed her the recipe.

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On Sunday I went to the sea. Even though it’s September, although the schools have already started and this summer is running out, this was my first time at the sea. If I didn’t have to get back to the office, I wouldn’t have even had a shower, to keep the brackish smell of sea, sun and sand on my skin. Autumn and winter will be long, and I wanted to save the salty memories of a day at the beach with Claudia as long as I could.

We went to Castiglione della Pescaia in a tiny beach that stubbornly defends its golden sand and Mediterranean plants from the surrounding bathing establishments. It’s the same beach where I used to go as a child with mom, dad, my cousin and my aunt and uncle. Claudia was too young to remember it, but it’s there that she made ​​her first bath in the sea and ate curious her first handful of sand.

Nothing has changed, the smell, the sounds, the light … everything was the same as in my memories.
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Summer, time of preserves. Once again the protagonists are the tomatoes, in a simple version, pure: the preserve, a universal name that does not need specification, because in my house the preserve is exclusively the preserve of tomatoes.

In the collective imagination the tomato is one of the elements that more represent Italy, along with mozzarella, olive oil and pasta. The tomato is used into the pomarola sauce, into the impressive Neapolitan pizza, the caprese salad and my family meat sauce.

Yet it is not always been so. The tomatoes came from Spain to Italy, in Naples, during the Spanish domination, and only at the end of the eighteenth century we began to use them as food: we have spent so much time to understand how gorgeous they are, both cooked and raw! Read the rest of this entry »