Great Grandpa Ventura

Some important news came in the mail yesterday about the patriarch of the Ventura clan, Paul's great grandpa Giovanni Ventura. Giovanni came to America in 1914 when he was 18 years old and settled in Ohio. Here's Paul with great-grandpa and great-grandma, Augusta Rose Longo, in their backyard in Ohio when Paul was a baby in the late 1970s. Giovanni and Augusta, who was originally from Sicily, met in the States.

This family shot shows Paul with his dad in the center, and moving to the left is Augusta, Paul's grandfather Art, and Giovanni on the far left. Thanks to Paul's mom Helen for finding these photos!

Great-grandpa was from Acquaviva delle Fonti, and when we visited the town in December to trace Paul's family roots, we found Giovanni's birth certificate. However, we were still on the hunt for some additional, essential information about great-grandpa. We needed to know when he became a US citizen. If Giovanni was naturalized after he and Augusta had Paul's grandfather Art, then Paul and I could claim dual-citizenship with Italy.

The official letter from the US Immigration and Naturalization office came in the mail yesterday, in response to our records request. To our delight, great-grandpa became a citizen in 1928, 14 years after he immigrated, which was well after he had Paul's grandpa!!

If we become dual-citizens, we can travel to and from Italy anytime without a visa, and work there as well. Plus we would quality for National health care and other benefits too. So naturally we're going to go for it.

Now to tackle the massive task of gathering all of the certified birth, marriage, divorce, and death records for the application. We'll keep you posted.

Great-grandpa Ventura, we're coming around full-circle!!

Pietro, Roberta, and white truffles...

Forgive the time between postings...we haven't forgotten about the site! It's just that Emily and I have been quite busy with everything involved in re-integrating ourselves back in the U.S.

No excuses though! We still have a ton of pictures, and things to write about, from Italy.

Like this, for instance. We lived in an apartment building in Bologna, at the end of a hallway on the fifth floor. Since there was no elevator, we spent a considerable amount of time every day going up and down the stairs - and often during that time, we'd see our next-door neighbors Pietro and Roberta.

Didn't take us long, of course, to talk about Italian food with them. And as soon as we did so, it became apparent that Pietro and Roberta are, like most Italians, very "into" their local food and justifiably proud of it.

I fooled you, though, because grapes and tangerines aren't what I want to write about.  I just wanted to break up the text with a picture.

Fruit is nice and all, but it's not very, well, special.  And Pietro is a man with an appreciation for the finer things.

Can you see what's in his hand? Pietro and Roberta came over for dinner one night in November, and November in Italy means one thing to foodies: tartufi bianchi. White truffles.

In the pic he's holding just one of them, because he stopped by before the dinner to show us (and let us smell) what we were in for. When showed up for dinner, though, Pietro brought 5 white truffles. Let me restate that. HE BROUGHT 5 WHITE TRUFFLES. We were dumbstruck - Italian white truffles sell for several thousand dollars per pound, even in Bologna. But, as is the Italian way, it's all about who you know. And Pietro's friend is a a truffle-hunter.

Pietro and Roberta, it should also be said, are wonderfully generous. So in addition to the tartufi, they brought all the accompaniments needed for a classic Bolognese feast: fresh tagliatelle pasta (made by Pietro's cousin), 4 different types of bread, eggs, wine, and mortadella. Oh, and the hardware needed to enjoy it!

You see, this wasn't just any old mortadella. It was mortadella di asino, which is typical of the region. So of course we needed the typical knife to cut it, which Pietro brandished when I opened the door. It made me jump and had me wondering for a second if I'd wronged him, because really it's less like a knife and more like a machete:

Oh yes, and if you don't speak Italian, "asino" means "donkey." As you can see, it's not called that because it's donkey-shaped or anything...yep, that's what it's made with. Being a fan of exotic meats, I thoroughly enjoyed it!

But the next course was even more enjoyable (especially for Emily). Fresh tagliatelle pasta with an obscene amount of white truffle on top. It didn't start out obscene, because I got the honor of the first turn with the truffle shaver, and I was a little timid. I mean, I didn't want to be rude - it felt like I was shaving money onto my plate.

Pietro would have none of that, though. He took the shaver over my plate and showed me how it was done:

The truffle was heavenly in smell alone....eating it on the pasta was amazing. I don't know what happens in the brain when you eat truffle, but it's more than just flavor, it releases endorphins and gives a head rush, a natural high. You can see it on our faces:

After the pasta, we fried up the eggs and ate them with, you guessed it, more truffle. Emily liked the eggs even more than the pasta.

All in all it was just an incredible meal. The funny thing is, though, it was really very simple, very few ingredients. But when your ingredients are this amazing on their own, we've learned that the simple dishes really are the best because it lets them shine.

I doubt we'll ever have white truffles like this again, because unless you know a truffle hunter it really is just crazy expensive to eat them in such quantity. But boy oh boy am I glad we got to fully experience them, if even just once.

I understand, now, why white truffles are so highly prized. If there's one on the counter in a paper sack, you can smell it through the whole kitchen. When you shave them over warm pasta, the perfume is overwhelming. And eating them gets you absolutely giddy from the overload of savory, earthy, intense umami taste. Heck, if we ever move back to Italy maybe I'll get a dog or two (used instead of pigs these days) and teach them to root out the white gold myself!

Ah, that would certainly be the life....


Grazie mille Pietro e Roberta! Recordiamo molto affettuosamente la nostra splendida cena con voi, e vi mandiamo un caro saluto!!!

Cure for post-Italy blues

We are home-sick for Italy. At this point we are not really sure where our home is, but right now it still feels like Bologna and it's hard to not be there. Look for a post soon about what we are missing most about Bologna, and the differences between our life in Italy and our life in Los Angeles. But for now, I'd just like to share the best coping mechanism I have found so far: making fresh pasta. When I get sad, I've been getting out the rolling pin...

I actually never made fresh pasta while in Italy, which seems like a shame to me now that I have been practicing doing it and liking the results. But the kitchen we had there was limited, and there were lovely little shops selling fresh pasta on almost every street. The last (and only) time I made it was when I was working as a cook in Seattle in 2002. Coming back to our place in Los Angeles and finding our more spacious counter top and rolling pin, I was inspired. And I am finding that it really isn't hard at all, and not too time-consuming. Also, I have found that you don't need a machine to roll it out. The classic method is to do it by hand anyway. I am working on getting the noodles even thinner, and am excited to play around with ravioli and lasagna next. Let me know if you want to try it too and want recipes, or if you would like to come over, have some pasta, and help cheer us up!

Terra Madre

Today I realized why I haven’t been able to bring myself to write about Terra Madre, which was in late October. My fellowship was over at the end of November, and we always referred to Terra Madre as one of the last major things we would do during our stay. So when the event rolled around, denial set in that our time was almost over. In fact, we are still in denial that it is over now that we are already back in Los Angeles. In addition to the denial factor holding me back from writing, the event was just so big and overwhelming that I am still working to form my opinions about it.

Terra Madre is a 4 day, international Slow Food event that happens every 2 years in Torino. This year there were over 6,000 participants from over 160 countries. To give you a sense of the size of the event, here is the venue for the opening ceremonies, which were held in the arena built for the 2006 Olympic games.

The idea is to bring together food producers, activists, and educators from across the world to share experiences and generate new ideas. Here are representatives from each country as they entered the opening ceremony.

I had been accepted as a US delegate for the event, and Paul as an observer. This conference occurs side-by-side with an even bigger, public event called Salone del Gusto, which is an exposition of sustainably produced artisan foods and wines from across Italy and other parts of the world too. Needless to say, these 4 days were absolutely packed with opportunities to meet new people and try new things.

There is likely no other event worldwide where artisan food production is celebrated so vibrantly. If you don't believe me, all you need to do is see the photo of the d.j. at the Prosciutto di San Daniele stand.

The conference sessions were ongoing, and meanwhile there were other events and tastings occurring simultaneously. It was impossible to do and see even a small fraction of all of the things I would have liked to while there, which initially left me feeling overwhelmed and frustrated. But, as I reflect more on the event, I realize that despite some of the logistical constraints and ensuing sense of chaos, there were many moments where I was able to feel grounded and present, and make meaningful connections.

What I liked most about the experience were the things that made it most personal, such as:

--Spending a morning working as a chef delegate for the Eat-in, which was one of the youth organized conference events. As part of this event, Paul and I had the chance to spend the morning at a local, family-fun gastronomia, or specialty food store/deli. Giovanni, the owner of the store, welcomed us and gave us an insider's look into how he and his family run the business. Here we are with Giovanni and his wife, center, and one of the cooks (right).

Here I am inside the shop with Giovanni and Laura, a student from the University of Gastronomic Sciences, who was also appointed as a chef-delegate to the gastronomia.

Behind the scenes, in the kitchen, we learned how to make a number of their specialty dishes, including bagna cauda and lasagna Bolognese.

Here I am learning how to make an insalata russa and Paul learning how to use the slicer.

This food was shared at the Eat-in event, which is like a cross between a protest and a potluck, similar to the events we planned across the US during the Time for Lunch campaign in 2009 when we worked to raise awareness about improving school food. The Terra Madre Eat-in was a chance to network with other youth activists and to partner with the community in Torino, such as with Giovanni, who joined us for lunch.

--Another one of my favorite Terra Madre experiences was helping my friend from Slow Food Bologna, Hande, conduct interviews and surveys for a project she developed to ask participants from various cultures about their views on food and health. Here I am with Hande interviewing an indigenous woman from Costa Rica who had a number of very valuable insights.

--I also really appreciated the chance to meet other Slow Food leaders at the US Chapter Leaders meeting.

Here I am with some of the other leaders from the Southern California area.

--Despite its size, Salone del Gusto started to come alive with personal connections. Paul, knowing his family was from Puglia, spent quite a bit of time in the section that featured foods from that region. He even found a stand featuring red onions from Acqua Viva delle Fonti, the small town where his great grandfather was born.

At that stand, Paul met Angelo, who we later coincidentally met while in Acqua Viva delle Fonti. As Paul mentioned in his post on our trip to find his family roots, Angelo turned out to be a very close friend of our new relatives.

--Even standing in lines led to random personal connections. One day, in line for an espresso, I met Alexandra Agajanian. It turns out that she is also based in Los Angeles and works for SEE-LA (Sustainable Economic Enterprises of Los Angeles), the non-profit that supports the Hollywood Farmer's Market and other local markets and programs. Alexandra was handing out gifts from the farmers, such as the little bag of pistachios that she proudly shared with me. After 10 months away from home, it warmed my heart to randomly receive a gift from the farmers at my favorite hometown market.

--Speaking of connections, I do also want to mention an important new relationship between Paul and some very smelly French cheese. I couldn't appreciate it quite as much as he could, but trust me, that cheese brought Paul some serious joy. It is not that I don't like smelly cheese, but when I say that this was strong, I mean strong to a whole new level that I never knew was possible.

In four days I think he must have visited the stand at least 8 times.

So as you can see, even though we didn't hear all of the speakers we hoped to hear, participate in all of the workshops we wanted to, meet all of the people we could have, or taste all of the things that were offered, we managed to have very personal, unforgettable Terra Madre experience.

Acquaviva delle Fonti

Ciao tutti! As many of you know, Emily and I are back in the US now, Emily's project finished (somewhat), we ran out of money (more than somewhat), and so the 1st part of our Italian adventure is finished....BUT there may be a sequel coming soon, so stay tuned for that!

Anyway we were so busy getting everything ready to come back for the last month or so, we've got a big backlog of things to post about. This is one of my favorites...

About 2 weeks ago, we took the night train and headed south to Bari, the capital of Puglia. Once in Bari, we then took a bus to a little town about 20km away called Acquaviva delle Fonti.



What's in Acquaviva, you ask? Well, it's where my family comes from, the home of the Venturas. That's right, as much as I don't look it, my great-grandfather Giovanni actually comes from this southern Italian town. It's in the countryside surrounded by olive groves, and is a beautiful place, very small and completely untouched by tourism.









As we learned at a Slow Food event we attended a few months prior in Torino, Acquaviva delle Fonti is most famous for the sweet red onion (cipolla rossa) it produces.


The first night we were in Acquaviva there was a Christmas fair in the center of town, all the locals came out.


It was also a "sagra," or festival, of a food called pettole - fried bits of dough, and panzerotti, dough filled with mozzarella and tomato. On the recommendation of the local barista, we got our pettole at the Senior Center and washed them down with some homemade vino primitivo wine. Those old timers really know what they're doing with cooking the traditional foods, the pettole were delicious...


But as delicious as they were, we weren't in town to eat the local doughballs. We were on a mission - to find some Venturas.

And as it turned out, we only had to wait a few hours. At the senior center, I told one of the guys about our mission, and he called over one of the several Venturas that happened to be in the room. Apparently, in Acquaviva you can hardly toss a pettola in the air without hitting a Ventura. Checking into the hotel that evening, the proprietor shared the name, too. After conversation we discovered we weren't related, but he still was happy to give us a "Ventura discount."

After a night of real sleep (the night train was a little rough), we headed in the morning to visit with Lina.


Lina has lived in Acquaviva all her life, and is a friend of our friend Anna's mom Teresa (who we stayed with in Sicily). Lina knew about our Ventura quest, and had done some research of her own. In fact, she had met a Ventura while waiting at the doctor's office, and called him up to come meet with us.

Before long we were sitting in Lina's living room sipping coffee with Costantino Ventura and his wife Maria. Since there are so many Venturas in Acquaviva, we weren't sure if we were actually blood relatives - but it only took them about 15 minutes to declare that regardless, we were family now. They were definitely not joking.

When they asked us what we were doing for lunch that day, we replied that we didn't have any plans and would probably just find a place in town to eat. The look of concern on Maria's face said it all. New family members eating alone, no less at some random restaurant? It simply isn't acceptable in Italy.

So, before we knew it we were in Costantino and Maria's home, being treated to an amazing dish of pasta e fagioli. The Venturas have a son and a daughter, Domenico (Mimmo) and Rosa, who we got to meet as they all eat together every day. Here's Rosa modeling some of Acquaviva's famous red onions:


It was a wonderful lunch, and we were thinking it couldn't get much better. Only, as it turned out, because we had no idea what was in store for us the following day.

But before I get to that, I have to tell you about what we did after lunch. We decided to go down to the town comune, which is like a central town office that keeps all the records.


I'd previously quizzed my family and done some research on an Italian genealogy site, so we had the names and approximate birthdates of my great grandfather, his wife, and his father. Details of his brothers and sisters and other precise information were sketchy, so we wanted to see if the comune could help us track it down.

Costantino was nice enough to go with us. Here's a pic of the two of us talking to the town clerk...


If you can believe it, they had several books just of Venturas. And without very precise information, it wasn't an easy task to find my relatives. For example, my great-great-grandfather's name was Eustachio. Sounds to us like an unusual name - but Eustachio is also the name of the patron saint of Acquaviva. So, you can't imagine how many Eustachio Venturas were on the books. Don't even get me started on Giovanni!


Long story short, the clerk couldn't find all of my great-grandfather's information in her book of Venturas. "It might have gone missing when the records were digitized," she told us, "it wouldn't be uncommon." She found some names that looked like they matched what I knew of his siblings, but we couldn't tell for sure. She asked me if I was sure he was from Acquaviva, and I started to wonder myself.

What if my research had been wrong, and he was from somewhere else? I'd been treating Acquaviva as if it were a special place, but if my family wasn't really from there, it would lose the magic and just become another (still beautiful) small town in the countryside. I started to panic a little.

What if (gulp) Giovanni was actually from Milan?

Then I panicked a lot.

What if we were COMPLETELY wrong, and Giovanni was actually from (double gulp) FRANCE???!!!???


Then I realized that I was being ridiculous, my irrational fear could never be true just going by my love for salami and the large amount of hair beginning to sprout from my ears as I get older. Just kidding to all you Frenchies reading this, I'm sure you've heard it before though.

Anyway, as there was apparently no other option I resigned myself to being unsure about my relatives, and we thanked the clerk and left. Besides, Emily reminded me, we had been adopted by some Venturas!


We spent that evening hanging out with them, in fact. Costantino's son Mimmo took us all around the local area, he is a super nice guy and is into motorcycles too so we got along famously. Coincidentally, Mimmo had the exact same year, type, and even color of motorcycle that I have at home.

Even more coincidentally, when talking with Mimmo we told him that we knew about Acquaviva's red onions because we'd seen the stand at an October Slow Food event in Torino. We'd met the stand worker, and he apparently had a shop in town that we were planning on visiting. What would the name of the shop happen to be, Mimmo asked? Nardulli, we replied, after the owner Angelo Nardulli.

Turns out Mimmo was the godfather to Angelo's child.

But of course he was, how silly of us! Things are like that in southern Italy...everyone knows everyone, and it's all about who you know.

We paid Angelo a visit with Mimmo, he was quite shocked as well that the strange foodie Americans he met two months prior in a city 500 miles away were now in his hometown, with one of his best friends, who was now calling them family. Maybe he thought it was a hidden camera show or something.

Here's a pic of the three of us together outside of Angelo's shop. That's Mimmo in the middle:

After Mimmo brought us back, it was about dinnertime. As you can probably guess we didn't have to wonder about our plans that night...Rosa had called up some friends, and was taking us out to pizza with them!

We had a great time, enjoyed some delicious pizza and went out to an "American Bar" afterwards. Here's a pic of us with Rosa and her friend Paolo, and then another one of the rest of the group including Michele (in the middle) who would also come to visit us the following day...

Honestly, how could things have gotten any better? The next day, we found out.

Starting out the day at the Cheers-like cafe where the barista now knew our names (because we'd been there more than once), we chatted with him over cappuccini and brioche. He knew about our Ventura quest, and asked how it was going. Really, is there a better business strategy than actually getting to know and care about your customers?

But I digress. After saying our buongiornos, we headed next door to look at some shoes as replacements for the trusty black leather pair I'd brought that was now a little worse for wear after the carless Italian walk-a-thon that our life had become. The store was right across from the cathedral, smack dab in the historic center of town. Stepping in we immediately met the extremely gregarious owner, Gigi, who had a penchant for referring to himself in the 3rd person and was shamelessly flirtatious with Emily.

Gigi animatedly informed us that we were in the oldest calzolaio (cobbler) in Italy. Founded in 1885. Maybe true, maybe not, but trust me you don't argue with Gigi.

Regardless, I was thinking about something else, because I knew that Giovanni Ventura was born in about 1896. And if the shop was founded in 1885, it meant that I was in the cobbler where my great-grandfather probably bought his shoes (really, it's a pretty small place). How could I resist a pair of boots? Here I am modeling them, with Gigi at my side. I'm smiling pretty big here - Gigi had just glowingly pointed out to us a big picture on the wall of him, in a Speedo, holding out his arms in an embrace to the camera. He proudly exclaimed, "Ecco Gigi al mare!" (Here is Gigi at the beach!) And no, I'm not kidding...


Wasn't kidding about the shameless flirtaciousness, either...here's a pic he insisted on with Emily. Clearly he's happier than in the photo with me. I'm mildly suspicious he slipped her his phone number.


After the Gigi experience, it was almost lunchtime. But, as the comune was right next door (did I mention it's a small place?), we popped our heads in again to ask one more question about ol'great gramps Giovanni.

Boy, were we surprised. In what seemed to me like a scene out of a movie, the clerk upon seeing us gave a look not of what-is-it-now boredom, but rather of interest, confusion, surprise, and destiny all mixed together.

"I thought you'd left already. Wait here a second. After you left yesterday I did some additional research on your family."

Huh whaaat? You did what? You pored over the town's historical records on your own time, to search for more details on my relatives, just out of curiosity?

Yep, she sure did. Not entirely out of pure curiosity, we learned, as she at one point had thought there was a chance SHE was related to us. Turns out she'd had a Ventura in her family somewhere along the line, too, which at that point didn't surprise us.

We weren't related, she told me. Which she illustrated by pulling out a large paper upon which she had mapped out basically my entire Italian family tree. Names. Birthdates. Marriages. Immigration records. Deathdates. It was all there, and it was unbelievable. I got to see the original birth record of great-grandpa Giovanni, as it was recorded in the town's ledger in 1896. Can't really explain what a cool feeling that was.

Unfortunately, she couldn't let us have the paper, as she didn't want to compromise the confidentiality of the personal information. But after some sweet talking, she could see we were genuine and not some crazy American identity thieves. So she let me copy down much of the information, making sure I didn't write anything she deemed too private.

What she did let me take gave me enough to solidify some of the shaky details I had, like the birthdates of Giovanni's siblings. It was enough to let me know that there are some blood relatives in New Jersey, and to give me a basis for tracking them down. And it was enough to give me the name, and address, of a living relative in Acquaviva. Her house was just a few blocks away, in fact.

But, at this point, we had a serious problem...we were late for lunch with the Venturas! What to do? We thought about it, and decided that knocking on this woman's door out of the blue wasn't the best idea. We could write her a letter, and drop by on the next trip to Acquaviva (we'll surely be back). Besides, we didn't want to miss out on time with Costantino, Maria and the family.

Picking up a small gift, we hurried over to the house. Close to the historic center, casa Ventura is very charming. It was festively decorated for the holidays, one of the things Emily liked most was that they had used an olive branch hung with lights and ornaments as a Christmas tree.


As we entered the kitchen, our jaws dropped. Maria had outdone herself.

Once Rosa, Mimmo, and his girlfriend Antonia arrived, we sat down to an absolute feast. Everything was made from scratch, with the superb local Acquaviva ingredients.

We started off with bay-leaf marinated roasted figs stuffed with roasted almonds, and home cured olives from the Venturas' trees.



Then, we had a pasta dish - orrechiette (little ears) with a nice tomato sauce.


Involtini, or stuffed beef rolls, were next...


And then came, in my opinion, the piece de resistance, the freshest local fish fried over a wood fire in pure homemade olive oil.



That reminds me, though, that I forgot to mention the homemade foccacia, which had also been baked on the wood fire. Words don't do this foccacia justice...


I hope you can tell that we were absolutely stuffed by this point. But then, the apple cake came out. Fresh baked in the fire, too.


Now, during a normal meal, I can show some restraint. When I'm full, I'll politely refuse more, even when at someone's house.

But when the food is this incredibly delicious, when it's been so obviously prepared with love, when there is a whole table of new Italian family around cheering on my eating as if I were the star quarterback at the homecoming game, I'm powerless to resist.

I was like a goldfish in a bowl. The post-dessert fruit and walnuts almost made me go belly-up.



But honestly, it was one of the best and most special meals Emily have had. It was like Christmas/Thanksgiving, times 2, in Italian. I think you can see it on our faces:


After lunch we walked around a bit. Costantino, who is amazingly fit and knows EVERYBODY in Acquaviva, walked with us and took us to the cathedral. When we got there, it was the middle of a wedding. Costantino whispered a few words to a man standing on the side of the pews, and next thing we knew he was unlocking a big gate that led to the closed old sanctuary in an underground room. It was very impressive, especially the altar made of pure silver...




We spent the rest of the afternoon and early evening just experiencing Acquaviva, including one last visit to Lina to thank her and say goodbye. Walking around the labyrinth of stone streets winding among stone houses, it was easy to get a sense of how life had been there for hundreds of years. To the town's credit, in some ways it hasn't changed.

The local dialect, which is quite incomprehensible to outsiders, is preserved and in daily use even by the younger generation. You still see people cleaning bunches of wild chicory in the streets that they've foraged for in the countryside that day, and will sell at the following morning's market. The old men still gather in the town square each afternoon to debate politics. When people stop at the local cafe, or butcher, or florist, they greet the shop owner by name, and he asks about their family. Because he went to school with their father, and has known them since they were newborns. There's an incredible sense of community, as if the whole town isn't just a faceless sea of people, but is personally known to everyone in it.

To an outsider it can seem closed, and in fact sometimes it is. But through the graciousness of Teresa, Lina and the Venturas, we were able to experience it as if we belonged.

Although we'd only been there a short time, it was hard to leave Acquaviva. But we had tickets for a sleeper train leaving that night, and the Italian rail system waits for no man (or woman).

Being who they are, the Venturas wouldn't let us leave without one last meal - homemade panzerotti, cooked on the wood fire.


They sent us with a big bag of food, too, in case we got hungry on the train (!!!!)
I think really, Maria knows the power of her own cooking. Once you've tried it, you can't just go cold turkey without. We were able to smuggle most of it back to the US, including a bottle of homemade olive oil that awaits our most special salad occasions.


And with that, we said goodbye to the Venturas, who had driven us all the way to the Bari train platform, late at night, in the freezing cold (it snowed that night). They gave Emily a warm scarf, and waved to us from outside as we took our seats in the train compartment. Goodbye for now, at least - we'll definitely be seeing them again, hopefully sooner rather than later.

Ciao Costantino, Maria, Mimmo e Rosa!!! Buon Natale e Buon Anno! Grazie ancora per tutto, ci vediamo subito!!! Un bacio, e a presto.....