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Slightly cooler and ever so much nicer in Parma
It’s a mercifully cooler day here in Parma, and I’m sitting with my windows boldly open at 11.30 in the morning, fans off, enjoying a breeze. I can honestly say that’s a sentence I haven’t been able to write for months, and I’m grateful to be able to do it now.
Last night we had another farewell gathering: they get smaller and smaller as people take off for their summers ‘n stages. About half a dozen of us were having a glass of wine together around 9pm when our chairs began to shake gently. We’d been talking about fast food, and although at first we suspected it was the Wrath of Carlini, we swiftly arrived at the conclusion we’d just experienced a mild earthquake (measuring 4.6, as it happens).
Oddly enough, I had been reading only on Sunday in my guidebook which told me that Parma’s duomo was
“erected on the present site by heretic bishop Cadalus, who later became antipope Honorius II, but was destroyed by the violent earthquake of 1117 that shook the whole Po valley and left only parts of the apses standing.”
We finished our glasses and headed into a breezy, almost chilly, evening and washed up at Sorelle Picchi, where I’d had my lunch, and this time ordered a big bowl of cappelletti in brodo, which were absolutely delicious.
While we were waiting for our food, we saw a man who’d stopped us on the street to ask if we’d felt the earthquake. He was in his seventies, I’d guess, and had his white table napkin draped around his neck: he and his wife, who hovered in the background, had been eating supper in their fourth floor apartment when they felt the vibrations and fled into the street, thinking Parma must be at the epicentre of some awful disaster, and were too afraid to go back inside. He paced up and down stopping everyone – passers-by, tourists, policemen – looking for some kind of reassurance. he disappeared eventually, but I saw him out on the street again this morning, still anxious but lacking his napkin.
Meanwhile I was spending some time today looking at YouTube videos and happened upon one for Unisg. It starts off well but then gets a little draggy with fuzzy tourist shots of Delhi and chops off suddenly at the end. But it was a delightful surprise:
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A small gastro-tour
I’d visited Tribunale on Friday, though it has since closed for hols, and had a very tasty and interesting insalata rustica, made with warm cooked onions, slightly pickled, and pancetta.
Tammy and Sue came to visit on the weekend and we did our best to eat our way through the local offerings – what was left of them, as many places have already shut for summer holidays. We were enticed into Osteria del Gesso by fond memories, air conditioning (it was 38 degrees on Friday) and an “open” sign. Always good and often unusual food. Here’s my starter which was a salad of strips of something from the octopus family on a bed of farro (aka spelt or, I have read, more accurately emmer)
Next course for me was a nice bit of lamb with an apple marmelade. My companions had excellent tortelli di erbette – some of the best I’ve tasted.
Ombre Rosse has often served the uni crowd well; it seems to be open when all else is closed, and its 1,500 item wine list is entertaining reading. They have an unusual menu, from which I chose the quail salad with peaches and foie gras – an odd but pleasing combination:
Gatta Matta is always excellent, and we had some wonderful food there. I’ve become a huge fan of tepid octopus salads, and got to have a bit of that here
followed by some lovely steak
and some very boozy zabaglione – I think they’d emptied the Marsala bottle into it (and the effect was not unpleasant, though perhaps I didn’t need a delightful glass of passito on top) served with some excellent quaresimale (almond biscotti)
We finished our weekend with a second lunch at Sorelle Picchi, where my visitors made sure that the tortelli di zucca was in fact as delicious the second time as it had been the first (it was), and I had the triple-barrelled combination of tortelli – zucca, erbette and patate con funghi. All excellent. We washed it down with some inky cold frothy lambrusco. As you do.
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We can’t believe…
How did it happen? A year flits by and all of a sudden it’s tearful farewells and no more pig farms, Unisg cheers, bus rides, charter airlines, wine tastings… how will we cope in the months to come?
The final week shaped up kind of like last week’s, commencing with an exam and then moving swiftly through food marketing, journalism and a great big party. We had lunch on a riverboat on the Po
(photo from Andy)with Carlo Petrini and our university staff and dignitaries.
After the food we had a little wisdom from the brow of Petrini,
and then some goofy awards and another gem of a slideshow (so there WAS a reason for taking those – must be literally millions of frames – cameras everywhere we turned all year) by our animators Don and Marta.
Next stop was Polesine Parmense, where we revisited the scene of last winter’s visit when we learned about culatello di zibello.
(Photo from Andy)We were attending the annual Spigaroli Awards (to local food heroes of various kinds) at the beautifully refurbished Antica Corte Pallavicina, which was about half finished on our last visit. It’s now ready to roll as a swanky agriturismo for visitors who want a short and scenic walk to their dinner at Al Cavallino Bianco.
But on Wednesday tables had been set up around the perimeter of the courtyard and the Spigaroli brothers, Massimo and Luciano, were busy seeing to the comfort of their hundreds of guests. The hay bale corral in the middle holds a flock of black piglets who made up part of the award, one for each recipient: the Spigarolis would raise, slaughter and cure them, so the prize – in good Slow Food form – would be years in the making. We had some wonderful culatello, of course, including two kinds made from white and black pigs, each culatello aged 36 months.
And a wonderful tortelli in brodo with some exquisite cheese filled pastas in a light and warming broth – bliss to be in the cooling air eating such things. Fortified, the guests then enjoyed the awards ceremony, which included a special prize for Carlo Petrini.
And then it was the last couple of classes – marketing and wine tasting from Matteo Baldi, journalism from Clodagh McKenna, the last lunch together,
the last bus home,
the last visit to Tabarro,
rounds of signings (our brand new copies of Slow Food Nation, serving as school autograph albums)
and some emotional farewells…
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In her latest collection, Rhona McAdam navigates the dark places of human movement through the earth and the exquisite intricacies lingering in backyard gardens and farmlands populated by insects and pollinators, all the while returning to the body, to the tune of staccato beats and the newly discovered symmetries within the human heart.
“…A beautiful, filling collection, Larder is a set of poems to read at the change of the seasons, to appreciate alongside a good meal, and to remind yourself of the beauty in everything, even the things you may not appreciate before opening McAdam’s collection….”
Rhona McAdam is a writer, poet, editor, and Registered Holistic Nutritionist with a Master’s in Food Culture from Italy and a deep-rooted passion for ecology and urban agriculture. Her work spans corporate and technical writing to poetry and creative nonfiction, often exploring the vital links between what we eat and how we live. Based in Victoria, BC, and available via Zoom, Rhona is always open to new writing commissions, readings, or workshops on nutrition and the culinary arts.
