An American Foodie in Italy

Jenna inspires me with her passion for cooking. While I struggle with even the most basic dishes she improvises culinary masterpieces on a daily basis. One of the first activities we planned in Italy was a cooking class at our hotel. It was humbling to find myself in the kitchen of a professional Italian chef and to once again witness Jenna’s passion and skill. Jenna has authored today’s blog and describes her experience first hand. At the end of her story you will find a link to our video documenting the class.

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I woke up this beautiful Wednesday morning excited for the cooking class I signed up for at Buca di Bacco later in the day. Admittedly, I was a little groggy from the night before, but the feeling wore off as soon as I stepped onto our terrace and into the warm sun. Today was intentionally scheduled as a relaxing beach day after yesterday’s gorgeous hike on the Path of Gods which landed us in Nocelle. We then endured what I called torture down 1,700 stairs back to Positano.

Before heading to the beach, Jeff and I ate breakfast at our hotel. As I’m trying to stick to the Italian traditions, I had a few paper-thin slices of prosciutto along with some melon and fresh mozzarella. After breakfast we headed to the rocky beach just outside our hotel. I was feeling “molto Italiano” (very Italian) on the beach in my new black and white cutout bathing suit, white lace cover-up and festive fedora. I soaked up the sun, swam in the clear Mediterranean Sea and read a book for a few hours. After enough sun to just burn the tops of my knees, I decided to book a massage at the Hotel Poseidon spa to soothe my sore legs from the torture I had endured the previous day. As I a struggled up the hilly streets of Positano, calves cramping and thighs shaking, I grew more and more thankful for the spa up the hill. I booked a 50 minute Swedish massage for Saturday morning.

Molto Italiano!

As I walked back down the hill toward my hotel I decided to stop at Collina, a Positano bakery. The cooking class brochure recommended eating only a light brunch prior to the class. But telling me not to eat in Italy is like telling our dogs Harmony and Melody to stop barking. It just ain’t happening. After scanning all of the amazing looking pastries, I decided to order uno Sfogliatella for myself e due Codina di Aragosta for Jeff. I just couldn’t resist those light, flaky golden layers of pastry.

Bellissimo!

As I continued the painful descent to my hotel, I kept thinking about how excited I was for this cooking class. Being in a professional Italian kitchen cooking alongside seasoned chefs is a dream come true for me. I may have teared up slightly just thinking about it as I walked through the town. It was either the realization of a dream come true or the pain in my legs. I sucked it up and though to myself what any girl would… “What am I going to wear?!”

As I got ready, I could feel my nerves heighten and butterflies in my stomach. Cooking is a passion of mine. I started cooking for myself and others when I moved into a house off-campus in my junior year at the University of Rhode Island. I had a full kitchen, so why not cook! Cooking was always a big part of the holidays while I was growing up in New Jersey. My mom and my aunt would always take turns cooking elaborate meals for Thanksgiving and Christmas.

Thanksgiving always included a 20 pound turkey with stuffing, mashed potatoes, gravy, sweet potato casserole, turnips mashed with bacon fat, asparagus or broccoli with lemon vinaigrette, a variety of pies and a mountain of cookies. Christmas featured a savory spiral ham with raisin sauce, baked beans, scalloped potatoes, asparagus or broccoli and again too many desserts. There was always enough food for an army and even as I got older and the guest count lowered due to family members spending time with their own spouses and children, the amount of food did not change. The leftovers only lasted longer.

Both my mom and my aunt were my inspiration to be creative with food, and my Puerto Rican father and grandmother gave me the stomach to eat it all. I hosted my first Thanksgiving in my 20s and my mom came to visit me in Maine to help prepare the meal, an experience with her that I’ll never forget. Staying true to our tradition, we spent a few days preparing a meal that would inevitably take about 30 minutes to eat. Thanks to her, everything came out perfectly.

When I was in college, my mom taught me her recipe for classic tomato sauce with sausage and meatballs, which she learned from her late Italian mother-in-law, Mrs. Bua. To make the meatballs, we use a traditional mix of pork, veal and beef. As I furthered my cooking experience, I tweaked this recipe myself by grating in some onion into the mixture. The onion juice really helps keep the meatballs moist and adds flavor.  Once the meatballs and both sweet and hot Italian sausage are browned in olive oil, they go into a huge pot of tomato sauce over low heat for several hours. I make this meal a lot when I have dinner parties of my own and usually include a few pans of baked ziti and eggplant parmigiana as well. I do love that eggplant! To me, there is nothing like the smell of a big pot of sauce simmering on the stove all day long. Sometimes I think I was meant to be Italian. Alas, I was born with fair Irish skin and a Puerto Rican last name.

Oh yes, back to the cooking class! As I stepped into the restaurant boldly wearing white shorts which I hoped wouldn’t get covered in tomato sauce, I was greeted by Raffaele, our translator and guide around the kitchen. He handed me a bag of goodies. "Grazia. Buona sera," I said with my best Italian accent. Thankfully, one of the goodies in the bag was an apron. In addition, I was given a recipe book, a pen, a gnocchi paddle and a chef’s hat which I proudly sported. Jeff was with me and even though he didn’t participate in the class, he was able to come into the kitchen with me to document the entire afternoon.

Ready to go to work

Remember my comment to Jeff from yesterday's blog about the grocery store? Well, the same holds true for actually cooking the meal if he was able to find the groceries. I love him to death, but the man is no Bobby Flay to say the least. One weekend I was out of town and he was in the mood to make some pancakes. What he ended up with was a batter splattered kitchen, a sink full of dirty dishes, four burnt pans, zero pancakes and one helluva story for me when I returned. He conceded a bowl of cereal was a better option.

Jeff and I joined six other people in the class, which was led by the very handsome Chef Andrea Ruggerio. We were each given our own working station and a glass of Prosecco, which continued to be refilled throughout the afternoon. Don’t worry, I was still able to keep my knife steady by the end of the class! On the menu was chocolate almond cake, eggplant parmigiana (yay, my favorite!), fresh fettuccine pasta, potato gnocchi with cherry tomato, Bolognese and pesto sauces.

Chef Andrea Ruggiero and his new protégée

We started with the almond cake since that takes the longest to cook. One lady, who was also with her husband, was in charge of separating six eggs. She broke the yolk on the first one and while she thought she could just scoop the yolk out with a spoon, the chefs realized what had happened and a signaled a red alert. Aghast with horror, they immediately took action by dumping out the eggs and vigorously sterilizing the bowl. "There must not be any trace of yolk in the whites!!" they proclaimed. Trembling with fear, the girl tried again oh so carefully and succeeded. To her husband's relief, the chefs let her live.

I was in charge of beating the eggs whites (no yolk please!!) until they were creamy and fluffy like whipped cream. My first task completed. The chef mixed all the ingredients and the cakes went in the oven. Next we started on the eggplant. We were each given two long, thin eggplants to peel and slice. With each task I felt like I was on Top Chef. I wanted to be the first one done with each sliced perfectly a half inch thick. I don't know if they were perfectly sliced, but I finished first. I win! What's my prize? We salted the eggplant to release the water so they would fry up crisp.

My favorite ingredient!

While we waited for the eggplant water extraction process to do its thing, we quartered a mound of cherry tomatoes for the tomato sauce. I didn't win this particular challenge - a challenge only I knew was taking place - but those suckers are slippery! I'll also put some blame on Jeff for slowing me down a bit. With every move I took, every slice of the knife, every roll of my pasta dough Jeff was right there filming me with his camera. I now have the lead role in a new Oscar-winning documentary film, directed and produced by J.R. Marion, the Steven Spielberg of the culinary world. "Wait, take another sip of wine. No, not yet. Okay, now. Now slice the tomato slowly. CUT! Do it again, but with more feeling. ACTION! Sprinkle the cheese onto the eggplant parm. Don't do it until I'm ready though." And so on... He got all kinds of angles. The camera was in my face, over my shoulder, across the room, directly in front of what I was doing so that I actually had to look at his iPhone screen to see where I was cutting. I even had to shoot a second scene of me eating bruschetta so he could catch me doing my “happy food shimmy.” It should be a riveting film!

About three quarters of the way through the class it was time to make the pasta and the gnocchi. Something I've never done from scratch but always wanted to do. I will definitely be putting my KitchenAid pasta maker attachment and new gnocchi paddle to good use soon. As we were rolling out the pasta sheets and Chef Andrea tossed semolina flour across the long steel table, I was able to really take in the moment. This was definitely a dream come true for me and it exceeded my expectations in every way. In my mind everything was in slow motion (or maybe it was just the wine). I watched the chef toss the flour like a pair of dice across the craps table. I guided the sheets of dough through the pasta cutter as I collected the beautiful ribbons as they came out the other side. I watched the chef sprinkle confectioners’ sugar which covered the almond cakes like winter's first snowfall. I snapped out of my daze as they plated our food and led us to the dining room to taste the final product.

Courtesy of the Chef

The eight of us gathered around the table as gargantuan plates of food were placed in front of us. We were served a mound of fettuccine with Bolognese, a full personalized portion of eggplant parmigiana and what seemed like 100 pillows of gnocchi coated in pesto sauce. Our eyes lit up as we began to tackle this monster called dinner.

As we ate our food and drank our wine, we got to know the group of cooking class students a little better. There were two beautiful young ladies who met each other in New York City and became fast friends. One works for Nintendo (Yes boys, a gorgeous woman who works for Nintendo!) The other young lady just as ravishing works for a fashion merchandising company. The two friends have since moved away from each other, but still take the time to do an annual trip together. There was also a young husband and wife couple who live in Ohio. The husband is an ER resident and his wife a financial advisor. Finally, there was another couple from Hilton Head, South Carolina who have been together for 26 years. The husband used to live in New York City while starting his insurance business and was the #3 dart player in town. Yes, you heard right - #3!

After what felt like hours of eating, we had barely made a dent in our plates, except for one person – my hungry husband! He had completely polished off every ounce of food. As he took his final bite, we all gave him a round of applause for his accomplishment. Finally, we were served our dulci – a slice of chocolate almond cake paired with a scoop of vanilla gelato. Most of us managed a few bites of the sweet cake, but again Jeff acted like he hadn’t eaten in months consuming every crumb.

Sweet confections

Finally, as Jeff realized what he had just accomplished we wiped our mouths clean, drained our glasses of wine and bid adieu to our new friends. As any good wife would do, I rolled my husband out of the restaurant and back to our room to digest and rest up for our trip to Capri the next day.
About an hour later, I shamefully finished off the rest of the Sfogliatella I had bought earlier that day.

I don’t regret it.

Hotel Buca di Bacco Cooking Class Video