When I was fourteen, I decided that I was Italian. It didn't matter that I didn't look Italian, didn't speak Italian, and didn't have an Italian last name. All could be remedied. I dyed my hair (Mother had a fit), I went to Catholic Church on Sunday (Mother had a fit), I wore tight jeans, white tailored shirts, and heels (Mother had a fit), and I listened to Italian opera on the radio, LOUD Italian opera (my brother had a fit). Surely if I said "Ciao" for good-bye, I would be mistaken for Italian. When Mom saw me on the kitchen floor surrounded by boxes of pasta - fusilli, farfalle, ziti, conchiglie, orecchette, vermicelli, rotelle - she asked me, smiling wryly, "What are you making us for dinner, honey?"
I barely noticed my mother's attempt at humor. I was swooning in a pasta epiphany. I realized - for the first time - that I could travel through food. To Italy! I could escape from my boring life. Food was my magic carpet.
I ran to the library, took out every Italian cookbook, and studied them as if I were in Dumbledore's Army - as if each recipe were a transformative incantation. Venezia, Firenza, Roma, Sicilia! With the pictures of these exotic places in my mind, I began to teach myself to cook.
My family chowed down, and Mom was happy her anorexic teenager wasn't wrinkling her nose at her tuna casserole (had she called it farfelle con tune e quattro formaggi, I might have tasted it).
Food can take you anywhere you like. Need a quick vacation, a picnic on the Rhone, a sail through the purple waters off of Corsica, a night in Paris? Go to your kitchen. Open a cookbook. Prepare a gastronomic holiday.
To get started on your vacation, first pour yourself a glass of Mad Housewife wine. From the first lovely sip of Chardonnay - pears, apples, cinnamon - you soar over the lavender fields of Provence. The plum and vanilla of the Merlot take you to Barcelona. The White Zinfandel, over the rolling vineyards of Orvieto. And the Cabernet - rich with the taste of ripe cherries and mocha - to Paris, where else?
The Mad Housewife is on vacation! No phone calls, please!
We start tonight's grand tour in Italy, our course.
Tuscan Chicken
(Serves two)
2 skinless, boneless chicken breasts
2 tablespoons olive oil
2 cloves garlic
pinch red pepper flakes
8 ounces fresh spinach
1/2 cup Mad Housewife Chardonnay
4 ounces mushrooms (preferably portabella)
4 sprigs fresh basil
4 Roma tomatoes, sliced
2 slices provolone cheese
salt and pepper
1. Saute garlic and red pepper flakes in olive oil in a large skillet until browned. Add chicken breasts, and cook the one side until nicely browned, about 2 minutes.
2. Flip chicken, add tomatoes, mushrooms, wine, and basil. Tuck spinach in around the sides. Lower heat, cover, and cook about 5 minutes.
3. Remove from heat and place one slice of cheese on each chicken breast. Add salt and pepper. Cover until cheese has melted.
Serve with rice or pasta, and Mad Housewife Chardonnay (you've already opened the bottle).
Buon Appetito!
Ciao for Now!
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