chowgypsy

Want to Travel for Free? Get my Guidebook + Memoir for Free (Yep, It Finally Happened)

2018-12-14T18:37:00.000+01:00

Ahhh, it feels good to be here.

Like slipping on my favorite comfy coat. Climbing into bed after a long day. Walking into a room full of old friends.

I found a book in the Chowgypsy maunderings, and I’d like you to find it too. The search won't be difficult. In fact, the book is right here: Everywhere for Nothing: Free Travel for the Modern Nomad.

Too many people responded to my free travels with widened eyes that said, “I never knew something like that existed!”

So, I had to do something about it. I had to let everybody know that free travel isn’t some magician’s trick. You can be as basic as, well, me, and get started as soon as today.

I wrote this book because we need more open minds. We need happier people. We need to realize that the world isn’t so big, but our lives are so short.

There will be five days in the coming weeks when the book is free for Kindle.

One of those days is Monday (December 17th), and I’d love for you to get one for yourself and maybe share on social media that this potentially life-changing book is free right now.

Yes, ‘free’ is in the title; no, it’s not a gimmick. This is more than just budget travel or cheap vacations. You've seen most of it happen here on the blog ...

I've combed over thirty countries and hundreds of cities; taken every imaginable mode of transport; roomed with over forty foreign families; and lived the most exciting, sleepless, fun, meaningful, and/or dangerous times of my life—all to find the best tips, secrets, and hacks to travel for free.

There've been stories, too. Experiences strange and wonderful. The book is peppered with them, so it's not all guide stuff. It's fun stuff, too.

This ain’t about profit. It’s about travel for the masses.

Let’s do this.

Check it out: click here

Stay updated at my other blog: Bossmeggan.com

A Sabbatical-ish Italian Extravaganza

2013-10-07T15:13:00.000+02:00

The return of the Chowgypsy.

And then there was that morning that I groggily woke up early in the Cinque Terre, looked out the window, and noticed an old lady hastily selling vegetables out of the back of her car. I think it was some sort of Vegetable Mafia coup. Vegetables are a rare sighting in the upper half of Italy, so I braved the storm of clamoring old Italian ladies and descended.

After about four weeks of intensive gypsy-style vagabonding, eating, volunteering, more eating, and general exploration, I have finally settled for a fitting chunk of time in a place with a relaxing and open workspace.

With a mind that is as distractable as a kitten's, if there is no space, there is probably no work.

(No hard work, at least.)

The new digs in Tuscany. John and I have a cozy little downstairs apartment with a half-kitchen and loads of privacy.
Situations like this make volunteering absurdly easy.

My sabbatical has been filled with extreme/strange diets (ranging from quasi-veganism to a form of all-pork gluttony), a six-day visit from my parents, a seven-day visit from a friend, lots of ragu, at least 50 hours spent white washing walls, and, within all of that, visits to TWELVE glorious Italian towns.

Did somebody say photo recap?

Yet another stunning cathedral in northern Italy, the Madonna di Tirano, which dates back to 1505

Ancient carvings (from the Neolithic and Iron Ages) on the Rupe Magna at Il Parco delle Incisioni Rupestri in Grosio, Italy. Screw up your eyes and you can see figures at top right and toward the bottom left

A hike in Valtellina Valley's Parco Orobie

Approaching Lake Como's quaint town of Varenna

It's porcini season. Beautiful, beautiful porcini season.

Venice, the Disney World for adults. Note: this photo was not taken from a gondola. Stay AWAY from the gondolas unless you love wasting money.

Bunny ears: They never get old. Or do they?

One of my tasks at our previous farm was picking some of the ample tomato harvest and drying them in the heat of the greenhouse. Sun dried tomato much?

Eating one of the three entree options at Trattoria di Ermes in Modena: Roasted Rabbit (and the best I've ever had).

Bologna's Pasta Fresca, run by a mother & daughter team and serving the BEST fresh pasta and sauces...ever.

A well-served Italian coffee should come with a little glass of water for before-and-after palate cleansing

Visiting a Prosciutto di Parma factory with over 50,000 curing legs (more on that later)

Visiting a factory of the KING, Parmigiano Reggiano (obviously more on that later)

A real producer of Balsami of Modena (boy do we need to talk)

Dark chocolate, yogurt, and blueberry. Gelato art.

Meeting up with Sir Dante Alighieri on a walk through Florence. Are we surprised he looks serious?

Coppa, sopresatta, and prosciutto with a side of pickled vegetable sand marinated Bitto cheese.

A little morning surprise celebrating fig season (they're perfectly ripe when green on some species)

John and our visiting friend Kristen soaking up the day in Florence

Clearly we have some catching up to do.

Over the next few weeks I'll be sifting through all of the writing that I surprisingly have (mostly) been keeping up with in order to fuse them together with the surplus of unedited photos currently glaring at me from my laptop.

Hopefully I can make this deluge of memories into a few blogworthy forms, but it's going to take a little backwards time-travel.

Namely, I wouldn't actually mind going back to this time: A secluded beach between Cinque Terre's Vernazza and Corniglia where, apart from a large and awkward speedo-donned man, John, Kristen, and I had the Italian coast to ourselves.

Regarding the future, however, John and I are actually slated to return (!!) to dear old North America in November, which means (dare I say it?!), Chowgypsy will be Chowgypsying Stateside for a while.

What better way to avoid the oncoming end than to live in the past?

(I don't know if that's actually sound reasoning.)

At any rate, be a pal and travel back to Teglio with me, to the days just before leaving Paolo and Marisa's, and we'll careen toward the end together.

I ain't through with you yet, Northern Italy.

Stay tuned...!

Parents and Piodas

2013-09-23T17:25:00.000+02:00

With a pleasant twist of flying-standby fate, my parents were forced to fly into Italy earlier than expected for a long-anticipated visit, which means that John and I have an extra two days with them here in the Alps.

Oh yes, find a job working for the airlines and you, too, can visit your children in Europe for less money than a road trip to the next state over.

Just a casual evening walk through ancient churches and the Italian Alps. We do this every night.

Trekking up to nearby Teglio, a 30-minute uphill walk (single file style optional).

For $50 a night in a B&B that's only five minutes away, we've realized that this should've been the plan to begin with. And since the only plans for the weekend are to house/petsit while Paolo and Marisa take their prize-winning Bernese "Doc" to an international dog show in Switzerland, things couldn't have worked out better.

Workouts with the prize-winner

A little leisure at the B&B

To show our appreciation for their overseas trek, John and I decided on a home-cooked meal using Paolo's pioda. The pioda is a large flat stone that was historically the roofing of choice for this area because it was abundantly mined from the surrounding Valtellina Valley (although cheaper and easier—though not necessarily better— methods have become the norm since then).

Eventually, some crafty Italian figured out that the stone would also make a perfect source for grilling. Word spread, and this big beautiful hot plate of stone was born for all of your grilling needs.

The pioda stone as roofing! When used for cooking, it's typically two inches thick and should be taken care of like a cast iron skillet.

The pioda is kept low to the ground in order to keep the fire directly underneath. Here we have one of Paolo's fresh-caught meals. River trout rubbed with local herbs.

The food ends up being infused with the scent of the smoking wood that burns directly underneath, but without grill grates, whatever you're cooking seems to maintain moisture especially well yet remain perfectly crisp.

I took a page from Paolo's book and made a revised pesto with parsley and salt-brined capers thrown in with basil and EVOO, which was a fresh and fitting spread for both the grilled meat and the vegetables.

With Paolo's rather "hearty" cooking absent for the weekend, we opted for a vegetable bonanza.

Perfectly pioda-grilled freshwater trout from the nearby Adda river rubbed with local herbs and lemon

Keeping dessert simple, we opted for local chestnut honey, the first figs of the season (praise Jesus!), a hunk of 24-month Parmigiano Reggiano, and a layered "cake" of gorgonzola dolce and mascarpone.

The first place we hit when mom and dad arrived: the Sondrio food market, of course.

The lighting may be poor, but luckily that has nothing to do with flavor. This is what honey is made for (thanks bees).

Life away from home and family can be hard. It can be amazing, but it can be hard. It's nice to have the folks around.

Ca Branchi was my parents fantastic B&B that sits just below the town of Teglio and is run, aptly, by a Swiss woman named Heidi. It's a bit out of the way, but the views are worth it. If you're interested in booking, don't judge the place based off its sorely out-of-date website. Take my word, it's worth a visit!

Tomorrow we celebrate the anniversary of the day Teglio made peace with Switzerland, some 500 years ago. Huzzah, history!

(Avoid this Recipe) Terribly Delicious Chestnut Buckwheat Banana Bread

2013-09-17T20:10:00.000+02:00

Three aging bananas sat staring at me in Paolo's kitchen, and I knew something had to be done.

Let it be said: bananas are an amazing and tasty fruit. You know this. Monkeys know this.

Nonetheless, I am typically not in favor of banana consumption because of the miles undertaken to get a banana from point A to B (say, for example, Peru to Italy). Those miles are paid for in more ways than your .60 cents per pound bounty.

(I'm not even going to get into the conditions on most banana plantations; whether you're buying "organic" or not. Organic says nothing about fair trade, and this industry can be notably horrendous.)

Can you guess what it is that I decided had to be done??

But.

But . . . I didn't purchase these bananas, so am I such a hypocrite if I consume them before they go bad?

And am I so terrible if I guiltily enjoy this occasion of being forced to save bananas from a disgraceful, wasted end?

And if it happens to be the case that you have candied walnuts, you know what to do.

Make it look sweet and glazey with just a bit of local honey immediately after removing from the oven

The excitement of living in a region that produces buckwheat flour and chestnut flour has yet to wear off (see my chestnut buckwheat bread recipe), and so I smiled a bittersweet and salivating smile as I began improvising Chestnut Buckwheat Banana Bread.

You can probably substitute any flour for this recipe, but if you can track down buckwheat and chestnut flour, I suggest following my lead. But, keep the chestnut ratio around 2/3rd because of its tendency to brown quickly.

Whether or not it matters to you that this recipe is gluten free, it is. But that's neither here nor there, because why use regular flour if you can have the hearty flavor of buckwheat and the sweet nuttiness of chestnut (um, and it's healthier)?

Also note that I omit any sugar because I like to drizzle [local] honey over my bread. Like a boss.

Yeah, I guess this is an ok spot to eat this completely Italian version of banana bread. Fine.

Chestnut Buckwheat Banana Bread
Ingredients
1 1/2 cup chestnut flour
1 cup buckwheat flour
3 extremely ripe large bananas
1 cup milk (or milk substitute)
2 eggs* (use one egg for a drier texture)
1/4 cup EVOO (substitute butter if you like saturated fat)
1 tbs fresh lemon juice or apple cider (this is to give the baking soda something to react with and will be flavorless once baked)
2 tsp baking soda
1-2 tsp cinnamon (I buy it in bulk—save dat money!)
1 tsp ground ginger
1/2 tsp ground nutmeg
1/4 tsp salt
optional: 1/2 cup toasted walnuts and/or dark chocolate chips
*if you're out of eggs or vegan substitute with 1/4 cup yogurt or applesauce or an extra banana)

Directions
Preheat oven to 350 F/180 C. Grease a bread pan or, in my case, a bundt pan.

Sift together flours, salt, baking soda, and spices

Whisk egg, lemon juice, milk, and EVOO together. Mash bananas into a puree and whisk in with the liquids. Stir this into the flour mixture until just combined, then fold in walnuts or chocolate chips, if using.

Pour the batter into the greased pan and bake for about 30-40 minutes, until a toothpick comes out relatively clean. Easy breezy.

ok, so I undercooked this a bit. But I like a moist banana bread, and so did all of the mouths that tried this.

The bread comes out moist, almost cakey, but without any added sweeteners (thanks, natural sweetness of bananas and chestnuts!).

Drizzle it with honey when just out of the oven for a glazed look, or if you just so happen to have candied walnuts on-hand, sprinkle away, my friend.

I know this is an odd way to close out a post centering on bananas, but I humbly request that you not put yourself in a situation where you can make this recipe.

If you'd like to read another great opinion on why you should stay away from bananas unless you're in a country that grows them and they come from a fair trade source, read Darya Rose's opinion here.

Tirano and Grosio: Italian Day Trips in the Pandino

2013-09-15T10:51:00.000+02:00

When someone gives you the keys to their '91 Fiat Panda, you don't just shrug the offer off. You grab said keys, stick 'em in the ignition, and head off deliriously into the mountains and valleys of Northeast Italy.

(Fact.)

The beautiful panda, affectionately known as "Pandino." Take it and run

Teglio, the tiny mountain town on the outskirts of which John and I are currently volunteering, is the rustic neighbor to two also rustic mountain towns called Grosio and Tirano. All live in the happy province of Sondrio, which is also the name of the largest city in the area.

Overloooking Visconti Castle and the town of Grosio just before the skies opened up

If you're in Italy's Lombardy region or even Southeast Switzerland, Grosio and Tirano are two great day trip options running along the Italian-Swiss border.

Tirano
Heading up from Sondrio on SS38 you'll nudge your way into Tirano after about 15 miles of beautiful scenery that runs along the Adda River. The Basilica of the Santuario Madonna di Tirano is the grand landmark to let you know you've reached Tirano, so hop out of your car and walk around the cute square over which it presides.

The Madonna di Tirano, which was begun in 1504 after the Virgin Mary herself appeared at a feast and requested that it be done.

This first area is Tirano's historical center and it has several restaurants with views of the square and surrounding mountains.

The stunning interior of the Madonna di Tirano...makes Tirano worth a visit all by itself

And for some reason, there's also a shop with this complete replica of New York City off the square of the Old City

We stopped at Ristorante La Botte for the local specialty, pizzoccheri(peas-oh-care-ee), a buckwheat pasta with a butter sauce, chunks of regional cheese, and usually savoy cabbage and potato mixed in.

It is, essentially, the richest pasta dish you'll ever eat, and you absolutely mustn't miss it when you're in the Valtellina Valley region.

Handmade pizzocheri with oozing cheese chunks, potato, cabbage, and lots of butter. Thick, decadent, and beautiful

A pizza with tomato, red onion, olives, capers, and anchovies. Salt much?

About a half mile's walk past the historical center you'll come upon a more revamped Tirano with lots more shops and restaurants, but be warned that it's much less charming than the "old" section, as revamped things often tend to be.

Nothing, though, is as charming as this tiny dog in this tiny truck.

Tirano's main claim to fame is that the Bernina Express stops there and runs to and from Switzerland's Chur, crossing some of the Alps' most stunning vistas in the process.

The train's huge windows allow you to see fantastic scenery from glaciers to mountain lakes; some sections even have the honor of being dubbed World Heritage Sites.

Another view of the cieling of the Madonna di Tirano. Can we go back to doing things like this?

Grosio
After a stroll and maybe some lunch in Tirano, continue on SS38 (and then SS78) for about 15 minutes until you arrive to Grosio. Now, I've told you to lunch in Tirano, because the main thing Grosio has going for it is the amazing Rock Engraving Park (Il Parco delle Incisioni Rupestri).

Lack of restaurants aside, this town is absolutely worth a visit.

La Rupe Magna, 275 feet long by 115 wide, is majestically shaped like a breaching whale. It's covered with thousands of nearly-hidden engravings, and if you take off your shoes (which gives a nice primal feeling to everything) you're allowed to hunt them down yourself.

The park is home to a huge rock with more than 5,000 engraved figures from between the Neolithic and Iron ages (IV mill. BC - I mill. BC) carved along its face. Set aside at least half an hour to search them out, though, because we struggled to find any at all.

Just past the rock you'll find Castle Hill, which is dominated by the Old Castle of San Faustino (X - XI century) and its replacement, the "New" Visconti Castle (XIV century).

Incorporate your surroundings for good Feng Shui

Not easy to spot at first, but here you can see a rake!

After nearly an hour we found this little antelope figure

I think someone chose a good castle location.

Note: During some periods the park is only open on weekends or is not open at all. Be sure to call +39 346 333 1405 or e-mail info@parcoincisionigrosio.it for operating hours. Park entry is free.

After our primal rock hunting, we stopped in the town's Valentino Pub for an affogato, then headed back to Teglio for our dogs, vineyards, and more of Paolo's fantastic food.

Just a typical night with the big guys (seven others aren't pictured...)

Success.

(stay tuned for more!)

The Pleasures of Italian Volunteering and Authentic Sausage and Mushroom Risotto

2013-09-13T10:36:00.000+02:00

Well folks, I'm pretty sure that my life is not real. I wake overlooking the Alps. I work with the feel of round ripening grapes underhand. And I eat—ohhh, do I eat—with the pomp and pleasure of an Italian goddess.

Beats a restaurant view, wouldn't you say?

Perhaps I sound melodramatic, but after fourteen months of traveling and volunteering as a means to see the world—and moreover, the world's food—we've happened upon one of those rare and delectable exchanges for which I'd initially set out searching.

Like caring for hope-filled and ~~tasty~~ tiny babies; you just feel good being around them

There's a nearly limitless amount of work that I would do for this: melon, gorgonzola/mascarpone "cake," and lardo .

When I began arranging this trip, the word "farm work" produced visions of produce planting, harvesting, eating local food at every meal, and other expectations that turned out to be overly-idealistic.

Not to say we didn't learn things, because overall we're walking away with loads of new farming and general life knowledge. Yet overall, the reality of volunteering on other peoples' "farms" often turned out to be something more like weeding, weeding, cleaning, clearing, weeding, and maybe some local foods thrown in here and there.

Exception #1) Nar's Organic Farm in Turkey. How I long for those days of huddling by the fire and eating some of the best food I've ever tasted

Exception #2) Pub life at the Grampus Inn was pretty luscious: Eating off the menu full of local foods, real ales, and a Sunday Roast in exchange for kitchen/cleaning help.

It's not that these programs (see HelpX, Workaway, and Wwoof) for volunteering on farms are some sort of sham, it's just that maybe I wasn't choosing big enough farms, maybe I wasn't reading between the lines to deduce what we would really be doing, and maybe the people who love food the way I do are just fewer and farther between than what I thought.

Paolo and John practice a little food appreciation while cooking freshly-caught river trout on the traditional Valtellina region pioda grilling stone

Rule: If you love food, buy whole chunks of cured meat (e.g. speck), a personal meat slicer (obviously), and slice it just before eating for best flavor.

At any rate, we know now what to look for when we peruse the host profiles in search of an experience worth traveling for (a post on those specifics soon), and our experience has paid off with Paolo and Marisa. Our four to five hours spent in the vineyard is the type of work in which you lose yourself, reaching an almost meditative state after enough hours of leaf clearing and vine straightening.

At the end of the day, you've helped something beautiful and ancient go on living, and it feels good.

The view of Teglio's stone watchtower from the vineyard

This is also kind of how you feel at the end of the day.

Do you know what else feels good? Paolo's cooking.

Besides giving us a bedroom with a stunning view of snow-capped Italian Alps, the real way in which he gives meaning to the word "exchange" is though the heart he puts into our meals.

I hope you're hungry: Authentic Italian risotto with sausage and mushrooms. Paolo (not to be confused with the "Paleo" diet trend) Style.

And it's your lucky day, because he's just shared a big one with us. Now, I know that this is hard for us English-speaking cultures to hear, but Italians don't really use exact measurements. Cooking is fluid, adjustable, and romantic; there must always be room for change and improvisation.

So, use the following recipe as a guide, but when it comes down to it, follow your intuition, and don't worry if it takes a few tries to find your own perfect risotto recipe. IF I were doing a life metaphor here, it would be delicious (eyerolls invited).

Paolo's Risotto con Salsicce e Funghi (Risotto with Sausage and Mushrooms)
Ingredients
4 cups beef stock (make your own or use a box of 32 oz stock, I suggest Imagine Organics)
2 cups water
1 generous cup dried mushrooms (porcini are ideal)
2 large Italian sausages (ask your butcher and go for quality, not sodium and strange additives), coarsely chopped/torn
2 cups arborio/risotto rice (Paolo says "one handful per person"...and I say "buy organic!")
1/2 cup grated Parmigiano-Reggiano (DO NOT BUY those pre-grated shards of plastic. And if real parm is too pricey, I suggest Grana Padano or California's Vella Dry Jack)
2-3 cloves garlic, chopped
4 tbs butter, separated
2 tbs EVOO
1/2 tbs dried thyme

I want seconds and I haven't even started eating

Fill that empty glass and we're in business

Directions
In a tall, thick pot, warm the 2 cups of water until it has nearly begun to simmer. Turn off the heat and add the mushrooms (if they're quite large, tear them while dry or chop them down to a more manageable size afterwards), soak for an hour (use a steamer basket for easy removal).

After, strain out the mushrooms, set aside and add the beef stock to the now-mushroom-flavored water.

Bring stock back to a low boil. Meanwhile, in a large separate sauté pan, heat 2 tbsp butter and 2 tbsp EVOO over medium heat, then add garlic. Sautée for about a minute, then add chopped sausages and mushrooms.

Stir continuously until sausages are browned. Add the rice and stir continuously to evenly toast it in the sausage fat. Add thyme.

When rice is transparent, turn heat to low and add about 1.5 cups of the hot stock (this maintains the rice temperature) and stir. Keep uncovered and allow to constantly simmer.

Slowly add more stock as the rice absorbs the liquid (the stock should come up to just below the top layer of rice). Stir occasionally to keep the rice from sticking to the bottom.

Begin to taste the rice as you notice it getting soft (25-30 minutes), when it's just about al dente, stop adding liquid and let most of the remaining stock simmer away, stirring occasionally. You want a creamy textured end product, while remembering that the rice will continue to absorb liquid until it is either over-cooked or until you've found the perfect liquid ratio.

When you hit the magic moment, turn off heat and add 2 tbsp butter and grated parmigiano-reggiano, stir to melt. Cover for one minute, then serve!

Don't know what to serve as a side for your protein and carb rich main course? How about some cured beef bresaola?
Who needs vegetables? (that is a question I ask while shedding at least one tear)

What I like about this recipe is it's simplicity. There are only five main ingredients and the process is incredibly easy; you don't even have to stir constantly. I'm not usually a rice person, but this is something I could eat weekly. By weekly I mean daily.

Thanks Paolo!

And stay updated with posts in your inbox by clicking here :)

Day Trips to Bormio...and Italian Line Dancing?

2013-09-10T11:58:00.000+02:00

We managed to pull ourselves away from the food haven that is Paolo and Marisa's and hitched a ride with Paolo to explore the nearby Alpine town of Bormio.

Bormio: quaint as can be

Historically, Bormio was a main stop along the trading route between Venice and Switzerland. It has kept the flavor of a lively trading town, and it's easy to imagine those medieval days as you walk upon the cobblestone streets and through the bustling main square, Piazza del Kuerc.

Mountain-nestled Bormio is an entry point to Stelvio National Park, the largest national park in Italy. While the town is renowned for skiing, mountain biking, and abundant hot springs (starting at €13 per person), we skipped this pricier option (for limited time/obvious reasons we skipped the skiing and biking) and set out to do the thing we do best: walk around and eat things.

What would Italy do without me eating all of the gelato? Be sure to stop by Chocobormio (35 Via Roma) for it's handmade chocolates and gelatos.

Bormio's main square, Piazza del Kuerc ,has a few restaurants and the Torre delle Ore, or clock tower, which dates back to 1498 and was used to warn citizens of danger or invasions

First order of business: lunch. Word on the street was that the Valtellina region in which we found ourselves specializes in a cheese dish called Sciatt (say it and giggle: she-aht), wherein cheese (typically Bitto, which is like Gruyere's older and cockier Italian brother) is doused is a fritter-like mixture of buckwheat flour and a touch of grappa (need I mention that all three ingredients should be local?) and lard-fried into bite-sized, irregularly-shaped rounds.

Fittingly, "sciatt" means "toad" in the regional dialect and is thus named for its peculiar and sometimes lumpy appearance. Due to the buckwheat, the dish is gluten free (excitement!)...but it sure ain't healthy.

Hard to go wrong with thinly sliced tender cured beef. Eat it alongside Sciatt (in the background) and you're in business.

Inside Vecchio Borgo with old frescoed ceilings and a downstairs bar area for a more relaxed option

Vecchio Borgo ended up being our restaurant of choice as it was reported to serve authentic regional specialties. Our first sciatt experience was divine, although I would have liked more melting cheese overflow from the fritter (I am from the south, after all).

Our bresaola with fresh lemon juice was a classic winner, and John's buckwheat and nettle gnocchi was a toothsome rich green masterpiece. We left full and happy, although the atmosphere probably would have been a bit stuffy for us had we been eating dinner there.

A man pondering life/thinking about sciatt by the square

The primary school. I could deal with that.

The Romanesque church of San Vitale, possibly dating all the way back to 1196

The medieval frescoes that remain on the church's facade date back to the 14th century

After the meal, time was short, so we stayed town-bound despite the beckoning mountains. We oogled shops with jars full of porcini mushrooms and salumieris with cheeses I'd never heard of and cured meats of which I'd only dreamed.

Bormio is filled with cute and kitschy specialty food stores, but don't miss Il Salumaio.

Something—was it fate?—pulled us into Il Salumaio where the nicest donna in Northern Italy gave us fat samples of cheese and slices of a cured pork called culatello that were so thin I'm surprised they didn't float off of her hand.

Pure slicer magic. Italians always have at least one package of freshly sliced cured meat in the fridge, a habit that we should all adopt with the utmost urgency (but find your local choices for American cured meats!).

Culatello comes from the large muscle mass on the back of a pig's leg, and in producing it one loses the opportunity to make a typical prosciutto. Many call culatello the true King of cured meats, and it is certainly one of the priciest.

The bormiolina morbida (translation: "tender little Bormio cheese) we chose to accompany it was creamy and pungent, and oh how I mourned that after leaving Northeast Italy, we would probably never find this tiny artisanal delight again.

One of the fancy ancient buildings of Bormio

Farewell, Bormio! Would that I could have hiked your imposing mountains!

Paolo scooped us up after delivering a puppy on the Swiss border (you didn't realize how exciting the life of a dog breeder could be, did you?), but the day's adventures weren't over. For that very night, in the tiny town of Teglio which is only reachable by a steep and winding mountain road, a "Country West Brew Fest" was taking place. And lo, it happened to be a mere five minute drive from Paolo's house.

In the parallel universe of Italian line dancing, tight and fashionable jeans are a must-have

Yes boys and girls, that is a Confederate flag you see. Italy is packing surprises, y'all.

American old-school country music. Line dancing. Artisanal Beer.

'Nuf said.

The Italian country version of CCR's Bad Moon rising. Is it so wrong to point out the hilariousness of our lead singer's completely self-invented and often gibberish lyrics?

The lyrics may have been wrong, but it sure felt right to me.

For more information on visiting Bormio, check out these websites:
Thermal Baths
Snow Skiing
Stelvio National Park
General City Info
Mountain Biking Info
Bike Rental

...Chow!

Northern Italian Chestnut Buckwheat Bread

2013-09-04T09:38:00.000+02:00

Understatement of the month: I have been eating well at my current work-exchange site.

There is one area, however, in which I've felt a bit left out. Bread. What is an Italian meal without a crusty piece of artisanal bread to soak up the leftovers?

Can you guess what those turning wheels lead me to do?

But alas, I've been avoiding gluten for the past few months with great personal results.

Allow me to make one thing clear: Pasta (which has gluten) is and has always been my favorite food.

I am in Italy, the land of pasta, and my gluten sensitivity can go to Hell in the meantime.

Oddly enough, this hasn't taken the same toll on me that a bread or beer typically does, so whether the gluten makeup is different in Italy or whether I'm actually just sensitive to yeast or something, I don't know.

The moral is that I've been eating pasta and avoiding all other gluten, and at the end of the day, it's working.

Fusille lunghi con le cozze, or pasta with mussels and a light tomato sauce. Serve with local Prosecco and you're in business. I don't know what type of business, but it will certainly feel good.

But I miss bread, truly. And after a solid rummage through my host Paolo's pantry, the wheels began turning as I held a bag of chestnut flour and buckwheat flour in each hand.

Most of us have only met buckwheat in the form of expensive Asian soba noodles, so you can imagine my nerdish foodie excitement when I found that northern Italy is an avid producer of buckwheat.

But in the typical manner of Italians, they know how to keep the best things to themselves, which is may be why we seldom find it in the States. However, finding myself smack in the middle of the Italian holy land of buckwheat means that it isn't so difficult for me to track down the local stuff.

Despite the name, buckwheat has no wheat at all and is not even related to the stuff. It's actually the seed from from a plant related to rhubarb and sorrel. It's a nutritional powerhouse with an assertive flavor of campfires and brown rice.

A local field of backyard buckwheat outside our town of Teglio

To place all the praise upon glorious buckwheat would, however, be a mistake.

The humble chestnut should be equally exalted. This unique nut has a sweet and smooth flavor with a lower fat content than it's brethren, making it a beautiful cooking option that is often cost-restrictive in the States.

Chestnut products, thankfully, are abundant and cheap in Italy, and there is no doubt that I intend to make use of this fact.

Crusty, dark, and rustic

A gluten free bread for the doubters

And thus was born my gluten-free buckwheat chestnut bread.

Don't go letting its lack of gluten turn you off—this bread is nutty and mildly sweet and should be baked and enjoyed no matter what sort of flour you enjoy.

Just don't expect it to taste like regular bread; regular bread is a supporting actor, this guy is a leading role.

Rustic Buckwheat Chestnut Bread
Ingredients
2 1/2cups (300 grams) bbuckwheat flour
1 1/2 cups (200 grams) chestnut flour
2 eggs
1/4 cup EVOO
1 tbsp baking powder
1 cup milk/soymilk
1/4 tsp salt

Directions
Preheat oven to 160°C/320°F (chestnut flour burns more easily than regular, so we want a lower heat and a bit more supervision while cooking).

Sift together flours, baking powder, and salt

Beat eggs and milk, slowly pouring in EVOO, for about a minute.

Using your hand or wooden spoon, make a well in the dry ingredients and fold the wet into dry. Knead the dough for about 2-3 minutes, until completely combined, and place into bread pan or form desired shape for a more rustic look. It will be denser and less sticky than regular flour.

Bake for about 55-65 minutes, until beginning to brown at the top.

Rustic bread, rustic mountains, rustic village. Who needs gluten?

Remove from oven and allow to cool before slicing to prevent a more crumbly texture.

It produces a more dense and flavorful loaf than typical white flour, but all this nutrition and flavor is exactly what you need to get you going. The bite is a bit more sweet and toothsome than what you might be used to, so try with stronger flavors like aged with cheese, smoked trout, eggs and bacon, or anything else you envision pairing well with nuttier flavors.

And the best part is that the Italians wouldn't even bat an eyelash at my secretly healthy and gluten-free bread. Like all things good, it fits right in with the food paradise that is Italia.

Stay tuned as we explore the local Valtellina region in pursuit of more good views and foods!

Just a casual morning peach and raisin clafoutis baked up by Paolo

Vineyard Life with Rustic Italian Grub and the Holy Nebbiolo Grape

2013-08-28T13:48:00.003+02:00

Paulo and Marisa, our current HelpX hosts, work regular 9-5 jobs (except it often ends up being more like 8-6). But they have hobbies, too. We all have hobbies, right? Baseball, origami, scrapbooking, knitting...

It's just that I get this feeling that their hobbies are a bit different.

All in a day's work

For one, they raise and breed Bernese Mountain Dogs (the current count at home is twelve). Maybe you've never had a dog, in which case I'll tell you that twelve dogs at home (or, if you want to be specific, four Labrador-sized puppies and eight full grown beasts) is like having at least fifteen human toddlers running around at your feet.

Except that they have four legs, tiny teeth, and are fantastically strong.

Marisa taking some of the crew for a dip in the river

John's nightly dog and puppy attack

But wait—there's more! Hobby number two is running a backyard vineyard that, in conjunction with a friend's vineyard, produces about 7,000 bottles of wine per year under the brand Le Strie, or "The Witches," named so regarding the witch hunts that went on in the Lombardy region in the Middle Ages. The wine comes from the Nebbiolo grape, which we typically consume in the States as Barolo wine (poor me!).

It's aperitivo hour with Paolo's 2008 SassiFraga Terrazze Retiche di Sondrio and local salami

At any rate, these things are not what I call "hobbies," they are what I call "jobs."

The cellar in nearby Sondrio for Paolo's wines

One of the prized three varieties

While most of these casks fit through the cellar doors, some had to be built in situ. Oh, hobbies.

And then there was that time we tasted Barolo wine straight from the cask....

The Le Strie tasting room around the corner from the cellars is an old stone-walled jail, or carceri.

I, on the other hand, haven't had a paying job in about 16 months and yet sometimes—sometimes—I actually feel like there's a lot on my plate.

Should I feel ashamed? Probably.

Speaking of plates, I guess Paolo does make the time for yet another hobby: cooking.

Steak with a porcini mushroom cream sauce and roasted potatoes with sage

Local peaches in a bath of honey and sweet white wine, the very Verduzzo Friulano that accompanied it.

It seems that we just so happen to be volunteering with the Italian food poster boy. And once you resign yourself to the steady diet of black dog hairs that season each dish, you're in the clear.

So if I can be literal for a moment, there really has been is a lot on my plate, and it's Paolo's fault.

Wild Paolo slicing speck with his handy commercial-strength meat slicer

Stuffed bell peppers with pork, bread crumbs, parsley, and parmigiano-reggiano

And on top of everything, the man fishes. These are locally caught river trout covered in herbs and thrown on the grill. I suppose we can add a third to Paolo's list of hobbies.

Paolo knows wine, so at every meal we have an appropriate pairing. This wine from the Refosco dal Peduncolo Rosso grape accompanied our turkey cutlet Marsala

Maybe I don't have to feel so bad about that after all.

Stay tuned for some of Paolo's secret recipes!

Alpine Arrivals, Cured Beef, and Vineyard Volunteering

2013-08-22T14:41:00.001+02:00

The truth is that it feels silly to try to explain any of this with words.

Could there be any other idea of perfection than homemade hobo backgammon in the Italian Alps?

The feelings stretch deeply to that pure and shiny spot inside of each of us that can only be described with the sound of belly-deep laughter or the sight of a dog sunning itself on a porch.

Allow me to introduce you to lardo. This is straight-up pork fat, rubbed with local herbs and spices and cured in a salt brine. You should eat some fat every day, so why not keep it simple rather than hide fat in greasy potato chips or a slice of cake? Throw it on a warm piece of bread and watch the fat soften into sweet sweet salvation.

Italian food just gets me. It makes me weak, speechless, giddy. It is food based simply on what is local and fresh. From there, you find the highest quality items among your participants, and then you cook with them. Could you ask for more?

Porcini and sausage risotto with a side of bresaola (you can tell a man is choosing the side dishes here) All local, all amazing.

Saltimbocca alla Romana, made with lightly-breaded turkey cutlets (since there's no humanely-raised veal nearby), sage, and speck

I am volunteering as a way to travel. I am avoiding the "real world" and working for various families in exchange not for money, but for simple room and board. At least that's the gist. But what I'm also getting is culture.

High in these alpine towns, the water comes straight from the source, leading to these pure and rustic "fountains" found all over the mountainside. When going for a walk, I just strap a cup to my belt and have mountain juice any time I please.

Take my current situation, for example ...

Genuine Italian meals—cooked with the skill of a chef—twice a day. Carefully chosen wine served at dinner that is not only local, but moreover made from the nebbiolo grapes (i.e. the grapes used for Barolo wine) that literally grow in our backyard. Two generous and amazing hosts to work and eat with. A view of the Alps from my bedroom window. Twelve absurdly silly and friendly Bernese Mountain Dogs to play with at any given moment (and no, "twelve" wasn't a typo).

Kitten bedding and a view of the Alps?? Hello, paradise.

Our first dinner: baked rigatoni bolognese

Paolo and a few of the family members. "Just a few" meaning "not even half." There are times when the house gets a little crowded ...

The original caprese salad (guess whose flag's these colors replicate?)...served with a side of local cheese. Cheese as a side for a cheese-based salad? This is getting serious.

And in exchange? I have to find 25 hours at some point in the week to devote to helping to prune and arrange the vineyard.

The view from our window during our three week stay here

I can do these hours in three days and have the rest of the week off, I can do five hours for five days, etc...The arrangement is my choice.

Jackpot, y'all.

Spare time? Find the local gelato mobile (chasing it uphill under the midday sun optional, but highly rewarding).

Beating the heat by logging some hours in the evening under a rising moon and serene sunset

And so, with Paolo as our local master chef (and Marisa, his wife and official taster), I believe I'll have some recipes to be sharing with you.

While the French take foods and spend hours concocting them into something new and rich and complex, the Italians just take what's good, keep it simple, and eat it.

Bresaola "salad" and a view that'll make you cry.

Case in point: Bresaola. This salt-cured, air-dried beef originated in the very Valltelina Valley that we currently call home. It comes from cattle that graze in the local Alpine meadows and since only the leanest, fat-trimmed cuts of meat are used, it ends up being a relatively "healthy" choice in the realm of charcuterie.

The herbaceous mountain diet combined with the salt, herbs, and seasonings that are massaged onto the rind before aging it for two to four months produce a heartbreakingly flavorful end product. There is no need to incorporate this divine meat into some haughty dish. Slice it thin and eat it as it comes.

Bresaola with Arugula and Parmigiano-Reggiano

Ingredients (per person, multiply as necessary)

5-6 paper-thin slices of high-quality bresaola (you can even make your own...)

A handful of arugula

A few shavings of Parmigiano Reggiano, the real stuff

High quality EVOO

High quality balsamic (not balsamic vinegar—you may have to find pure balsamic at a specialty shop)

Directions

Spread out the slices of bresaola on a plate, sprinkle on a handful of arugula, 7-8 hearty shavings of Parm-Regg, and a quick glug of EVOO and balsamic.

Remember: keep it simple. No one ingredient should overpower the others, no matter how much you love cheese or want to try to be healthy with extra arugula. Savor the balance.

Serving with a Bernese mountain dog glass is completely optional

Not an arugula fan? How about some local cheese and grapes, then?

And just for the record, I'm not the only one who likes a leisurely meal...

One of the puppies has honed the art of eating to a master-class skill

Coming up: fresh trout, local flavor, and way too many desserts. Sign up for Chowgypsy posts in your inbox!

Milan's Best Aperitivos Trail (with map!)

2013-08-19T10:31:00.000+02:00

Aperitivo.

Rough translation: Happy Hour on steroids.

After hearing from more than three people that Milan wasn't worth a visit, I almost didn't take the time to research the city and discover what they must not have: the elusive aperitivo originated in Milan.

This is big, people.

What may have begun as a few chips or mixed nuts accompanying a beverage has blossomed into a divine embarrassment of alcohol and "snacks" that are yours for the gluttonous taking.

Find them (all of them!) from 6-9/10 p.m. all throughout this undervalued city.

One Negroni, one Campari Fizz, and two plates of [relatively] free goodness.

While there is a caveat—drink prices mildly increase—you still get a strong specialty cocktail and a hefty appetizer (or two . . . or twenty) for around €8. Easily the price of a cheap drink in New York.

Before you hit the streets, don't miss The Rules section at the bottom of this post!

We only had one day in Milan (see my guide to free Milan tourism), so we conquered all the must-sees while the sun shined, then went back to the hostel for a power-up (nap). If you want more neighborhood info, check out National Geographic's Walking Milan or Rick Steves Snapshot Milan.

Afterwards, we set out at six o'clock to hit Milan's best bars for the aperitivo.

The Duomo Cathedral of Milan

After much research on the must-not-miss spots, I've compiled a map that I will boldly and aptly dub the Best Spots in Milan for Aperitivo Map, and yes, you should follow it.

Since we had an all-day subway pass (only €4.50!), we hit up the artsy Brera district, then headed down toward the bustling and popular Navigli area.

Prepare yourself.

With only one night, we condensed our explorations to the lettered blue points, but if you have time,
check out the highly-reviewed purple points that we unfortunately missed.

View Milan Aperitivo Tour in a larger map

Always thinking ahead, we [vaguely] countered the effects of the forthcoming eating and drinking by hoofing it to Fioraio Bianchi (pink marker). Exercise, amiright?!

Aptly-named for its switch from flower shop by-day into chic restaurant/bar by-night, the place is cooly panned in reviews for sub-par dinners.

But you go for the aperitivo, not the dinner, dear fool!

This is why you sleep in airports and eat homemade granola when hungry: so you can afford a night of aperitivos.

Do not miss Fioraio Bianchi. The drinks were strong and the food was made with care. My first experience with a negroni (the house special) was literally mouth-numbing, and John was happy as a clam with his campari fizz.

The gourmet grub is set out buffet-style, and oh what a buffet it is! By far it was the classiest food of the night and in the most intimate setting. We had eggplant lasagna, grilled vegetables, squid salad, cerignola olives, sauteed pork, and smoked trout, and more. Whew!

The bartender even gave me a flower (I think he pitied my appalling Italian).

You'll find Ristorante Claudio (green marker) up next on the map, but it's been reported as CLOSED FOREVER and I'm not updating the map, so I'm sorry.

The Naviglio Grande, approaching the Navigli district

John hanging out with my flowers at El Brellin

The metro then carried us and our newly-gained weight to the Navigli district.

Unable to ignore the air's buzzing energy, we realized that this is the area where people flock for the aperitivo.

The area itself is a bit grittier, but in that lovely way so unique to port cities. Come here if you want to mingle, be seen, eat a lot, and probably drink too much.

Before you get too food-full, stop at La Vineria, a no-brainer for wine lovers. It serves regional wine and olive oil out of huge steel vats at "farmhouse prices," making two wonderful products more accessible to the average person and more sustainable for the average earth.

The taste may be a bit farmhouse as well, but sometimes you just gotta get down on the farm. The plates looked simple yet delicious and considering that a bottle of house wine is five euros (during aperitivo), this might just qualify as the place of your dreams.

You read it right: glasses of wine starting at one euro.

The scene at La Vineria (proto credit: Yelp)

Not to be lulled into a wine-eyed haze, we made our way to El Brellin (blue marker). Along the way we'd intended to stop by a recommended spot called Banco, but we skipped it when we saw that the aperitivo food was crudité and bread (come on).

You will find that in a lot of the bars—they're catering to newbs and college student. Move it along, move it along.

Such was not the case, however, at El Brellin.

This traditional Italian restaurant doubles as a hip and economical spot for a relatively classy aperitivo. Plus, it takes advantage of its location on a tiny canal with extensive outdoor seating.

The drinks are divine and while the buffet isn't exactly glamorous, it does offer some nice typical Italian options (let's just pretend we didn't see you, chips and salsa).

The house special is the moscow mule (recipe here) and the word "special" does not even begin to describe it.

Approaching El Brellin just in time for outdoor seating and a spot by their mini canal.

This, my friends, is the Moscow Mule with three absurdly generous slices of fresh ginger.

Crossing the canal, we looped around to a place called Slice. Again with the buffet.

I'd been hoping to find a more personalized experience in at least one of these places, but it seems that most restaurants have hopped on the buffet train. I can't complain, though—it's easy to please a glutton.

**Update** On a revisit to the area, I found Ugo Bar right off Via Corsico. Apart from the cozy, classy, and quirky atmosphere, I had a stellar wine and NON-BUFFET aperitivo option. What's more, it was delicious. My updated advice? Hit Ugo Bar first.**

All this made me miss the time I spent eating in Granada. The buffet at Slice might have been the biggest yet (take that superlative how you want), but the unfriendly service and blaring techno music lead us quickly out of the bar to a boat/bar/restaurant just a short walk upstream called Il Barcone (yellow marker).

Friends, rumor has it that this place has closed, and that's depressing.

Delle Mole's boatsauraunt

Although I hadn't done any research on this place (oh noooo!), it was amazing. Despite being filled with people, our small table overlooking the clear Ticino River water was somehow quietly intimate.

The buffet spread was bountiful with traditional Italian foods both hot and cold, and while my excitement on buffets had been waning since at least an hour before (and oh what an hour of suffering!), we mustered up enough enthusiasm to make it through our plates yet again.

Fresh cheese and celery leaves (hm?), pork sautees, a few thick frittatas, pizzas, lots of fried things, fish sticks (...), and more! Succumb to the buffet.

Purist foodie complaints about buffets aside, we certainly managed to enjoy ourselves, and so will you.

If we're talking value for money, it's definitely all throughout the Milan aperitivo scene, and if you're going out for drinks anyway, why not hit the spots that have egregiously large buffets? There's bound to be something in there that that passionate Italian chef just can't refrain from putting his/her heart into.

At this point, it was a free-for-all (for the record, aperitivo hour was almost over and what would they have done with all that leftover food?! Better feed it to my hyena boyfriend...)

A view of the Navigli Grande by night and its bars jam packed with buffets for aperitivo hour. You will eat a lot, but I can't promise that you'll eat well...

After Il Barcone, we got on our wobbly legs (was it the drinks or the river?) and began the walk home, where—lo and behold—we were intercepted by a gelateria.

Cruel trick of the gods!

Surely it is a rule that every Italian aperitivo trek should end with gelato. I think it's important to follow rules.

Ronomata Gelateria, at the upper point of where all the canals meet, was buzzing and grand with its vintage decorations of cone-lined walls and golden cloches to cover each gelato.

I sampled the dark chocolate (my standard test to decide if the rest is worth it), and decided on a definitive "yes."

I'll note that this was our second gelateria visit of the day. So?

And thus the night ended.

Lured in by the vintage style and obvious popularity of Rinomata Gelateria

When a shop doesn't even need to show you the product, you know it's gonna be good.

I'll mention that loads of other small bars promising drink offers and proudly displaying colossal buffets lined the canal as we headed home from Navagli. I encourage you to cautiously assume that many of these places are full of tourists and unlovingly-made foods.

I did my research, so trust the Chowgypsy. Otherwise, explore, be picky, and eat well.

Some places have taken the aperitivo idea and flourished, others have taken it and completely missed the point. If you're on a study abroad trip, go ahead, eat your heart out for cheap, but if that's not the case, choose carefully.

Finally, a few rules for aperitivo hour:

These aren't Golden Corral buffets. You are being trusted to serve yourself smallish appetizer portions of the food, so don't be a stupid tourist about it. The Italians typically pick up only a few bites worth of food.

Try the restaurant's specialty drink (unless it's a cheap sugar bomb).

If your goal is to see what Milan nightlife has to offer, pace yourself. Keep it to one drink per restaurant and that will also keep you from getting second helpings of food you've already tried.

Don't eat for the sake of eating. Food options are endless, so only select the foods that you really want to try. (Don't be such an American!)

Most places do the aperitivo thing from 6-9pm, although some go later (how long has that food been out, though?). If you're on a mission to eat at Milan's best aperitivo spots in one night, be brave, be hungry, begin early, and pace yourself.

Getting ready to tackle Navigli

Now that our Milan whirlwind is finished, we're heading to a small vineyard in Northeastern Italy to HelpX.

Local wine, Bernese mountain dogs, and Italian Alps to come...stay tuned by signing up to my mailing list!

Not ready to leave the computer? Check out my writer's blog at RoadWritten.com!

Free Tourism in Milan: The One-Day Guide

2013-08-14T17:36:00.003+02:00

The sweet sticky air reminiscent of Georgia summers and somehow scented of chocolate engulfed me as I stepped out of the Milan airport onto the homeland.

Walking down Milan's Navigli canal. Where's my kayak?

Okay okay, genetically speaking, I'm only a quarter Italian, but could there be a culture in which I feel more at home?

Siestas, warm weather, easy living, fiery tempers, and food?

Take everything away but the food and Italy would still be the place that quickens my pulse and calls my blood to attention.

Just a normal girl, getting her second serving of gelato for the day...(this time at Rinomata Gelateria)

Perhaps I've always known that I would belong here.

The Slow Food Movement, a movement whose ideals are one of the driving forces not only behind this trip, but (she said pretentiously) behind my life, was in fact originated in Italy.

These people get it. I don't have to double-check that the garlic I'm buying isn't from China, I don't have to check if a cafe's coffee beans are locally roasted, and I don't have to exhaust myself trying to hunt down seasonal fruit or local yogurt.

We stumbled upon Norin Cafe (which doubles as a Pizzeria) for an espresso with whipped cream and a cafe marocchino

Blindsided by all the chocolately selections at Shockolat, I went for dark chocolate and hazelnut.

In Italy, I'm no longer a "food snob" . . . I'm normal.

(at least when it comes to food)

People watching on the Piazza del Duomo in front of Milan's famous cathedral (the Duomo) and the adjacent Galleria Vittorio Emanuele, a four-storey double arcade that serves as the world's oldest shopping mall

So, after a discontinuous night's sleep in the Milan airport, we set off for the city.

(Note: after our 10pm arrival, John pointed out that 16 euros saved by sleeping in the airport instead of in a hostel was equivalent to at least as many Italian espressos. Airport camping it was.)

Stealing a shot of our campsite in the food court kidzone (if you want to sleep in Milan's airport, shoot for terminal one)

At the far end of Milan's Sempione park, you'll find Arco della Pace, aptly named for its relatively quiet location.

We had one day in Milan before heading off to our new host's house in Teglio, a small northeasten town near Lake Como, and although several friends told me that Milan wasn't worth a visit, I rightly refused to believe them.

Indeed, one day ended up being enough, but only because we planned. I mapped out the best Milan aperitivo spot (the free ones, that is) into a well-ordered walk, we had a quick midday nap, and then went out for the thing that really makes Milan worthwhile, the aperitivo.

Readers, meet the Moscow Mule, accompanied by a smorgasbord of random Italian foods.
More about the glorious aperitivo to come.

If you have the option to spend a day in Milan, do it. It may not rival other cities in terms of architectural beauty, but the subway is cheap (4.50 euros for one day's unlimited rides!) and there is plenty to see and do to make it worthwhile.

Follow my one day of free tourism map to see the sights and have enough money left-over for a few aperitivos once six o'clock rolls around. Consider walking the route because it's only about three miles and shouldn't you work off some calories to make room for more Italian food?

The One Day Free Tour of Milan (with map!)
The colored push pins ("sights") and yellow dots (museums) are free. I'll be explaining the "push pin stops" in this post, so pick and choose your other stops. Purple dots are priced museums, and some have free visiting hours on certain dates, so check the websites. Always double check operating hours and dates (many close in August)!

View Milan Free Tour in a larger map

The first stop on your flash tour is the perfectly-situated Duomo (yellow pin). It's the most popular free tourist attraction in Milan, so the earlier you go the better.

Cover your bare shoulders and thighs and you can take a look inside, and don't forget to snake around the back corner to check out the crypt (or if there's a long line, don't bother). For a small price you can ascend one of the towers for a great view of the city.

The Duomo di Milano from the plaza

Statue of St. Bartolomeo in the Duomo, 1562

After the Duomo, stroll around the square and make fun of people taking glamor shots of themselves, and then head onwards to Sforzesco Castle. It takes up a lot of ground, so pass through the Piazza Sforesco (blue pin) to get your bearings and follow my free route.

The castle iss a stronghold of Milan military defense and history that dates back to 1368. Within the grounds, there are several museums that aren't free (unless you're under 25!), but near enough at three euros (see more pricing info here).

Views of one of the watchtowers from the castle grounds

Milling about the Piazza d'Armi in front of the Torre Filarete

Head straight out of the castle grounds and you'll reach Sempione Park. Take at least half an hour to stroll around and get your nature on, and if you have the time stop by the free Aquarium and Hydrobiological Station to see wet things from the Mediterranean and Red Seas.

Exit the park to the left side of the castle (purple pin), and make your way to to either 1) a gelateria or 2) the plaza of Santa Maria delle Grazie. Choose your own adventure!

Castle Sforzesco grounds from a distance while walking around Parco Sempione. Be sure to take the quick walk to the far end to see the Arco della Pace (Arc of Peace)

For our part, option one it was. We were hopelessly ensnared by the beautiful beckoning display of Shockolat, which—you guessed it—specializes in chocolate-themed gelatos. It even carried what just might be the world's best chocolate producer, Amedei, so somebody there knows what's up.

The gelato was amazing. And since we had stuffed ourselves that morning with some of my homemade amaranth granola (hippies!), it ended up being enough cold cream and sugar to tie us over until aperitivo hour.

You think I can just walk away after seeing this? And it's only half of the display...

Next up we'll head to the Church and Convent of Santa Maria delle Grazie (pink pin), where you can tour the grounds and church for free, but if you're feeling the slightest bit lavish, make a reservation to see Da Vinci's The Last Supper, which is just around the corner. It's only eight euros, and if there is one thing you should spend money on during a free tour of Milan, it's this.

Regrettably, we didn't reserve quickly enough to see the masterpiece.

Just down the street you'll find the Church of San Maurizio (green pin), born as a convent in 1503 within a Benedictine Monastery. Keep your eyes peeled from the street because it's facade is inconspicuously plain, but the inside is like walking into a jewel box. Rich reds, bright golds, lavish frescoes, and prime examples of Baroque and Renaissance architecture run rampant within the building.

No matter how many museums you've been to, Chiesa di San Maurizio al Monesterio Maggiore is simply not to be missed.

Don't miss that little side door on the left—the jaw'dropping continues!

None shall escape the sense of awe

Head: it's what's for dinner

Look familiar? Scenes from the ark by Aurelio Luini, circa 1556.

If you only have one day in Milan (and hey, even if you have two), just follow my map, and factor in the museums that interest you (remember: the yellow dots are free, purple are priced).

If you're interested in paying, Milan Tourism Point has some great deals on city tours and discounts.

For a cheap hostel in Milan, I highly suggest using hostelz.com, where we found (and were mostly happy with) the Euro Inn.

The most important thing about spending one day in Milan is that you must —must—conserve enough energy (and money!) for the aperitivos, which you can find from 6-9/10pm every night. Think tapas, buffet-style. Your wallet and stomach will never be so happy.

More on that delectability in the next post on the best spots for Milan aperitivos.

And later this week? Volunteering on a vineyard in Teglio...sign up for inbox updates!

The Land of Potatoes and the Best Rösti Around

2013-08-10T10:49:00.002+02:00

Whatever you heard about the Irish and potatoes, it's true. Really.

This is not a necessarily relevant point, but it's something that I can't quite get off my mind. You see, I wouldn't have fully believed that the love of the Irish bestowed upon their potatoes extends as far as it does until seeing it with my own eyes, and now that I've seen it, I'm just left wondering...why?

Ok, so maybe I was the one who made this potato salad as we celebrated 4th of July here, but it's a time when potatoes simply must be included. This dish has homemade mayonnaise, malt & red wine vinegar, mint, capers, peas, lemon juice, & EVOO.

I have lived with two chefs now in Ireland, cultured and creative women both (remember the first?). And despite all of their combined kitchen prowess, you can bet that as sure as the sun will rise in the morning, there will almost surely be the bumpy face of a potato at dinner.

The Gallic Kitchen's rosti display flanked by veggie quiche & feta and sun dried tomato pies (the vegetarian aisle).

Don't want so much potato? Opt for less with a duck confit pie topped with grated potato and cheddar...

I'm not going to deny that I have a thing against potatoes. I love french fries, hash browns, potato salad, roasted potatoes...really, I enjoy a lot of dishes involving potatoes. But it's not the potato itself that does it for me. It's the crisp of the fry, the tangy herbs in a potato salad; it's never really the potato. You can argue that the potato is worthy of praise because it is the vessel of so many pleasures...but there are substitutes, you see. There are substitutes that are not only sometimes more pleasurable, but also more nutritious and financially comparable (sweet potato comes to mind. Or turnips, why must the turnip be so ignored?).

Sometimes I'm prone to aligning myself with that camp of people who only likes a transformed potato; as in, mix some potatoes into a pig's food, and savor the transformed results with your plate of breakfast bacon.

I definitely confused the girl at The Blackberry Cafe in Thomasville when I asked for the gluten-free version of an Irish breakfast sandwich, but she ended up performing marvelously—look at all that local cheese! (note to self: cheese is a perfectly suitable substitute for bread. Even for a cheese sandwich). Add local bacon and eggs with homemade relish, and you get Heaven.

What I'm trying to say here is that potatoes are overrated. Namely, potatoes are overrated in Ireland. Even amazing cooks have an inexplicably unbreakable dependence on them, bred into them, I suppose, by the potato trials of the past.

John gettin' down on some Irish tradition as we tend the stall at Dublin's Saturday Temple Bar market

What I'm also trying to say here is that at the end of the day, sometimes an invisible evil potato witch just makes you crave french fries or baked potatoes or whatever other dish you crave that involves starchy bland masses, and sometimes you just gotta give in, no matter how much logic tells you that it's wrong.

So this is where I give in. Every time. It's the crunch, it's the oil. It's the golden exterior preceding the soft, yielding interior.

This is it: I love a good potato pancake.

I am a sucker for crisp—give me a potato cooked as long as possible before burning it (a request that only Waffle House employees truly understand).

And the Gallic Kitchen knows good potato pancakes, but over here, we call them rostis (a name which actually hearkens to its Swiss origins).

Perfectly crunchy, deceptively decadent (spoiler alert: it's the duck fat. But that's optional.), and wearing a royal crown of sweet pepper, arugula, and goat cheese, this rosti is hard to beat and easy to make. Perfect for a potato hater that secretly loves potatoes (sometimes), and even more perfect for a potato lover that always loves potatoes, throw this together whenever you want to make something that literally calls for five ingredients.

Tomato chutney should probably cover the world.

Barely hiding its little arugula suprise

Potato Rostis with Sweet Red Pepper, Arugula, and Fresh Chevre
Ingredients (for one serving, multiply as-needed)
One generous cup of shredded Russet potatoes (use a food processor and apply plenty of pressure on the potato to get a long, thin grate)
One large red bell pepper, cut into 1/2-3/4 inch rings
One 1/2-inch slice from huge roll of fresh Chevre/goat cheese, or several smaller pieces of equivalent measure
One generous handful of coarsely chopped arugula
Cooking oil or duck fat
Salt and pepper to taste

Working in a commercial kitchen, it's easy to get your hand on a chevre log this large, so if you don't want to substitute with pieces of a smaller log, ask your local cheese shop to order a big guy for you, which is enough for 10-12 rostis.

Directions
Preheat oven to 375/200 Fahrenheit/Celsius

Peel and shred potatoes using the grater setting that's a bit larger than the size of the tine of a fork. Place any shredded potato that you're not cooking immediately into water.

Cover a pan liberally with cooking oil (I suggest peanut or some other high-heat-tolerant oil) and throw on a couple globs of duck fat if you just so happen to have it lying around. Form a large handful of grated potatoes into a pile/patty about one inch thick and five inches wide. Flatten the pile across the top and round it down to the base of the pan on the edges. Salt and pepper to taste.

Bake this for about 20-30 minutes, check with a spatula and if the bottom is firm and golden but not quite brown, it is ready to be flipped. Remove from oven and flip, using a sharp-edged spatula in case any of the potato tries to stick to the pan. Add oil to the pan if necessary.

The unflipped on is in the middle, and the other two have the brown level you're looking for post-flip

Pack in as much arugula/rocket as possible as it will shrink loads once it starts cooking

Once the rosti is flipped, place the pepper in the center, pushing it down with a bit of force to stabilize it on it's potato pillow. Stuff as much arugula as you can into the center of the pepper, then top with the goat cheese.

Add more oil if the pan looks dry and bake 7-15 minutes until golden and browning on the edges.

Simple and grand.

So there's my rosti weakness. Serve it with a little tomato chutney (recipe to come) and I'll tell you potatoes are my favorite vegetable (lies!) any time you want.

Irish Summer Thunder and Raspberry Chocolate Cheesecake

2013-08-01T18:49:00.002+02:00

The Irish heat wave has shrugged off the idea of endless summer and has instead replaced the days with majestic clouds and thunderstorms that flirt, but never stay.

Imagine if we could all be this happy, all the time.

This melodramatic weather is an acceptable substitute; we sit up here on our hill, messing around in the kitchen, building walls during the dry times, and playing backgammon as we watch the clouds move out over the Irish countryside.

My bedroom window: the best place to be in Ireland

The pretty day getting sucked into the storm

Every home should have a weather-watching window.

The leprechauns are treating us right.

Our time in little Durrow town is drawing to a close and I can feel the sentimentality creeping up on me a bit more each day. I've fallen in love with two little kids and to be honest, it may be the first time this has happened to me. Maybe it's because they're gingers.

At any rate, leaving will be hard.

(but softened by the fact that we're heading to Italy).

The drizzle avoids our sunset with John, Artie & Max

The water hole with Flo & Artie during our sunny streak

I suppose that in the manner older people often do, I try to influence the kids here and there. They're young, malleable. Take your dog on walks, eat fruit, read Harry Potter, etc. One topic that consistently arises is my goading them into eating less sugar (because as it stands, it's a lot). Despite that, fresh raspberries have gotten the better of me and I've been talked into making a raspberry cheesecake.

Our bounty from Fruitlawn Gardens (see above link)

When in doubt: Hose them.

But don't think that I'm completely caving into producing some sugary, cholesterol-laden spectacle. This is going to be a healthy raspberry cheesecake. Or at least as healthy as can be without sacrificing flavor. And there is going to be chocolate. Obviously.

The fear of my impending visit to a land whose diet is based on wine and pasta is upon me. For one, gluten makes me feel listless and lethargic and bloated in the days after I eat it (hello, pasta land). For two, wine is like adult sugar juice, so on top of gluten-induced lethargy, I am going to be fighting the weight gain that sugary alcohol so eagerly bestows upon our human systems.

Of course, I could refrain from pasta and wine. But it's Italy. You only live once.

Speaking of living only once, how about that time a couple days ago that John surprised me with Bruce Springsteen tickets in nearby Kilkenny for my birthday??

Getting back to my point, I am trying to prepare myself by eating as healthy as possible now (in a place where, ahem, the food and wine isn't quite as renowned...). Which is why even the dessert must have some sort of nutritional benefit.

It worked! My health tactics worked!

stay out of the shadows, my friend

In this recipe, I substitute tons of cream cheese with yogurt and an avocado, I use a small amount of honey, and dark chocolate keeps things more antioxidant rich and doesn't add extra sugar. The almond crust is sugar-and-butter-less, not to mention that it's amazing. At the end of the day, this is one of the healthier desserts you could imagine without actually imagining that it's healthy. Oh, and it's gluten-free. Bam!

Perhaps a bit undercooked, but deliciously creamy as a result. You can see how I threw the berries on the bottom before pouring the cream mixture on top. Super easy, and you can add as many or few berries as you want.

Healthy Raspberry Chocolate Cheesecake
Ingredients
Crust:
200 grams ground almonds (substitute any nut here, I used 150g almonds and 50g flax)
3 tbsp EVOO
1 large egg
1/2 tsp baking soda
pinch salt
Optional: 2 tbsp sugar

Cheesecake:
16oz cream cheese, room temperature
1 cup Greek yogurt
1 ripe avocado
3 eggs
6oz or3/4 cup dark chocolate
1/2 cup local honey
1 tsp vanilla
1 tsp cinnamon
1/2 tsp nutmeg
1 1/2 to 2 cups raspberries

Directions
For crust:
Preheat oven to 350/180 Fahrenheit/Celsius

Combine baking soda, almonds, salt, and sugar (if using). Add egg and oil and hand mix. If mixture is too sticky, place in freezer for 5-10 minutes, then press into bottom of a 9-inch springform baking pan using your fingers and a spatula. It doesn't have to be perfect, but make sure the edges are strong.

Bake 10-15 minutes until golden, especially on the edges.

Ah, the joys of fluorescent lighting. This is the cooked crust with lovely golden edges

Nothing like sunlight hitting a cheese/avocado/yogurt/chocolate/raspberry cake.

Meanwhile, the cheesecake:
Keep oven at 350/180

Melt chocolate over double boiler. Once melted, add honey and stir. Set aside.

In electric mixer turned to high speed, beat avocado until smooth. Add cream cheese and beat until there are no lumps. Add eggs, one at a time, and mix until just incorporated. Reduce speed to medium. Add yogurt until incorporated, then slowly pour in chocolate/honey combination while mixer is running and stop when incorporated.

Spread raspberries over crust (you could also fold them into the cheesecake mixture), then pour cheesecake mixture on top.

In order to cook the cheesecake evenly, we're going to bain-marie that shit. It sounds hard—it's not. Find a large, deep baking dish that you can place the springform pan into. Fill the pan about half-way with hot water, but not so much that it will spill over the edges once you place the cheesecake in it. Wrap the base of the cheesecake pan in aluminum foil to prevent water from seeping in, and place it in the water/large pan, then carefully place everything in the oven. You can also put the cheesecake in the larger pan, place it in the oven, and then fill the large pan with water if you're worried about spilling while moving it.

Bake 55-65 minutes until top is set, but still jiggly. Turn the oven off and leave everything in there for an hour. Remove and cool 3-4 hours before eating.

One of the best things about this recipe is that you basically have to add chocolate to cover the greenish color that the cake would have because of the avocado. Sweet, sweet justice.

Garnish with fresh raspberries, and once the cake is at room temperature you can sprinkle on some cinnamon or powdered sugar.

In other news, now that it's our final week, we're going to soak up this now-wet Irish summer with as much gusto as possible, pay a final visit to our favorite local town, Kilkenny, visit a scarecrow festival, and show Flo and Artie what real pudding is all about. Stay tuned!

The Secret Gardens of Ireland: Welcome to Fruitlawn

2013-07-24T19:24:00.000+02:00

Ireland is supposed to be wet, overcast, and mildly cold in the summer. When making plans for this trip, I had heard that June and July were Ireland's high time for tourists and assumed—yes, assumed!—that obviously, the weather would be grand.

I was not happy to learn, upon arrival here, that it is actually the opposite that generally holds true for the Irish summer.

bad weather whaaaat?

But I was happy to learn, now that summer is in full swing, that this time, things are different. A sun streak has hit Ireland the likes of which haven't been seen in 20 years. And after a meager two weeks of this, some counties are even officially in a drought.

Watchu talkin' bout a drought?

Save the bees!

So with the heat and humidity aaaalmost reminiscent of the Georgia summers of my youth, I found myself in what must be one of Ireland's most beautiful residential gardens last weekend picking a bounty of raspberries, loganberries, and gooseberries to my heart's content.

A whole wall full of loganberries—a tarter cousin of the raspberry

I had been itching furiously for some local produce because Ireland hasn't seemed to have caught on to the fact that local produce tastes better (exception: they do know this about potatoes). So when I saw the beautiful crop of berries simply aching to be picked, I somehow conned the owners of said crop into letting John and I pick the berries for "them" in exchange for a handsome berry payment.

Garden inclusions: humongous cabbage, a few ripe heads of artichoke, a whole row of bountiful asparagus, and more!

The loganberry wall (the raspberries were kept nearby under netting to ward off sweet-beaked birds)

They graciously accepted my offer, and after a dreamy walk among the garden grounds (which are tended to by the husband and wife team/berry masters), we commenced.

The resident artist (Carol Booth) also happens to be the owner of the place along with her husband, Arthur Schackleton, who founded and designed the gardens

Somehow, this generous duo let us off with the lion's share of the berry bounty, and even ended the evening with us over a shared glass of wine (four glasses, not just one).

Final bursts as the end lurks near

I never would have thought that a tiny town in "rainy, dreary Ireland," could have hidden a garden of such beautiful imagination and proportion, but it's here: Fruitlawn Gardens in the quaint town of Abbeyleix.

Take a look...

Gotta love a topiary

Talk about inviting...

Croquet, anyone? Cartwheels, at least? Just kidding. I don't know how to do either. Damnit!

great job, Ireland!

Bart Simpson flowers

Bug's eye view (And if a certain Sukie Amory wants to tell us what type of flowers these are, go right ahead...)

With my glut of berries now in tow, I can tell you one thing for certain...

THERE WILL BE CHEESECAKE.

...Stay tuned!

Gingers Beware: It's Summer in Ireland

2013-07-18T18:59:00.001+02:00

About a year ago, I assumed that coastal Western France in the summer meant endless sunshine and beach time, and so I arranged to volunteer there for two months.

It was Brittany. The Brittany that typically receives the most rainfall of the year in June and July. Yes, that Brittany. It did not take many wet mornings for me to realize how very wrong I'd been.

Flashback to our volunteer days in Brittany and dear Marie-Therese heading off to be a boss

And so it was without very much surprise that I found I hadn't learned any lesson from that experience, because after arriving to Ireland, I was told that during our June and July sojourn here we could expect exactly the same type of weather.

(lesson=learned. Check temperatures and rainfall).

Now that we're well into summer, there is a small part of me (the selfish part) that for the first time in my life is secretly thankful for global warming. Ireland just may be receiving its best summer since 2006, and in fact has received its longest stretch of sunshine in 71 years beginning in June. Oh joy! I have been basking in the potato-scented glory of it all for weeks now.

What better place to bask than this blue-wheeled bench at the Watergarden Gardens in nearby Thomastown?

I've moved on from enjoying this weather coast-side and now am volunteering Durrow, a tiny town centerish Ireland, with a lovely Dublin-born couple and their two children. She's a pastry chef who has been in the business nearly all her life, starting with a shop for 15 years in Dublin, then downsizing to a tiny cafe in the nearby town of Abbeyleix. Her husband generally keeps his distance form the manic schedule of eight-to-ten-hour baking days, and contents himself playing chauffeur to us volunteers getting to-and-from the cafe and to his nine and eleven-year-old son and daughter.

The new digs—a renovated farmhome with a newly-styled wood attachment in the back of the house that links the original right and left buildings and leaves a little inner patio between the two. Our room is top left.

What this all means for me is that the work exchange I find myself in involves helping in the kitchen while learning how to make pastries, pies, tarts, etc. and/or working in their cafe.

The display at a farmer's market in Dublin: sausage rolls, duck confit pies with potatoes and cheddar, and potato rostis with red pepper, arugula, and goat cheese

Chocolate scenes from the Dublin farmer's market. These gluten free brownies have become my specialty and my day's record so far is four batches—made, not eaten.

This is good.

Irish translation: this is GRAND.

Due to our food excitement and a rather strong command of English, John and I also get to run farmer's markets every now and again. Here I'm being helped by Sarah & Patrick's son Artie at Fruitlawn Gardens in Abbeyleix.

John, meanwhile, is happily working away on building yet another stone wall. He is also eating as many pastry-based foods as humanly possible. I mean it.

John's wall, still a couple layers short. "Brute" on the bin—coincidence?

Hard not to drool over all the pies and quiches, but luckily I'm gluten free and typically stop at drool.

We also have the unexpected treat of volunteering with several other travelers, so there's the well-needed opportunity to socialize ourselves for a while (you try traveling for a year with just one other person).

A day trip to the nearby quaint town of Kilkenny with our newest French friend Anne. Uncle Sam's (which we didn't patronize) with it's wonderful America theme, also sold curry, fish & chips, and pizza. What culture!

John, Artie, and Flo enjoying some icy things

Teaching the other volunteers about roasting marshmallows

Despite sharing a space with a family of four, five to seven volunteers, and a dog, the atmosphere somehow always seems quiet and relaxing, so alone time is easy to find for a walk along the hills or a book in bed with the windows thrown open.

Did somebody say relaxation? (he didn't even wake up for the picture)

This is the new addition that links the old (as in centuries) house with what used to be one of it's barns. A+ for high ceilings and the inner patio

A view from the inner patio of the lovely stone work and one of the four apple trees growing there. And check out the vista, we're on an amazing hill.

What else is there time for, you wonder?

Recipes. Looooots of recipes.

Stay tuned!

A sunset from the window of our room. Can we stay?

Stone Walls & Chicken Curry Dip. This is Ireland.

2013-07-10T12:17:00.000+02:00

Our first stop in Ireland has taken us to a small homestay (which we found using helpx)on the Southeastern coast in a little town called Ballydehob.

Oh, just a castle. Just a castle that happens to be a mile down the road and owned by Jeremy Irons. It was built between 1450-1480, fell to ruin in 1603 for 395 years, and then was restored to an as historically accurate state as possible by Mr. Irons himself.

The opportunity to build dry stone walls is what brought us here, and indeed I spent a day's work working on this task. But after taking a nice hard look at the situation, we realized that the style specific to the Southern region of Ireland—that being one which utilizes extra large stones in their walls—perhaps wasn't best suited to my level of strength (and before you say anything smart, it's a very high level of strength) .

Part of the wounded stone wall that we helped to restore.

A peaceful moment before the wild boys find their toy

Now don't misunderstand, I don't run away from heavy lifting all the time. In fact, I tend to like the jobs that I can consider the day's work-out. But regarding the small amount of time we're spending here anyway, I'm going to go ahead and label this "out of my league" and focus on other things.

John's first time on a digger to help move rocks. This is happiness.

So what do I do instead of strength training?

I help Sharon, our hostess (who tends a house of two young boys and her husband), with cleaning their adjacent rental property. I help her find her place in social media. I iron (I'm assuming the skill will come in handy one day). I garden. I enjoy this rare gift of a sunny Irish summer.

Foxglove love as the clouds threaten to move in

The glorious allium. Onions never looked so good.

And I eat.

An essential ingredient in an Irish breakfast: farm fresh eggs. What's not pictured? Bacon, white & black sausage, baked beans, brown bread, and a cholesterol test

It just so happens that the female component of our host duo happens to be a trained chef. And man, can she cook.

Sharon's all-star brown soda bread, which she makes using spelt flour instead of wheat. It's healthier, and you wouldn't even know the difference.

Given that John and I tend to take the reins in the kitchen (either because other hosts don't enjoy cooking or simply aren't very good at it), we have nearly forgotten that typically the idea behind help exchange programs is that the host cooks for the helpers.

It's time to remember.

This is volunteer heaven: Local mussels in a garlicky broth with oven-baked french fries.

There are three foods that you can't go wrong with in Ireland: potatoes, beef, and butter. This is a healthy culture.

One of the most surprisingly amazing meals I've had on this trip: Baked free-range ham with a harissa cream sauce.

The recipe I'm going to share with you isn't rooted in Ireland. But are we really surprised that the best thing I've had here hails from India? I'm a spice person. I want pad thai over alfreddo, chai over coffee, and definitely [insert anything with strong flavors here] over Irish meat and potatoes.

No offense Ireland—meat and potatoes are delicious and hearty and let's be honest, it's one of the things you do best (the Irish are also great fighters, which is why I'm going to sleep with one eye open tonight). But Sharon's curried chicken dip is the food that I'm going to remember first about Ireland, because you don't forget the time you meet a dip like this.

In fact, once you have the recipe, you will remind yourself that this curried chicken chutney dip exists over and over and over again.

Who could imagine that something that looks so simple will completely dominate all who dare taste it?

Welcome to your new addiction. (Courtesy of Sharon & her website!)

Chicken Curry Dip
Ingredients

2 large chicken breasts, poached or baked until just cooked through

6-8 fl oz mayonnaise

3 tbs mango chutney

2 tbs Madras curry powder
3 scallions

3 oz slivered almonds

Salt & Pepper to taste

Food processor, blender, or immersion blender

Directions (from the words of Sharon herself!)

Preheat oven to 180C/350F

"Place all the ingredients EXCEPT the almonds in your available whizzer. Blend until almost smooth. (If you are using a wand chop the chicken and scallions up first) If the mixture seems a little dry add the extra 2 oz of Mayonnaise. You can taste it at this stage to check the seasoning. Put into your oven proof dish [the mixture should be at least an inch or more deep in the dish]. Top with the almonds spread in a single layer and bake at 180 degrees for 10-15 minutes until it starts to bubble a little bit."

Prepare to watch a mesmerizing culinary disappearing act.

I know I've called this a dip and all, but don't you dare be afraid to spread it on your sandwich, too.

While you get your curry on, I'm going to go enjoy an Irish sunset.

Foxglove, I did not give you the love you deserved until you surrounded me in Ireland.

Stay tuned as we head off to the midlands to work in a bakery and cafe!

Welsh Bosom Buddies meets Raw & Healthy Chocolate Truffles

2013-07-04T16:46:00.002+02:00

Enough about all that wall-building stuff, more importantly (drumroll please): I have a new friend—and I don't mean the cat.
(But let's be honest, he's a new friend too, and yes, the majority of my "new friends" do end up being cats).

Readers, meet Teabag.

Playing the guessing game

It's been a long time traveling, and spending nearly every waking moment with one's boyfriend is nice and all (if you're lucky), but you can't put a price tag on female companionship. Just because I've looked like a little boy for over a year now (short hair much?), it doesn't mean that I, too, don't need a bosom buddy sometimes.

And so here's my tribute to the amazing Lisa, whom I suspect I'll be seeing on and off for the rest of my life (sounds like John has some competition, ehhhh?). Enthusiastic and forever young-at-heart, Lisa just gets it. She knows when to look out at a piece of sunshine and ride it all the way to a spontaneous hike around the coast, whether or not there's work to be done. She takes an interest in the people around her and is one among the few people we've met on this trip who still has an open mind about learning from and about everybody she meets.

A spur-of-the-moment drive to the Gors Fawr stone circle, which sits at the base of the Preseli Mountains, known as the birthplace of the Stonehenge bluestones. The landscape immediately puts you on the lookout for marsh nymphs and green-tinged fairies. Look just past the dead tree and you can make out part of the large circle (66 feet in diameter) of shortish stones.

Another last-minute Lisa idea: driving to an old hilltop to spy on dolphins and a stellar sunset.

In rainy Wales, you never let sunshine go to waste, an idea Lisa holds onto no matter what's on the to-do list

As a further tribute, I propose a recipe that relies heavily on dried fruit. This may or may not have something to do with the thousands of bags of dried fruit that Lisa has strewn about her pantry shelves (raisins!! So many raisins!). Lisa is the type who's always on the lookout for creative recipes, and healthy things that she can trick her 13-year-old son into eating are an obvious bonus. This faux chocolate truffle recipe is the perfect thing to cook up (even though there's no actual cooking involved) when you want an amazing dessert without the guilt.

Looks decadent, but it's an iluuuusionnnn.

I like my sweets, but I'm not such a big fan of diabetes and/or tooth decay. So erring on the side of minimal self-damage, I go for "healthy" sweet things, which is often achieved by substituting raw sugar with the more-natural sugars of fruit. It's still sugar, but it's the lesser of two evils by a landslide. This is where all that dried fruit hiding out in your pantry comes in.

In this case I've used prunes and dates, but you can try this out with a mixture of anything: raisins, currants, apricots, you name it. I would suggest getting dates in there if you can, because they just blow other dried fruits out of the orchard when it comes to their chocolatey sweetness.

How can something that looks so wrong be so, so right?

Sunlight hitting a globe of chocolate, this is art at its finest.

Raw Chocolate Truffles
Ingredients

1 cup pitted dates

3/4 cup pitted prunes

1/4 cup + 2 tbs nut butter

1/2 cup cocoa powder

1/2 cup desiccated natural coconut (can substitute ground nuts)

3-4 tbs maple syrup or honey

2 tsp cinnamon

1 tsp coffee extract or 2 tsp espresso powder

Topping

1-2 cups cocoa powder, ground nuts or dried coconut, icing sugar (I use a mixture of cocoa, a pinch of cinnamon, and icing sugar)

Directions

Blend dates and prunes in a food processor until smooth (if you have a weak machine, soak them in warm water for 30 minutes beforehand). Add the rest of the ingredients and blend until a paste is formed. Mixture will be sticky, so you can refrigerate for about 45 minutes for easier handling.

Put your "topping" (which will serve the role of sealing in moisture) into a bowl. Set up a pan that will fit in the fride with wax or parchment paper. Roll the truffle paste into ping pong ball-ish sizes, give 'em a roll in the topping, and set on your prepared pan. Once you've filled up the pan, throw it in the fridge to let the little guys firm up.

After an hour or two, they're ready to be thrown in some tupperware and stored. They'll keep for one to two weeks and can be frozen, so keep them around and eat when you need a nutritional boost or a fast but impressive meal-finisher!

Homemaker wife idea: Put them in an old-fashioned jar (put circles of parchment between the layers), tie a string and a note around the top, and give them as a gift. Oh Pinterest, here I come!

All this sentimentality and fruit/chocolate stuff is saying nothing of Lisa's partner Mick, who has patiently and talkatively worked alongside John and me as we bungle our way through our baby steps toward construction know-how.

Chancing upon this duo and their bright son Jake has been the most absurdly perfect fluke of this trip. It took ditching an odd man in a mansion to bring us here, but a disruption in the plan is sometimes the best thing that can happen to a person. I realize bittersweetly how few of the hosts we've had understand help exchanges the way Mick and Lisa do. When matches like these are made, there's a level of symbiosis where volunteers help to accomplish the practical and onerous tasks, but when the work is over, we all find time to have an actual friendship among the returns of room and board.

John and Mick take the blowup canoe out for a ride, and soonafter were startled by a breaching seal who quickly said hello and swam away. There is talk of John and I using this vessel as an inexpensive way to get to Ireland...

Despite wishing that I could stay holed up in this one-room wooden cabin for longer, greeting Mick, Lisa, and Jake in the mornings after rousing ourselves to stroll across the garden to their home, and then pulling myself away from the urge, after every breakfast, to stay inside talking to Lisa all day, it's time for us to move on to Ireland.

Heading to the Fishguard ferry port. This is how you say goodbye, right?

This time around, I'll be leaving with a galvanized sense of the good in people and a bolstered hope for more little treasures to be found in this vagabond lifestyle. Will I find another family like this one, though? Doubtful.

Sunset at our dolphin-spying lookout

Coastal Wales Construction: Building with Hemp and Lime

2013-06-30T20:33:00.000+02:00

Oh, it's hard to play favorites, but my heart tells me that we've finally hit our stride with this whole volunteer thing, and my legs tell me that they are not going to want to be walking away from Mick and Lisa's.

Our new best friends taking us out for a beer. Can't say wrong with that.

Fate lead us to our amazing new hosts, because they just so happened to come upon the scene looking for help with exactly the type of thing John and I were looking to learn about, at exactly the moment things weren't working out with the host at our previous location.

Fate did us right. We are learning things--new things! Not just weeding or maintenance, but building skills that will fit nicely in our construction knowledge arsenal (which at this point is basically empty).

Plastering away in our plaster suits. Lime is pretty damaging to the skin and eyes, so protection is a must.

Before adding the plaster (left), the only insulation is from the stone wall (right)

I've mentioned before that within the past few months, John and I have changed the focus of this trip so that it's not utterly food-centric, but also includes more skill-building opportunities like construction, restoration, and general carpentry. Being self-reliant when it comes to those crafts will save us money in the future, but more than that, it's simply a nice back-to-the-roots feeling to be able to rely on one's own hands to get things done.

Can't be self-sufficient if you don't know how to weed whack

Can't be self-sufficient if you don't know how to knit. Wait...

The name of the game for the next week or so will be building with hemp and limestone. Limestone is a sedimentary rock has been used for thousands of years (for example, the Great Pyramid of Giza is made from it!) as an ideal building matierial because it is sturdy yet microscopically flexible, so instead of walls cracking in the way cement does, limestone slowly adjusts to changing conditions over time. Most of the stonewall structures one sees in Europe is built with some sort of limestone mortar.

The nearby coastal remnants of a church and cemetery near Fishguard, the "church" giving us a prime example of limestone mortar and it's amazing ability to resist the elements

The notion behind using hemp with lime is that hemp serves as a natural and relatively inexpensive filler/expander of a limestone mixture. More specifically, Mick decided to utilize hemp to provide the barn he's renovating (which will be rented out as holiday lets once finished) with insulation and fortification. The strips of hemp (which resemble wood chips) have tiny fibers that "grab" onto the lime mortar and other hemp fibers, fortifying the wall along with fattening it up to provide better insulation.

Team Plaster! Here we are (I am the one in the middle ready for my Russian vacation) putting a second coat of hemp & lime plaster on a wall. You can see the way we simply build the second coat along the first one if you look to the left of Mick. We just slop it on, punch it in, and it stays put (that is, if you have the mixture not too wet or dry).

Just in case you're curious, the process is essentially this: combine a shovelful of sand with a bucketful of pure powdered limestone. Mix in a construction mixer, add a well-measured bucket of water and two buckets of hemp. Quantities change ever-so-slightly based on the wetness of the sand, but adjustments are made as relevant, and once ready, we load the mixture into buckets and quickly slop it onto the walls before it begins to harden.

I know this is all terribly exciting for you to read about, and as far as the actual process goes, yes, it is a bit long. We listen to music and talk about what comes to mind, and it's somehow relaxing in its simplicity.

Betcha didn't know Wales had something like this, did ya? This was a little coastal walk near Dinas Cross.

And afterwards, if the sun is shining, we take some time to remind ourselves that we're living on the coast.

Criss-Crossing Wales: Escaping the Manor House

2013-06-25T18:08:00.002+02:00

After dancing around the issue several times, we finally managed to convince our host at the manor house to let us try a bit of limestone restoration, which had been the whole reason we came to volunteer here...

Taking proper precautions while touching up walls with lime mortar

Awkward John working on lime pointing, which is basically filling in tiny cracks and holes with lime mortar

But we quickly found that our host was not an eager teacher, and had mistakenly expected us to do more menial tasks for a week or two (or more?) before the mere possibility of moving on to more specialized tasks. Facing this, we followed our guts and sent out a search beacon for a more-understanding host.

This trip is too short to spend time with people who aren't willing to understand that John and I are volunteering to learn, and we have already learned the skill of weeding for days on end.

While working on this wall, John uncovered an old flue that we assumed to be a small wood-burning area

Being creepy in our room

But before we officially move on, I'll mention that the best part of our little foray at the manor house was that my dad had come to visit and was with us during our first couple of days there.

I think that despite the blog, many of our friends and family members still don't quite understand this whole "work-for-free" thing that we've been doing for the past year, so it was fun to give my dad a taste of it all, even though it ended up being less working and more eating and sight-seeing.

We're so stately!

From one of the inner terraces at Castell Coch

During his visit, the main work we did was to clear out a storage room filled with wood in Cwmdu (fun!). After that, we headed south to Castell Coch, a fairy-tale castle reconstructed in the 1800s, and spent the rest of the day exploring Cardiff. After that, we made our way to the manor house and dad was able to spend a couple leisurely nights there, an experience that you just can't get staying in hotels.

The Castle was restored in the late 1800s with a nod to Victorian "fantasy" by architect William Burges. You can see that fantastical tone here with the animal motif on the ceiling reminiscent of Aesop's fables.

The banquet hall, done in "Gothic Revival" style

Decorations in the drawing room....and one angry baby.

And so with mildly conflicted (but mostly eager) hearts, we fled the manor house after about five days and headed off to greener pastures.

Farewell, 30-roomed home. Too bad things didn't work out better...

Next up, our new hosts (and saviors) by the coast in Southwest Wales!

A Discrepancy at The Welsh Manor House

2013-06-16T13:51:00.000+02:00

The manor house.

Oh dear.

In our new volunteer location lives our host, John, and myself. That's it. Built as a "calendar house," it was originally constructed with 365 windows, 52 doors, 12 chimneys, 4 wings, and so on. Braggart's rights, I suppose...

Somehow, despite conversations wherein I received assurance that there would be plenty of woodworking, construction, restoration, etc. to work on at this 30-room behemoth, we find that our dear host actually hopes to keep us in the bramble patches. Disassembling them.

And when I say bramble patch, I don't mean a few ornery blackberry bushes. I mean the type of thing you'd expect a witch or at least an evil wolf to live in. They are patches the size of a mobile home, and they are filled with bad things aiming to poke, scratch, and pierce us.

A patch that's very similar—though smaller—than what we were intended to tackle in our host's backyard photocred: Gardening at the Edge

Did I mention that blackthorn, apart from having huge spines, is poisonous? On a nicer note, it produces the sloe, a berry most often used for sloe gin. photcred: About.com

Why was this bramble-clearing workload not included in either the list of things-to-do as reviewed over telephone conversations or in our host's HelpX profile?

Why, when we told him that our intention as volunteers at his home would be to build our skill set regarding construction and craftsmanship, did he not mention among everything else that he planned for weeding to take up the majority of our time here?

Ah, the joyful surprises of being a volunteer.

The dining hall, while beautiful, is purely ornamental, as our host prefers to take meals in front of the television.

But hey, what's this about a 30-room house, you ask? Well, it's the house John and I are living in. It's the house that I'm maaaaybe pretending to be British royalty in...but only sometimes.

One of the guest bedrooms, and you might notice that our host used to have peacocks roaming the grounds

British men like their baths. There's not a functioning shower in the house, which is cute in a water-wasting way

To say the least, this experience (misunderstandings aside) is cool. It's cool figuratively and cool very, very literally. Like I-am-literally-under-three-duvets-right-now cool.

Nobody said it would be easy to heat a 30-room home with only three people living in it.

An old wall, probably belonging to a building where in the old days either meat was cured and stored or dry foods were kept

The beautiful backyard and magically-pruned fruit trees had space for bee hive boxes built into the surrounding walls. The overall space was originally more of a kitchen garden.

Dating back to the 1500s (reminder, this was as our history as North American ~~invaders~~ settlers had only just begun), the home served initially as the town sheriff's and housed over 30 people, including family, servants, and farm hands.

It is the closest I will come to Downton Abbey and I am relishing the fantasy (go ahead, I deserve to be made fun of).

"Maidgirl, come stoke the fire and fluff my pillows, won't you?"
(This is the room that we stayed in, which was in our own wing of the house)

But as you might notice, I am not quite relishing the rest of the situation. Despite our host being an easy-going Welsh gentleman with a love for candy that rivals even the fattest American diabetic child, this lack of promised "skill-building" work upsets me, and we might be on our way sooner than planned.

When in doubt, wear five layers and go for a walk with the sheep

I'll update you soon.

(receive updates in your inbox, if you like!)

Bell Ringing and Castle Treks in Wild Wales

2013-06-11T15:13:00.001+02:00

It's not all chutney making and mustachio'd horses here at Llwynaumawr (don't ask me how to pronounce it), our first volunteering farm in Wales.

Mustache. Didn't I tell you?

This lady so does not have time for me.

Hangin' out atop the hills around our hosts' house

There is also the song of bells in the air. I don't mean the simple sound of bells chiming the hour. I mean the actual song of bells, an art that most people know very little of these days. But there are a few people trying to keep it alive—a difficult thing, considering most people have to start training in their teenage years in order to become any good at some point within the decade.

Know what I'm sayin? This bell is almost at the point of a full turn, and the ropes hanging below must be pulled just right to get the bell to chime at the right moment. Momentum isn't an easy medium to make music with.

Guys, I hate to tell you, but bell ringing as a musical form is endangered—quite nearly extinct. That we had the chance to experience it at a chapel whose bells were about 1,000 pounds and at least 500 years old is amazing; that we had the chance to actually operate the bells ourselves is nearly unbelievable.

So working for free in isolated towns in tiny countries has it's payoffs, am I right? (that is, if you consider ringing old bells a pay off...which I do.)

Our new friend shows us the ROPES! PUN!

Apparently, if you don't let go of the rope in time it will carry you up to the ceiling and "turn you into spaghetti"

Our current host happens to have the hook-up when it comes to the bell scene in Wales, and we were lucky to be taken to a Tuesday night rehersal at the local Cwmdu Church of The Archangel Michael, where one of the ringers took us to the belltower and explained how the bells worked.

The quaint interior of Cwmdu's local chapel

According to the Central Council of Church Bell Ringers (where can I sign up!?), "Bell ringing is a team activity that stimulates the brain and helps keep you fit ... Many consider ringing to be their contribution to church life, others do it for the pure pleasure and the company it brings."

Fitness? Brain Stimulation! Pure Pleasure!? What are you waiting for? What have we all been waiting for? Let's go out and find some bells!

Up in the belltower Master Bellman explains to us the way the bell swings using an axle and pulley rotation method (see some on the video below). You can see that the bats are also interested in the bell tower.

At any rate, here's a blip of very rural Welsh life for you, a bit of bell-ringing from a man who has been doing it for decades, and a video of five pros at an intimate performance of the bell method "Reverse Canterbury Pleasure Place".

In other news, there are even more fun things to do in Wales!

Jumping in old castle courtyards, everybody's idea of good fun.

Recently I embarked with John, a fellow volunteer, and our hosts' daughter to accomplish the three-castle walk to the nearby Skenfirth, Grosmont, and White Castle.

Skenfirth Castle, just doing its best.

We managed the first two castles only (because sometimes footpaths can get crazy and/or we are out of shape), but an amazing picnic and game of hide and seek amongst the ruins of Grosmont Castle made up for any missed castleage.

Hide and seek: guess how many people ended up hiding in the tower? The tower, by the way, is called a "keep tower" and served as the castle's main stronghold and residence (most of their budget went into the walls, apparently)

And if the historic bells and lush countryside of Wales isn't enough, you can always bring it back home with a few s'mores around a bonfire.

John sits with fellow volutneer Chel, Imgoen (the hosts' daughter), and our hosts as we discuss why the marshmallows in Wales do not light on fire.

Next up: A 30-room manor house in South Wales. This is the closest to Downton Abbey I'll ever get—stay tuned!

"British" Spiced Plum Chutney in a Little Place Called Wales

2013-06-06T00:08:00.000+02:00

Somehow we pulled ourselves away from our work at the Pub and made our way up to London to visit some friends and get a glimpse of the marathon.

Being ultimate tourists on Tower Bridge

There was a donkey running the race!

Once London consumed all of our money, we said "cheerio" to Merry Olde England and journeyed forth to Wales. You know that place you may have heard of in reference to the Prince of Wales or when people talk about the country with the name of an ocean mammal? Well, turns out it's basically England's left hip. It's a small hip—not very womanly—but it is luscious none the less.

A short hike up a hill near our new hosts' house overlooking the hills near Brecon Beacons National Park

We found ourselves nestled under the black "mountains" (the Welsh haven't quite figured out what mountains are) just outside the Brecon Beacons National Park at the home of Roger and Beatrice, with whom we'll be working/volunteering to restore their 16th century home and barn.

John displays a neatly labeled jar of my plum chutney between the fine company of our hosts Beatrice and Roger (interesting note: Roger built the kitchen in which they're sitting; you can see the beginning of the section he added onto the original building in a vertical line going down the stones just behind the left side of Beatice's head. ).

Roger has a world of handyman knowledge in that brain of his, so we're happy to have made our goal during this period of volunteering move from farming and gardening more toward work related to building and self-sufficiency, as we figure that hands-on building skills might come very much in handy when we decide to do whatever it is that we decide to do (and if anyone has been informed on what this will be, please let me know—please?!)

Behind you can see the barn that Roger has completely reconstructed and the prep for concreting its floor

Serious rhubarbage meets serious worksuit. Who needs a suit and tie when you have an oversized blue one-piece?

But apart from building wood storage racks, painting chicken houses, and concreting floors, the less-rugged, more delicate woman in me ("haha," we all laugh in unison) has also found a place here. You see, in a similar way that many British will claim "curry" as their "national dish" with a tone and attitude suggesting that their statement actually somehow makes sense, they have similarly embraced the chutney.

Raisins and onions in jam? Oh my, oh yes...!

Why Americans have not similarly embraced the vast world of chutney I'm not sure, because this elusive condiment is a great way to spice up your cheeseboard, your sandwich, your pork tenderloin, and even your life (!!). Especially nice is the fact that there is much less sugar in it than in typically oversweetened things like jam or what ever high-fructose-gelatinous-thing it is that you spread on your food.

And below this beautiful pot of chutney you will find the most burnt pan bottom in your life. And it will make you sore and mornful in your attempts to remove it.

So lucky me, because this family has a small plum and apple orchard, and when you get so overwhelmed with a glut of plums and apples, freeze them and make some damn good chutney whenever you damn please.

British Spiced Plum Chutney ("British" meaning "probably India-Inspired")
Ingredients
1 lb sugar
2 lbs/32 oz malt vinegar or pickling vinegar, 1 cup set aside
1 lb apples, peeled, cored, and chopped
3 lbs plums, stoned and quartered* (don't forget to buy organic stone fruit!)
1 lb onions, peeled and quartered
1/2 lb raisins
1/2 lb carrots, cut into 1/2-inch pieces
2 oz salt
2 tsp cloves
2 tsp cinnamon
2 tsp ground ginger
2 tsp allspice
Tools: food processor (optional), sterilized jars
*Save half of the plum stones and remove the kernels to add to the food processor with the carrots. They'll add nutrition (but be careful, because too many can be toxic), flavor, and pectin. Triple threat!

Getting my mise en place on with frozen plums and apples and the rest of the gang. Dealing with frozen plums can be annoying, and I found removing the stone when the fruit was still half-frozen to be easiest.

I soaked the stones in water and then essentially bashed them with a blunt object to remove the kernel, which adds flavor to james and chutneys, but too many and you're poisoned. Just sayin'.

Directions
In a large pot, heat sugar and vinegar (minus one cup) over medium-high heat and stir until sugar is dissolved. Turn heat to low.

Pulse carrots in food processor 3-4 times, add raisins, pulse another 3-4 times, then add to sugar/vinegar mixture along with the plums.

Pulse onion in food processor until chopped (or chop by hand if you're feeling industrious). I also threw my frozen apple slices in with fine results. Add to the pot.

Don't forget to wear protective eyewear when chopping onions, especially if you're a fragile ginger like myself.

It almost looks like an appetizer platter.
You guys are just so beautiful.

Combine salt and spices in reserved cup of vinegar, then add to everything else. Bring the mixture to a boil, then reduce heat to a simmer, stirring the mixture occasionally so that it doesn't catch on the bottom of the pan (clean-up will be hell if it does—I should know). Don't worry about chunky plum pieces, because they will break down during this process.

Let it reduce for 30-60 minutes, or until desired thickness is reached. It's hard to go wrong here, but a nice rule is that if you take a bit of chutney on a large wooden spoon and run your finger down the center and the line isn't filled up with runny chutney, it's probably thick enough.

Jar using your method of choice, but ideally place a disc of wax paper atop the hot chutney once it's been doled out to the jars. Seal with an airtight lid, making sure that's it's non-metal on the interior, as this will react negatively with the vinegar. No need to boil these jars, although it never hurts.

Plopping my chutney and trying (yet failing) not to make a mess (not pictured)

Roger took it upon himself to pop out some labels for my jars. Isn't that the cutest?

Technically you're supposed to let this stuff "age" for three months or up to a year, but I gobble it down straight out of the pot and set aside a big tub in the refrigerator to eat throughout the week. If jarred, keep in a cool dark place, and eat within about a year, but I'll tell you that we've had chutney using this recipe that's lasted two years, so the risk is all yours.

Once you make your quintessentially British chutney, you can follow it with a nice British curry and something else completely British.

And then go outside and see the sunset.

Maybe this picture didn't follow with the general theme of where I was going with the post, but man Wales is pretty.

And stay tuned, bell ringing is coming up next!

(What does that even mean!?)

The Coast and the Grampus

2013-05-26T20:52:00.000+02:00

It's Photo Friday. It's not Friday? Whatever. The thing is that we are in an absurdly beautiful place, and such places warrant posts based solely around photos.

The view off Lee Bay, North Devon. Give it about a 15-minute walk, and there you are.

Days run similarly here at the Grampus Inn: Wake up or sleep in (depending on whose turn it is to clean the floors and bathrooms), maybe work the three-hour lunch shift, or maybe work the two-hour dinner shift. A little Cream Tea in the afternoon. Perhaps some Texas Hold'em at the end of the night.

Looking out at the backyard of the Grampus Inn and the stone art that John made of an orca whale at the top right ("Grampus" is an old local word for orca).

Such a schedule provides us volunteers with a fair amount of free time, so we explore.

Low tide at the bay and a nice big ancient tree

A cat sitting in a box staring out the window. Of course.

Heading from Lee Bay to Woolacombe

Action shot on one of the footpaths

The Brits want you to believe that all they have are royal families and nasty weather. Nothing to see here, folks!

But I'm going to let you in on the secret of the England coast: It's divine.

Catching the sunset colors off a footpath and attempting to spot some seals (but failing)

If you reach the tiny town of Lee Bay, take a five minute walk down a petite path and you've reached the water. There will be no getting lost unless you happen to be blindfolded. At low tide, you can venture out toward the water and pass a set of Victorian stairs that were carved into the rock face and used for who knows what kind of water party shennanigans. As these stairs spend most of their time covered nowadays, the water levels must have changed a bit since then.

Hopping around what the high tide will soon hide

A close-up of the Victorian steps, only seen at low tide

Or just skip the stairs and run the opposite way, in to the freezing Spring ocean. There's nobody around, so do whatever you want.

John and our new friend Stan decide to take a sunset dip

Spring is just beginning to show on the trees here

Or hike the five miles to the three-mile-long stretch that is Woolacombe Beach, Britain's "best beach" (according to a 2012 poll) located in the quaint surf town that is its namesake. Did you even know that England had surf towns??

A dramatic cliff-line stroll as we round the corner from Lee Bay toward Woolacombe Beach

Perhaps these parking lot picnic-goers didn't realize that the beach was literally a 2-minute walk away?

The sheep...they're everywhere

A sheep dog patiently waiting for sheep

If that's not enough entertainment for you, just come by the Grampus on a Friday night for some authentic Celtic music and open-mic time.

Mischievously stationed behind the bar with John and Stan, attempting not to help ourselves to all the real ales.

Bill's (our host) local band, M'Larkey (the woman had a literal basket quiver of reed instruments)

A view of Bill's cozy pub on open mic night.

We are on a "working holiday," aren't we??

Wild Ramson Pesto (aka Garlic Broccoli Pesto)

2013-05-22T10:45:00.005+02:00

There is an explanation: A new volunteer
was arriving and we very reasonably
thought she should walk in on a nice, genial
scene of murder. (Nobody was fooled.)

Between trying to scare new volunteers into thinking that we're dead and making some very amazing scones, we've been getting on pretty well here at the pub.

Ok, I'm unexaggerating, it's amazing here. I'm living above an authentic pub on the Devon coast of England. I'm "working" maaaybe four hours a day. There is a three-legged dog, there are endless coastal hikes, there's house-smoked local trout, a fine espresso machine, Sunday roasts, and poached free-range eggs any time I please.

What else could a girl want??

Low tide

Nothin' better than a leaping lamb

No matter how hard you try Lucy, that shoe is not going to fit your nonexistent paw

Neil the chef's Sunday roast being made as I hover nearby waiting for crispy bits.

Actually, there is one thing...I would like to have a boundless supply of some previously unknown-to-me form of garlic.

Wait, you have that? you have a previously unknown-to-Chowgypsy form of garlic??

Oh life, why must you be so grand?!

Several of the houses throughout the small village of Lee Bay have little signs such as this one advertising the eggs from their backyard chickens. Quaint is the word.

And so it is that I have discovered "wild garlic," more technically known as ramsons, especially technically known as Allium ursinum, and additionally called "bear's garlic" (because bears know what's up). I suppose it's not actually garlic at all, but it certainly smells like it even if it doesn't look the part, and beggars can't be choosers. And even if you're not a beggar, you's a damn fool if you miss out on this.

Bill (our host) had a neighbor who needed this wild garlic "cleared out" of her garden. Oh, we'll clear it out all right.

Ramsons are simply aromatic leaves that smell (you guessed it) of garlic and taste like a very young and mild bulb, but in leaf form. You can eat the leaves (just don't pick the ones with bird poop on them) and the white flower bulbs for a big garlicky burst. The flowers themselves are also edible, but lots of flowers means the leaves have probably gone a bit tough and bitter. As far as those leaves go, throw them in a salad, soup, omelette, use in bruschetta, or if you want to follow one odd suggestion, put on a peanut butter sandwich.

The tasty ramson bulb, which is a nice bursty addition to salads along with the leaves

The white-petaled flowers that cover everything when the time is right, but also signal a decline of the leaves' "edibility"

And of course, you can make wild garlic pesto. And you can add a bit of raw broccoli to secretly boost the nutrition and add some beautiful texture. You can even add real garlic to said pesto. And then you can love and kiss everybody in the world.

Did somebody say pesto?

Healthy Ramson Pesto (Wild Garlic Pesto) with Broccoli
Ingredients*
4 cups ramson
1 cup raw broccoli, chopped
2 cups toasted nuts (anything but peanuts should work fine, I used walnuts and hazelnuts)
2 cloves coarsely chopped garlic or 4 cloves roasted garlic
1/2-3/4 cup EVOO
1/4 cup fresh squeezed lemon juice
salt and pepper to taste
*I chose to take a healthier approach and decide (quite sinfully), not to add cheese to this recipe. There's plenty of flavor as is, but you can add cheese to taste or as a side when serving the pesto.

Directions
Pulse all ingredients except the EVOO in a food processor. With processor on low speed, slowly add EVOO until desired consistency is reached. Add salt and pepper to taste. Add grated aged cheese to taste when serving.

I can go through a batch of this stuff in about three days, and as long as I don't sweat a lot or talk close to other people's faces, I'm ok. What's your record?

A closer look at the ramsons. When in doubt, rub a leaf between your fingers and use your nose, the garlicky, spring oniony smell is unmistakable.

Ahhh, it's nice to be somewhere with a commercial kitchen at my disposal.

Up next, let's talk more about that amazing Devon coast, shall we?