A Poem for Laura

Often we receive praise in our guestbook, or compliments in person. Every so often Gianluca even gets a marriage proposal. This morning I read this e-mail that was sent by a current guest to Laura after eating the previous night in the cafe. It’s a sort of poem, an ode to a great food experience:

It being a great Italian habit, and love,
Eating is to be appreciated, Savored, Dramatized,
with love, with fondness, with warmth, with friends.

I am on my own,
boohoohoo.
I am alone, with myself, and my book, and my ability to chat.

Laura is the chef de cochine, and I am the excited novice,
coming to taste of her expertise, her company, and her love of cooking.
She spent time in Minneapolis, Minnesota, U.S.A.
and I am understanding, there is therefore a certain seriousness,
in the style and the way of cooking.
But also a simplicity, that I always respond well to.
A country, no-nonsense attitude, that augers well for me.

The restaurant tonight is quiet, which I am told happens occasionally.
Lunch though was busy.
This Hotel, The Beehive, Via Marghera 8,
has 6 rooms only, with a dormitorio for the less well heeled.
Opens its doors to the public, and has a steady Clientele, apart from the guests/residents.

So first, I tell you now,
This place uses organic and naturally grown products,
No supermarket grown produce here.
I can attest to the quality of produce and the inspiring tastefulness
of all the food, I partook in eating.
Delicious, and I know, Nero Cesare Himself would be envying Laura’s cooking.
if He were about.

Second, I tell you,
the bill presented, is a suggestion.
If you wish to add to it, you can,
and if you wish to detract, well,
I for one,
would not want to be a friend of yours.
Meanness has its place in HELL,
not in this kitchen.

I started,with a glass of not so full bodied
red wine, vin de table, very drinkable.
And presented with a plate of delicious toasted walnut bread,
and plenty of it,
a red bean collation,
an avocado with lemon pulp,
and a baba ganouche with mint.

Followed by more of this home-made scrumptious bread,
liberally sprinkled with olive oil that awakes the dead,
and some Rustici, which are puff-pastry rounds,
small enough to consume in two Burnett-bites,
which had sage and cheese stuffing,

Enough in itself, I can assure you,for a small meal.
With another drink of your choice,
this in itself constitutes the Happy Hour !!

The chat with Laura, being 90, we decided to ask Her, to decide on my first course.
I feel that she could respond to my desire,
because She listens and,,,,,,,,understands.
The palate must be stimulated, if it is to appreciate. The joy there-of.

I was well rewarded for my confidence.
A plate arrived with a Savory pie……egg and spinach, that would make you fly,
a side salad garnish, of fresh spinach leaves with shavings of Reggiano cheese,
red cabbage, sliced thinly carrots, pine nuts aplenty, diced fried potatoes, nice and crisp.
and sliced mushrooms in a vinaigrette, that would excite a most weary palate

I was spoiled in this kitchen.
I was.

And to be sure, to be sure,
I decided on the next course, to be Laura’s decision, yet again.
Something to compliment, and to complement, the first two dishes.

The freshly made Ravioli, with with spinach and ricotta, served with butter and sage,and some grated Parmesan.

Oh the joy of it, oh the smell of it, fills my heart to tears !!
Was there ever a more al dente dish, ?
was there ever a more firm ravioli ?
was there ever a more proud dish served before the greatest ?

Desire of good food can lead to gluttony, I am told.
But I think I prefer the ideas of The Epicureans.
This restaurant does not aspire to over indulge the appetites,
It is here to satisfy them with simplicity, goodness and most of all QUALITY.

Too many “good” restaurants serve ravioli with a cream ?? sauce, that runs out on cutting open.
Too many serve standard “ITALIAN ” fare, most of it out of a package, or tin.

Let me tell you now, this was stupendous.
Mouth-watering.
Plenty for a hungry Burnett.

To finish, I had another glass of red wine,
and I knew that all was well with our world.

Let me say, Laura, and the people here, at the BEEHIVE, have a very simple attitude, that belies so many.
Service, quality, natural products, home-cooking, service, and quality, and Quality, again and again.
Long may they continue.

And for many, those who would ask,
the bill presented, was ………………………….20 Irish Euro
remember hell, dear friends, remember Hell !!

Le Mise

Burnett

Inspector P’s Peach Crumble

Just before Passo Corese, heading south on via Salaria from Rieti there’s an enlarged shoulder on the left hand side with 3 or 4 local fruit/vegetable vendors. On the way home we bought a 10 euro crate of some of the best white-flesh peaches I’ve ever tasted. Even after eating a handful of peaches every day, we still had a bowl full in the fridge that was starting to get too soft. So Paloma and I set out to make something sweet with them.

First we cut all the peaches and Paloma tossed them in a pie dish. I splashed some white wine and lemon juice on it to bring out the flavor and then we mixed a crumble topping made of flour, raw sugar, brown sugar, some mashed almonds, cinnamon and butter. We smushed the topping on and tossed it in the oven and then went to play with a new “Crime Scene Inspector Kit” that she received as a belated birthday present. As the crumble baked we put fingerprints on glasses and then dusted and removed them, placing the new fingerprints in special baggies marked “evidence” that could be compared with a magnifying glass. We taped off the dining room table as a crime scene while Paloma continued to play Inspector and gather enough evidence to prove that her sister Giulia had drank her juice even though she claimed not to.

I could smell the pie. It looked particularly good and so I asked Paloma to help me remember what we’d put in and write it out as a recipe so we could reproduce it. The following is the recipe in Inspector P’s secret code:

Giulia the baker

I make bread every few days at home - usually a loaf of mixed flours and oats and seeds that I have for breakfast and Linda has with jam and a cappuccino freddo around 3-4pm. Yesterday, in addition to this, I decided to make some focaccia with herbs from our garden as I’d made some earlier in the day at the Beehive that turned out rather well and wanted some more for home. Giulia, who had made pizza once on a school trip to Umbria, asked, after watching me a while, “Daddy, when can I make my own bread?”

We decided for her first attempt she should make some small panini al latte like they sell at the Gentilini bakery nearby that are rich and kind of sweet and nice for little sandwiches. Without a recipe I told her approximately how much white flour, yeast, salt and milk to mix together and without touching it all I guided her through it. Since she’s seen me make bread many times, she didn’t seem to have much trouble following the process. She mixed in enough liquid until it pulled away from the bowl, kneaded it smooth and covered it with a dish towel and let it rise. A few hours later we all rolled them into little balls and put them in the oven.

All in all they turned out pretty close to what we were looking for. They’re soft and rich inside but perhaps too dry of a crust. I figure some oil should prevent a thick crust from forming. For a first try it was pretty impressive though. I hope when she’s older she’ll remember making bread with her dad and will do it confidently for herself on a regular basis.