Category Archives: Rome

Food Memories: Blood Oranges

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Back in the spring of 2007, I was living in a convent in Rome. The sisters who ran it leased out the rooms and provided meals for the short- and long-term guests that stayed there. Despite Italy’s culinary reputation, the food that was served could merely be said to sate hunger pangs—it was not food that could be particularly enjoyed. Sometimes, it could not even be eaten.

However, there was an orchard next to the property that the sisters tended. The fruit often made its way to our table, the highlight of otherwise dreary meals. Shortly after my arrival, blood orange season began. Having never before tasted its sweet, subtly complex, dark flesh, I quickly became addicted, often consuming entire meals of nothing else (obviously in addition to the large quantities of cornetti, cappuccini, and other delicious foods I ate when not at the convent).

Photo courtesy of Mike’s Table

 
After several weeks, I began to notice a discoloration of my skin around my joints—a slightly orange tinge to my knuckles, elbows, and the web of skin between my fingers. Horrified when I showed her, my Italian mamma Maria Teresa insisted that I visit the doctor, convinced I had contracted some sort of fungal disease. We went for a visit to have my hands examined. The kindly doctor looked at me with a smile and quietly asked, have you been eating too much beta carotene? He then extended his hand, 30 Euro for the consultation.

Once I had calmed down after feeling swindled, I began to reduce my blood orange intake, and the color began to fade to a memory. Since coming back to the US, I have rarely seen a blood orange at the store, let alone eaten as many as I did in those few months. This winter, however, they showed up again in my life, with all of my favorite grocers stock-piling them high on their shelves, and with prices continually decreasing throughout the season, I scooped them up, eating as many as I could each day.

I’ve so far made it through without turning orange as they slowly begin to disappear from the produce aisles, now experiencing a sadness to see them go. I have, however, found one more opportunity to indulge my obsession—blood orange juice. Sold at Marlow & Daughters down the street from me, it unfortunately  commands too high of a price to be a sustainable part of my diet until the season truly ends for the year. So, I plan to enjoy this last taste as I ready myself for next year’s deluge.

Jansal Valley Blood Orange Juice

a trastevere favorite “frittata di spinaci,” new york style

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So it appears as though I’ve been on sabbatical–from writing, not eating. Between working and traveling, I’ve had little time to sit down to write an entire blog. In fact, I haven’t even had time to go to the grocery store, which is saying something as not only is it one of my favorite past-times but there is one directly under my house. Last night, the almost-empty fridge led me to scrounge around the reserves, and I ended up making a very Roman dish (the Romans are, after all, known for there use of gli scarti, leftovers or more specifically offal).

I pulled out the egg carton, with its blaring expiration date for the following day, and set out the three remaining eggs to bring them to room temp. Then, I looked in the freezer and pulled out the lone package of frozen spinach, left over from when Giorgio’s mom restocked our kitchen in August. After heating water in the steamer, I placed the green block in the pot to speed up the thawing process (I hate boiling vegetables when not making a broth, as the nutrients remain in the water). As the ice melted, I began to grate the little parmigiano that we had left on the rind and added a bit of pecorino romano.

In a pan, I sauteed a few shallots that were hanging around (I didn’t even have a real onion!) and a few cloves of garlic. I beat the three eggs in a bowl, added s&p, the cheeses, and the spinach, after dousing it in ice water and squeezing out the liquid. All of it went into the pan together, and since there weren’t enough eggs to make a real frittata, I ended up making more of a spinach scramble. I threw a few hamburger buns under the broiler as we set the table. We sat down at the table, and after pouring the last drops of a bottle of Picco del Sole Cannonau (a miracle of a $12 Sardinian red wine that goes with everything, from fish to pork to the night’s eggs), we dug in. The meal was short, but oh-so-sweet…sometimes, as they say in Italy, the simplest things are best.

Now, I just have to go restock.