la vita della casalinga

I once knew a woman who had spent several years doing whatever she wanted after her husband sold his business. I asked her what she did all day. "Mostly shopped," she replied. This was probably a poor model for what the life of a housewife is like but it did make an impression on me. When I found out we were moving here I thought of her and pictured my life being sort of the same with a few museum visits and salon appointments thrown in to the mix (just for variety). People asked me what I was planning on doing when we arrived here and I would say with pride, "I'm going to be a housewife, aren't you jealous?" The reactions were rarely what I had predicted. To me, being a housewife meant my life, as it was in New York, without the work or the school. It was a brutal realization that your house actually gets dirty if you have the free time to clean it. Far more discouraging is the fact that simple tasks take twice as long to accomplish here. Doing laundry used to mean taking two loads down to the laundry room once a week. Now, with our petite little washer and no dryer, laundry is a constant occupation between the two hour cycle and hanging everything up to dry. Thanks to FreshDirect, grocery shopping was strictly an internet affair for me in New York. I planned a week's worth of meals, placed the order and tipped a delivery man who showed up with boxes full of food. Now that I have to carry everything to the top of the hill and am now buying all of the water we drink (Roman tap water is so full of calcium we live in fear of kidney stones) I make several trips per week.


The one redeeming aspect of being a housewife in Italy is having all of the ingredients for great Italian recipes at your fingertips (or in my case, at the bottom of your hill). Today I am making my favorite Tuscan recipe, Ribollita. Ribollita means, "reboiled." To make a true ribolitta is a three day affair and I have only ever gotten as far as two days. I decided that I am going for the real deal this time and I hope some of you will join me. I know I have been bad about blogging, but I promise you three continuous days of posts if you make ribollita with me. I can also promise you a rewarding food experience. The great thing about ribollita is that although it takes a bit of effort the first day, you can eat the finished product for three days with a little variation so there is a nice pay off. The first day you make a minestrone. This takes the most work but don't get discouraged, it's going to get easier. First you'll need to pick up a few things. Don't worry, this can all be carried by one person in one trip:




3 Red Onions



1 bunch of Leeks



3 medium Carrots



3 medium Potatos



1 bulb of Fennel



2 ribs Celery



3 cloves Garlic



1 bunch of Parsley



Thyme (fresh (6 sprigs) or dried (1 and 1/2 teaspoons))



2 cans Cannellini Beans



Low Sodium Chicken or Vegetable stock (2 small cans) or the equivalent in bouillon cubes



One can 28 oz can of diced or crushed plum tomatos



Dry white wine



One Ciabatta or loaf of crusty bread



Parmesan (ungrated, with the rind)


The Ribollita purists are now saying, but what about the cabbage? It is true that cabbage is an essential ingredient in a Ribollita. The first time I tried to make it here I went to the store and marveled at the cabbages and finally asked a woman which one was used for Ribolitta. It's called Verze. You can look it up in the dictionary if you decide, after reading the rest of this blog, that you still want to get some. So I picked out a head of the verze admiring the lovely lacey leaves. After peeling off a few outer leaves I found the cause of the pretty perforations, a little green worm inside still munching away. Sadly, I had just recovered from another traumatic worm incident. At the tender age of eight I was eating a picnic lunch in the great outdoors, our front porch in Warren, when an inch worm descended into my lunch box. It took years before I could eat outside again. Not wanting to risk another set back I have decided not to purchase cabbage in Italy where they seem to be concerned about pesticides. To me, the psychological trauma is far worse than ingesting some chemicals. But anyway, if you decide you want to be authentic and have no fear of vermin and/or live in an area liberal with pesticides, add some savoy cabbage to the list. To be ultra authentic you should use black leaf kale, but you will probably have trouble finding that in a grocery store, especially in the states.

Now the purists are saying, "Fennel? Wine? There is no fennel or wine in Ribollita!" That's true but they make it taste good, and both are generally vermin free.

Drain your Cannellini beans. Mash up one can of the beans in the food processor or with a fork and put them aside. Chop up your vegetables beginning with your onions (use two and put one aside for tomorrow), leeks, celery and garlic. Sweat these in the bottom of the pan in a few tablespoons of olive oil. Salt them and cook them over low heat - this is a sweat, not a saute - you aren't trying to sear the taste into the veggies, you want to draw it out. Once your veggies have softened, add the other chopped veggies (except the parsley), the diced tomatos and their juice, the thyme and 2 cups of dry white wine and some stock - generally two small cans of stock plus one or two more cans of water. Add the Cannellini beans - smashed and whole. Don't worry if it looks a little thin. You also want to add the rind, and just the rind, of the parmesan. If you have planned ahead and have saved the rind from your last wedge then add that. If not, just chop it off your new piece and throw it in. This is where the brave will throw in 1/4 of a head of shredded cabbage. Cook this for an hour and twenty minutes. Taste it and adjust the seasoning and just before taking it off the heat, add the chopped parsley.


Enjoy a bowl of the soup for dinner tonight with a little parmesan grated on top. Don't go crazy though because you need some for tomorrow. I plan to keep you in suspense as to the next incarnation of your leftovers, but I will tell you that you will need some stale bread. Slice up at least 1/2 of your loaf of bread thinly and let it sit out over night if necessary. There won't be much work to do tomorrow, especially if you have your bread sliced up tonight, so go ahead and go shopping.