#michael roppolo

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The Ciameletta

Nonna’s cookies are numerous: wine cookies, pizzelle, biscotti; you name it, she makes it! There is one cookie in particular that has proven popular amongst my friends back at college.  That is the ciameletta, a donut shaped cookie that is out of this world!

When they arrive by express mail, I cannot help but eat them all.  Each cookie melts in your mouth and leaves you craving for more! Even my roommates could not resist them.

Ingredients include:

4 cups of flour

4 eggs

1 cup of sugar

1 stick of butter (melted)

4 leveled teaspoons of baking powder

Lemon

First, you have to crack the four eggs in a bowl, mixing in the flour, baking powder and sugar gradually.

Melting the butter over medium heat, you then add the melted butter gradually to the mixture, being careful to not cook the eggs (unless you want chunky cookies).

Next, you have to combine the mixture until it reaches a doughy consistency.  Once it reaches a soft, sticky constancy, you will need to coat a cutting board with flour, and knead the dough.

After you knead the dough, then you must cut the dough into one inch pieces.

Then, you must roll each piece of dough into lengths of three inches. 

After you have the correct length, you create a circular shape with each strip, and put it into a nonstick pan.

Preheat the oven at 350 degrees Fahrenheit, and then put each tray of cookies into the oven until it reaches a golden color. 

Just as each batch is finished, you will be dying to try one, but don’t despair! You just have to wait eight to ten minutes before you can eat them.

Just like dozen of people who try them say, it is so good!

[proudtobeitalianamerican]

Italian Ricotta Cookies

A refreshing treat to be enjoyed any time of the year, ricotta cookies are my personal favorite.  Light from the ricotta and sweet (but not too sweet) it melts in your mouth, while shocking your taste buds with its tangy frosting. 

Good for family gatherings, it is easy to make, just like it is as easy to eat. 

Simply delectable! Need I say anything else? (Photo credit: Michael Roppolo)

1 cup of butter

2 cups of white sugar

2 eggs

16 ounces of ricotta cheese

2 teaspoons of vanilla extract

4 cups of all-purpose flour

1 teaspoon of baking powder

1 teaspoon of baking soda

First, preheat the oven to 350 degrees Fahrenheit.  Grease an aluminum pan. (Personal experience show that these distribute heat the best.)

In a large bowl, mix together the butter and sugar. 

Then, start beating in the eggs, one at a time, and stir in the ricotta cheese and vanilla. 

Next, combine the flour, baking powder and baking soda and stir into the ricotta mixture. 

Drop a teaspoonful of the dough onto the pan that has been greased.

Bake the cookies in the oven for 8-to-10 minutes or until they have turned golden brown. 

Finally, cool for five minutes. 

For the frosting:

1/2 cup of milk

1/2 teaspoon of butter

1/2 teaspoon of shortening

4 cups of confectioners’ sugar

1 tablespoon of lemon extract

1/2 cup colored candy sprinkles

First warm the milk over medium heat, adding 1/2 teaspoon of butter and shortening, in a small saucepan.  

Stir occasionally until the butter and shortening are melted. 

Quickly remove from heat and gradually stir in the confectioners’ sugar and lemon extract. 

Finally, dip each cookie into the icing, and then dip in colored sugar or sprinkles.

Enjoy each cookie with or without the frosting.  They are especially delectable in the dead of winter to bring back memories of sunshine-filled days.

[proudtobeitalianamerican]

New series: Italian restaurants in NYC

As I will be completing another internship in New York City this summer, I am thinking of writing about the various Italian restaurants I chose to eat at.  The catch? I'll be staying within a budget. I'll let you know about the budget in greater detail later. 

According to Zagat, there are only 12 restaurants that made their list of best Italian restaurants in New York City.  Being a native of Rockland County, a suburb located about 30 minutes outside of the city, I know that is simply not true. 

I understand that the city has quite a few Italian restaurants and it is nearly impossible to check them all.  However, it is important to note that a majority of Zagat's recommended restaurants are extremely expensive.  For a 21-year-old journalist, a dinner at one of these places would be prohibitive.

So, that's the plan.  Let me know what you think!

Until then, godersi la vita!

Know of any good Italian restaurants in the New York City area? Let me know! Send me a message through the Proud to be Italian American Facebook page or send me a tweet.

[proudtobeitalianamerican]

The Florence Story

Who, as a teenager, wouldn't want a room to himself or herself when they go away on vacation?

At 14-years-old, I was not an exception - I had been sharing a room with my grandparents up until that point.  So, naturally, when the hotel in Florence was overbooked and I was able to get a room by myself, I jumped at the chance.

My mom and Nonna were not very happy at this little mishap, and didn't want me to have the room. They were worried, as always, but knew that if anything happened, my grandparents were going to be in the room next door.

I was ecstatic and began to think about how cool it was that a teenager would get a room by himself in the middle of Italy.  I rushed up the elevator to see my room!

When I first opened the door to a small five-by-seven "single bedroom," it seemed to be a paradise.  I must have been pretty special - to have had my own room, with a bathroom, television, lock and a key (as it would turn out, that lock would land me in a whole lot of trouble).

Later, after a night of eating some pretty good food, we all retired to our rooms - my parents and sister in one room, with my grandparents in another room, and I in my own separate room.

We were scheduled to visit Venice the next morning and were instructed that the bus to the train would leave promptly - any latecomers would be left behind.  We agreed that my mom would come in and wake me up before it was time to leave.

I put on my pajamas, took my hearing aids out and crawled into bed, falling asleep...

...until I felt a violent shaking.  

"Wake up! Michael, get up." 

My mom was apparently mad at me, but like a silent movie, all I saw were her lips moving, but no sound.  I reached over to the nightstand, took my hearing aids, and put them in.  

Feeling alongside the back of the hearing aid, I flicked of a switch and sound came rushing.  

Mom threw my clothes on the bed.  "Get changed," she said, now screaming, with an upset look on her face.

When I joined the rest of our tour group for breakfast, everyone looked at me and the room got quiet.  One tourist said, "Here's the man of the hour," and everyone started laughing.

Intrigued, I asked my mom, "Exactly what did happen while I was asleep?" My mom began to tell me:

She came to my room and tried to open the door with the extra key that the hotel had given her.  It wouldn't open.  She tried again, but it still wouldn't budge

Unbeknownst to me, I had dead bolted it the night before! When she went down to the front desk to ask the manager to unlock the room, he was unable to do so, because he couldn't find the key.

While they searched for the key, my mom began to call my room, in the hopes that I would wake up.  I didn't.   

They tried banging on the door, but the walls were nearly a foot thick (it was an very old hotel).  So, naturally, I didn't.

"They told us that they were going to have to call the firemen to get you out," she explained.  "They would have had to climb up three stories and crawl through the window."

Finally, after everything was said and done, the manager found the key, and opened the door.  There I was, sleeping, without a care in the world!

Other stories in this series:

The Cabbie Story

The house that was made with wine

[proudtobeitalianamerican]

The house that was made with wine

A front view of my grandfather's childhood home in Ripi, Italy. (Photo credit: Michael Roppolo)

After we finished the tours of Venice, Sorrento, Rome and Capri, we spent some time in my grandfather's town of Ripi. Staying with relatives, we were told of various stories of his childhood and visited where it all happened. He showed us his hiding spot, where he hid when he spent his First Communion money on candy.  He also showed us where he lived as a child.

A side view of my grandfather's childhood home in Italy. (Photo credit Michael Roppolo)

Imagine my shock, when he said, "This house is 500 years old." Imagine my bigger shock when he said, "It was made with wine."

"This house was made with wine," he repeated.

I didn't believe my grandfather at first, but it was true.  When he was a boy, he lived in a 500 year-old house, in which the mortar was mixed with wine, because they didn't have enough water, when they first built it.

He then told us of how he used to wake up in the morning with the view of the valley below.

A view of the valley below. (Photo credit: Michael Roppolo)

"Wow," I thought to myself, "That is some view."

Other stories in this series:

The Cabbie Story

The Florence Story

[proudtobeitalianamerican]

2013: The Year of Italian Culture in the U.S.

In March, the Italian Ambassador to the United States, Claudio Bisogniero, announced that 2013 would be the Year of Italian Culture in the United States, in an effort to “promote and revitalize Italian culture in this country.” 

Although plans have not yet been finalized, it will consist of initiatives focused on Italian accomplishments in science, technology, arts, and more.  Beginning in the Renaissance to modern-day Italy, he hopes it will be particularly successful in reaching younger generation Italian Americans.

“Through this initiative, we hope to stimulate younger generations to be more present, more active, and to search for their Italian roots that, as we were saying are so important,” he said at the Gugliemo Marconi Gala in New York City (see video here).

In fact, this is his first tweet, a welcome message to his followers: 

Welcome, benvenuti to all to my new #Twitter channel. -- Check out my welcome video here:youtu.be/jjWZCMutR8E

— Claudio Bisogniero (@CBisogniero) March 26, 2012

What to expect

As plans have yet to be announced, it is hard to say what events will be hosted. 

However, this is not the first attempt at cultural outreach for the Italian embassy. Italy and Russia announced 2011 to be a Year of Italian/Russian Culture and Language in their respective countries. Events highlighted Italian-Russian contributions in art, science, engineering, and so much more.

The Saint Petersburg State University of Engineering and Economics held events pertaining to Russian music, art, and science in Italy in tell Italian youth “about history, culture and education of Russia,” according to a schedule posted on the school’s website. According to another schedule (third link) found on the site of the Ministry of Culture in Russia, events were various exchanges of culture, through experiences.

I personally can’t wait, because this will bring pride to Italian American; strengthen Italy-United States relations, and more importantly, it will inform other Americans of the contributions Italian Americans have made.

What do you expect to see next year? Let us know in the comments section below!

[proudtobeitalianamerican]

I nonni: The grandparents

When reviewing this blog this past weekend, I realized that I hadn’t taken the time to introduce you to my grandparents.  So in honor of them, I would like to introduce i miei nonni (my grandparents).

My grandparents and I, when they came to visit me at college last year. (Photo credit: Anna Roppolo)

Giorgio Bauco (Nonno)

Born in 1937 in the small town of Ripi, Italy, my Nonno was the second child out of five children. During World War II, German planes bombed his home, and by the end of the war, “there was nothing left in Italy,” he often tells the grandchildren. 

So, in search of a better life, he followed his father to Brazil in 1952. Leaving Italy on the Ugulino Vivaldi, he experienced an engine malfunction. Staying on the island of Sardinia for 20 days, he left for Brazil aboard the Paolo Toscanelli, a small fishing boat.  Unable to enter the United States, he and his father lived in San Paulo for seven years.  

When he arrived to America in 1959 on a cold December night, it had been an interesting trip (to say the least). As a result of engine failures, the pilot had to make an unscheduled detour to Santo Domingo, modern-day Dominican Republic. Speaking only Italian, he took a taxicab to his uncle’s apartment on 161st Street in the Bronx.

He then began his trade as a mold-maker, working during the day, while attending night school to learn English. In 1960, he met his future wife, Angela, whom he married six months later (they just celebrated their 51st anniversary in April).

This Google map shows you how my grandparents came to the United States. To see an enlarged one, click here. (Made with Google Maps)

Angela Bauco (Nonna)

My Nonna was born in 1938, in the small town of San Anatolia, Italy. The oldest of five sisters, she was 15 years old when she came to America in 1953 aboard a boat (an actual boat, mind you, not the fishing boat my grandfather went to Brazil). The only one of her family in America, she stayed with her grandfather in the Bronx. She then went to work as a seamstress.

“I once got lost on the subways,” she always tells us. “I didn’t know any English and it was very frightening.”

Shortly afterwards, she was joined by the rest of her family. In 1960, she met and married my grandfather, Giorgio. In 1961, he was called to serve in the United States army in Vietnam. Proud of the U.S., he wanted to serve.

“I was ready. I got my physical and everything,” he always said. However, my Nonna was pregnant with their first child. Using a parental deferment, he was able to stay home, and some time later, they welcomed their first child, Luisa. Then, came Anna (1965) and Frances (1972).

My grandparents would go on to teach their children (and later, grandchildren) what it meant to be Italian American. Being surrounded by family who loved each other with good food – supportive, loving, and caring - that’s what being Italian American is all about.

Needless to say, it was that closeness, and the very definition of a family, that inspired me to create this blog. 

Ti amo! I love you!

[proudtobeitalianamerican]

Alla tavola (At the table): Italian Table Manners

Eating and enjoying family time is such a big part of the Italian culture and traditions, but what happens when you go to another person’s house? 

Italian table manners are undoubtedly different in the way tables are set, the way courses are presented, and the way people are expected to behave.

How? Read on and find out!

This YouTube video shows the way to prepare a table, Italian-style. (Video Credit: mycreativeenergy)

Setting the table

1. A tablecloth is usually placed on a table to help with cleaning afterwards.   We normally do this at home, and when we’re done, we scrula (or shake) the tablecloth.

2. First we place il piatto (the plate) in front of the chair.  In more formal dinners, there is more than one dish.  It is the plate, followed by la zuppiera (the soup bowl) and the piatto (salad plate).

3. We then place la forchetta (the fork) on the right of the plate. In more formal dinners, you would have la forchetta l'insalata (the salad fork).

4. Il coltello (the knife) is placed to the right of the dish with the sharp edge facing the dish.  Il cucchiaio (the big spoon) is placed to the right of that. In more formal dinners, il cucchiaino (the small spoon, or teaspoon) is placed besides the knife, followed by the “big” spoon.

5. The bicchiere (glass) is placed above the right side of the plate.   In more formal dinners, there are two one for il vino (wine) and one for l'acqua (water).  There is also a coffee cup above the right side of the plate.

Order of the meal

In a more formal Italian meal, there is a different order (other than what is practiced in America) in which people must follow.

1. First is gli antipasti (before the meal, or appetizers). There is usually a mixture of deli meats and regional vegetables and fruits, such as salume (salami), prosciutto e melone (prosciutto and melon), olives, and bruschetta.

2. Followed by il primo (the first course), it is usually a pasta dish, such as homemade spaghetti, risotto, or soup. On the table, there is always a loaf of bread to clean your plate, or as we say in my family, “soak up the sugu (sauce).”

3. Then comes gli secondi (the second course), meaning il carne (meat), l’agnello (lamb), or pollo (chicken). It is usually served with i contorni (side dishes), such as broccoli rabe or potatoes.

4. After gli secondi, many people have some l’insalata (salad) to refresh their taste palate, and prepare for dessert. Some have fennel to cleanse their palates as well.

5. Finally, the meal often ends with i dolci (sweets, or desserts). If you are in a restaurant, fruit and cheese are common desserts, but if you’re in another person’s house, the host usually serves a homemade dessert, such as gli pizzelli. Espresso is usually the beverage of choice after i dolci is served.

Side note: Every Sunday, I always go over Nonna’s house and have a three-to-four-course meal, much like the meal described above. Comprised of an antipasto of cheese and salami, a primo of pasta and meatballs, a secondo of chicken cutlets, salad, and for i dolci, we usually have grapes, figs, or persimmons, depending on the season.

If that’s what we eat on a typical Sunday dinner, imagine what the holidays must be like!

Eating at the table

Here is a short list of manners to keep in mind while eating (see the full list here).

Do:

Wait until the host or hostess has seated, before you are seated yourself.

Wait until the host or hostess begins to eat, before you eat yourself.

Use the knife in your right hand and the fork in your left.

Wait until the host or hostess leaves the table before you excuse yourself.

Drink the wine the host or hostess sets out for you (Italians love to show off their wine, especially if it is homemade).  If you do not want any more wine, keep the glass full.

Don’t:

Arrive terribly late (or early, for that matter).  It is extremely rude to do so.  15-20 minutes after the requested time is acceptable.

Put your elbows on the table.  Try to keep your elbows tucked into your body and avoid touching others with your elbows.

Use your hands to eat, for it is considered very rude if you do so.