La Via per Cincinnati: Cristian Pietoso

Cristian Pietoso, born and raised in Florence, Italy came to Cincinnati for the same reason countless other immigrants have come before him.  He came because of family.

His father's people are "meridionale," from the south in Naples where a steady paycheck is not easy to find.  First one uncle relocated to St. Louis.  Then another.  Finally his father, Nicola, a graduate of the Culinary Institute of Florence, came to join them.  But the Italian community was so big in St. Louis that it was hard to stand out in the restaurant business.  When the owners of Verdin Bell called and offered an opportunity to start a new establishment in one of their empty buildings on Sycamore St. in Cincinnati, Nicola decided to take a chance.


After Cristian graduated from the same school where his father studied, it was only logical that he should join the family business in Ohio.  Soon after he took over the kitchen at Nicola's, word got around about the imaginative young chef.  Three years ago the Pietosos decided to expand their operation to include a more casual dining experience on Fountain Square named Via Vite (Vine Street) which features wood fired pizzas and the pasta bolognese that is so popular in Over the Rhine. The atmosphere may be hip, more American contemporary, but oceans cannot separate Italians from who they really are. "My grandma's peperonata," is one of  the side dishes on Cristian's menu:  sweet peppers, onions, and tomatoes, a taste of what his family left behind.

For those of us in the Queen City who appreciate great food prepared from the finest, freshest ingredients, where the pasta is never "mushy", we are lucky.  Italians don't like to move and they hate to change jobs so it looks like the Pietosos are here to stay.   Last year Cristian married Amanda, a local girl, and their daughter, Ilaria, was born in November. 

* * *

On Sunday, March 6th at 10am, Cristian has agreed to open Via Vite just for School Amici.  For two hours he will personally demonstrate how to prepare a traditional pasta cavolfiore (cauliflower), a special appetizer and tiramisu.  Then we get to eat!  Space is limited to 25 and we only have a few remaining seats, so if you'd like to join us, please register as soon as possible at School Amici

La Via per Cincinnati: Pietro Cassinadri

Lazio Region between Rome and Naples

La Via per Cincinnati

di Pietro Cassinadri

(English version follows Italian)

Erano anni magnifici. Incontrai Sharon sul lungomare a San Felice Circeo, il 7-7-67, dopo aver fatto una regata lo stesso giorno. Lei era di Dearborn, Michigan. Ritorno' a Natale, a poi l'anno dopo venne in Europa. Io andai alla scuola Sottufficiali della Guardia di Finanza, e poi fui mandato a Menaggio, Domaso, Valsolda, Ponte Tresa, Maccagno. Sharon continuava a trasferirsi seguendo i miei itinerari.

Ci sposammo nel 1972. In ottobre nostro figlio Silvio nacque a mori' nell'ospedale di Varese. Sharon era in fin di vita, a causa di un'emorragia. Dopo quattro o cinque ore di interventi, i dottori mi chiamarono nella sala operatoria, mi dissero che non c'era piu' niente da fare, mi offrirono un caffe', e se ne andarono. Un prete venne a darle l' Estrema Unzione. Poi anche lui se ne ando'. Lei era inconscia,  ed io li', a guardare la macchina respiratoria, aspettandomi che si fermasse da un momento all'altro.

Non so quanto tempo passo', ma continuavo ad accarrezzarle la testa, ed ad un certo punto le chiesi se volesse vivere ancora, e lei mosse la testa su e giu', vigorosamente. Allora mi misi a gridare: "E' ancora viva, e' ancora viva!" Le infermiere accorsero, e videro che il polso era ritornato!

San Felice Circeo (Latina)

Stette una settimana in cura intensiva, sempre incosciente, e quando rinvenne le dovetti dire che nostro figlio era morto, e che lei aveva subito l'isterectomia, necessaria per fermare l'emorragia dovuta ad un'infezione che non lasciava il sangue coagularsi. Lei mi guardo', disse che era tutto un brutto sogno, e ricadde in una specie di coma.

Eventualmente si riprese, e l'anno dopo decidemmo di andare in America. Per lei era un ritorno a casa, per me un passo verso l'ignoto. Arrivai in Detroit due giorni prima del Natale 1973. A quel punto ero brigadiere, ma negli USA non contava niente. Feci ogni tipo di lavoro, dal lavaggio notturno dei macchinari che fanno le patatine,  dall' imbianchino, al pavimentista. Nel frattempo continuavo gli studi; nel 1979 presi la laurea di Architettura all'Universita' del Michigan, e nel 1981 ottenni il Master. Dal 1981 in poi lavorai come architetto in Indiana, Kentucky ed Ohio. Nel 1990 incominciai a lavorare per l'Universita' di Cincinnati, che stava costruendo un campus spettacolare.

Sharon  mori' nel 1991 a Cincinnati.  Come lei voleva, sparsi le sue ceneri sul mare a San Felice Circeo, vicino  al posto dove ci incontrammo.

Io sono ancora qui.

The Road to Cincinnati

by Pietro Cassinadri

San Felice Circeo (Latina)

They were wonderful years. I met Sharon on the promenade in San Felice Circeo, on July 7, 1967, after a rowing race on that same day. She was from Dearborn, Michigan. She left and returned for Christmas, and a year later she came to Europe. I was an officer attending school in the army (Guardia di Finanza); then I was transferred from town to town (Menaggio, Domaso Valsolda, Ponte Tresa, Maccagno). Sharon kept on following me according to my itineraries.

We got married in 1972. In October, our son Silvio was born and died in the hospital in Varese. Sharon was in very critical conditions due to bleeding. After four or five hours of life saving attempts, the doctors called me into the operating room; they said there was nothing else to do, offered me a coffee and left. A priest came to give her the last rites and left too. She was there, unconscious, and I was watching the breathing machine, expecting to stop at any moment.

I do not know how much time elapsed, but I kept caressing her head, and at one point I asked if she wanted to live; she moved her head up and down, vigorously. Then I began to shout: "She is still alive, still alive!" The nurses came running and realized that her pulse was back!

She remained a week in intensive care, still unconscious, and when she recovered consciousness I had to tell her that our son was dead, and that she had undergone hysterectomy, which was necessary to stop the bleeding due to an infection that did not allow the blood to clot. She looked at me and said that it was just a bad dream, and fell into a sort of coma.

Pietro and Sharon, Rome, 1970

Eventually she recovered, and the year after we decided to go to America. For her it was a homecoming; for me a step into the unknown. I arrived in Detroit two days before Christmas of 1973.

At that point I was a sergeant, but in the U.S. I was nothing. I worked any kind of job, from washing machines used to make chips at night to wall painter to floor maker. In the meanwhile I kept on studying; in 1979 I graduated as an architect from University of Michigan, and in 1981 I obtained the Master Degree.

From 1981 onwards I worked as an architect in Indiana, Kentucky and Ohio. In 1990 I started working for the University of Cincinnati, which was building a spectacular campus.

Sharon died in 1991 in Cincinnati. As she wished, I scattered her ashes on the sea in San Felice Circeo, near the place where we met.

I am still here.

An internet tip from Melinda Cebula Harris, School Amici student

Melinda

Intermediate Student

Check this out. This website has dual language articles to check your comprehension. It also has the article in audio version so you can listen while you read, or read while you listen ;)
http://www.italymag.co.uk/italy/topic/dual-language

Dual Language | ITALY Magazine

http://www.italymag.co.uk/

The Dual Language Section is an ideal approach for anyone that aims to cross-cultural competence and biliteracy. The articles are often set in real locations, describing trips or cultural goings-on, ideal to discover something more about Italian culture besides the language.

Wine of the Month: Cantina Pedres

 by Marty Piazza

     In America we have wine publications like the Wine Spectator and The Wine Advocate which, among other activities, rate various wines from around the world.  Great ratings from these publications can significantly increase American demand for the wines winning the highest praise.  In Italy they have Gambero Rosso, which is similar to our Wine Spectator.  Every year this organization ranks hundreds of Italian wines, with the best (according to these judges, at least) receiving one, two, or three “glasses.”  The most prestigious rating is the coveted “Tre Bicchieri” (Three Glasses).  The majority of the wines winning Tre Bicchieri can be quite expensive.  But every now and then an inexpensive wines show up on the list, and these are the ones that really capture my attention.  The wine we will look at today is one of these: Vermentino di Gallura 2009 Thilibas from Cantina Pedres in Sardegna.

     The grape Vermentino is grown predominantly in Sardegna and Liguria, with a little spilling over into Tuscany.  The appellation Vermentino di Gallura is the only DOCG appellation in all of Sardegna, and the whites from this zone are some of the most enjoyable of Italy.  Our wine from Cantina Pedres is 100% Vermentino, made in stainless steel (sees no oak), has a golden yellow color, medium body, and dry but fruity flavors of tangy apple, nectarine, herb, and mineral.  The acidity and tartness make it a great food wine, particularly with scallops and other sea food.   

     We are lucky to be able to get this wine in Ohio, because the importer, who lives in Sandusky Ohio, is married to one of the owners in Sardegna.  They are a wonderful couple, and they do welcome visitors to their winery, if you should one day find youself in Sardegna.  At $16.99/bottle, I think it is one of the most enjoyable wines you will ever discover at anywhere near the price.  And yes, I do think it merits a “Tre Bicchieri” rating.  

Enjoy.  Marty.

Wine of the Month is written by Marty Piazza, the regional expert on Italian wines at Piazza Discepoli.  Marty leads the discussion for School Amici's popular Salute! class and tasting, which will be offered again in May.

52 Seconds or 5 Minutes? Time to Celebrate!

Here we are in Catania for New Year's Eve last year. 2 versions, one for busy, important people, and the longer one for everybody who got tired and went to bed before midnight last night.

If you watch the uncut piece on top, note the high-pitched, nervous squeals in the background after the countdown. I'm pretty sure it's me. Since I'd always spent the new year at Michele's mom's I didn't know about the tradition of breaking the empty champagne bottles in the middle of the piazza. I thought we were being bombed.

Buon Anno a Tutti.

Don't forget Baby Jesus!

A few months ago Michele and I moved to a hip urban condo that's less than half the size of our old house. Every possession had to be carefully reconsidered. When all the boxes were finally packed, Christmas decorations that used to take me two hours just to get down from the attic had been consolidated to a handful of items.

But there was never any question about the presepio Michele's father made for the family when Fabio and Arianna were very young. He hammered natural sticks together to represent the stable and hand painted china figures of Mary and Joseph, a couple of shepherds, the cow and the donkey that watch patiently over the empty crib of tin foil every year. It is Arianna's job as the youngest child to place the little plastic baby on Christmas eve. When we put the presepio out this time, our new apartment really felt like home.

Unfortunately it turned out that we had to be more flexible than we would like with our traditions. My father-in-law is very, very sick and I dropped Michele at the airport on Tuesday so he could be in Naples for a time of year that is always special to Italian families, but this year even more so. Before my husband left he put the baby in the manger early, afraid that an Americana on her own would forget and mess things up.

Tomorrow Fabio and Arianna and I will host the Christmas dinner for the members of our family who live on this side of the Atlantic. My 28 year-old-daughter is opening presents with her best friend from the naval base in Sicily. But we will all be thinking of the ones we love in Naples and good times we've shared in years past.

This is a video from our trip last year at Christmas time. The presepio in Caltagirone, a charming hill town in the middle of Sicily known for its ceramics, is probably the most elaborate in the entire country.

The Best Present Michele Never Gave Me

During the holiday season a lot of conversations with my female friends center on the burden of shopping for gifts.  Our obligations  have spread with American affluence and the ready availability of personal credit.  Now we are expected to exchange remembrances with professional colleagues, fellow book club members, the mailman, the hair dresser, and our neighbors.  Tonight Michele and I are invited to a dinner with casual acquaintances we haven't seen for over a year and the focal point of the evening is the ubiquitous White Elephant event where everybody re-gifts gifts they didn't like the first time around, as if once wasn't bad enough.  Ho-ho-ho.

I was part of that mentality once, the one that implies that caring is measured by yards of ribbon and wrapping paper.  But that was before February 14, 2002.


It was our second St. Valentine's Day as a couple. I tracked down a baby-sitter for the kids and made reservations for the Cincinnati Zoo's annual event on animal mating rituals, which I thought would interest my science-oriented husband.  That day I bought heart-shaped cupcake pans, and spent the afternoon personalizing each little cake in confectioner's sugar.  Then I constructed a lovely display with Valentine cards and small wrapped gifts to show my new family how much I loved them and that there was no limit to what I was willing to do to show it.

Michele walked in the door a few minutes after I finished, took one look, and said, "Oh, I didn't know we were celebrating."

Anger is not an emotion that is encouraged in Midwestern America.  So it took a while for me to register exactly how furious I was.  But I figured it out somewhere between the nocturnal house and the hot fudge sundaes.  I had gone to a lot of trouble.  I'd done the wash and cooked the dinners and attended too many g-rated movies to count.  And Michele hadn't even bought me a card.

He tried to take me out to dinner to make it up to me.  But my meal tasted like sand.  I walked home in the rain by myself, Michele driving slowly along the curb until he finally gave up and went ahead to relieve our baby-sitter.

The next morning I woke up.  I realized I had a choice.  I could either badger Michele into doing holidays the way we'd always done them in my family with twenty packages on the mantel for every celebration, so many of them they were almost always forgotten in relatively short-order.  Or I could convert to the way Michele was brought up, where presents were not demands but intensely special exchanges to be treasured on the rare and unexpected occasions they occurred.  When I thought about how much time and energy I'd invested in the gift of giving over the years, the weight of which always seems to tip more heavily on the responsibilities of women, I realized it was a contest I would never, ever win.

Now Michele and I go out to dinner to celebrate.  Sometimes we get each other cards.  Sometimes we don't.  This year we've bought a new house and I got to furnish it the way I want, so there's not one more thing I want for Christmas.  Really.  But I got Michele a few items he'd never buy for himself.  To all my neighbors, friends, and the lady who cuts my hair, I promise not to get you anything if you do the same for me.  Time together, freely given, is enough, don't you think?

Some day, if we're lucky, maybe one of us will get a present like the one Michele got from his mother when he was a teenager and there wasn't a lot of money for extras.  He wanted a transistor radio to listen to the Top 40 program, and the family didn't have one.  When she finally gave it to him six months after he mentioned it, it wasn't wrapped.  They were sitting on the edge of her bed and she handed him the small orange appliance, an event so special he remembers it like it was yesterday, the tone of his voice almost reverential as he describes it.

Real presents aren't duties or party tricks.  They come from one heart to another without expectation.



Buon Natale a Tutti.

Flashcards: 21 Century Style

In a few minutes I'm leaving to catch the bus for the airport.   But before I go I thought I'd point out the intersection of modern technology and my best intentions for reviewing Italian while I'm away - without the books or the big dictionary.

 I have an Ipod Touch.  Most everybody else I know has one of those fancy Blackberry phones or an Ipad.  Yesterday I downloaded the 24/7 Tutor for free.  It's got quizzes and games and an audio component for words that are hard to pronounce.

The Game of Cheap

A few months after I fell in love with Michele I decided to quit my job.  My timing was based on two important factors:  My "fidanzato" was a night person and I could not show up for normal American business hours with a clear head.   But more importantly I'd met someone who could teach me how to be happy without spending a lot of money, an area in which Southern Italians have a great deal of expertise.

Last summer we toured the most famous spots around Cinque Terre on the Italian Riviera, an area that attracts tourists from all over the world.  We were staying at a friend's house in Camogli and could use the kitchen, but every day we'd take the train to yet another charming town by the sea:  Portofino, Santa Margherita Ligure, or Riomaggiore at the end of the Cinque Terre walking path.  That's when we adapted The Game of Cheap (which is the normal way we live) to find the best places to eat.

The Rules

1.  Great food.
2.  Charming location. 
3.  A ridiculously low price.  
4.  Table service.
5.  Preferably with a tablecloth.

After a little bit of practice, we got to be pretty good at spotting bargains at lunchtime. The secret was to get away from the sea and off the main streets.  Normally these places aren't the ones with outdoor seating on the piazza.  The common denominator of our best "finds" was a hand-lettered sign with very little English.

The fancy menu at the top was in Santa Margherita, known for its handmade lace and a harbor full of yachts.  This restaurant offered a meat choice for 13 Euro (about $18) or a fish choice for 17 Euro.  That included the primo (pasta course), secondo (meat or fish with vegetable side dish), water, wine, and coffee.  The food was fantastic.  We had to wait for a table and nobody spoke English.  Even though we were stuffed afterward, we couldn't resist dessert from an incredible bakery down the street with the most beautiful display window we'd ever seen..

The second menu was in Genova, Christopher Columbus' hometown.  In the middle of the maze of alleys in the oldest part of of the city we found this gem for 10 Euros each, all inclusive:  3 choices for primo, 3 choices for secondo, wine and water.  Once again, the food was amazing and we were the only tourists there.

Of course, pizza is always a good alternative for a lost-cost meal.  But most pizzerias don't fire up the oven until they open for dinner in the evening.  If you're scouting around at lunch, make sure you find a place like this restaurant where the pizzeria is "aperta anche a mezzogiorno" (also open at noon).

Outstanding food is not difficult to find in a country known for excellent cuisine.  But the sport lies in the ability to ferret out memorable culinary experiences without wincing when you open the Visa bill after you arrive home.  Once you get the hang of it, it's hard to lose in The Game of Cheap.

36 Hours in Rome

 It's rainy and cold in the Midwest, time to do a little armchair traveling and add to the list of not-to-be-missed places for the next time you're in Italy.

I love this six-minute video from last month's New York Times, 36 Hours in Rome.  It's always fun to see places I've been before, but after six or seven visits to the Eternal City I was surprised by all of the new ideas  (like the contemporary art museum designed by the same architect who did our building in Cincinnati!!!  I can't wait.).  There are lots of interviews with native speakers sprinkled throughout the piece and if you close your eyes you'll almost feel like you're really there, especially if you don't read the English subtitles.  How's that listening comprehension coming along?

Buon Viaggio a Tutti.