Riley Fitting – Peace Corps Volunteer

I had the supreme pleasure of meeting Riley on my visit to Ranch at Rock Creek last year – he was my expert fly fishing guide. http://www.gwenbooks.com/category/forbes-five-star-lodge/

Meandering the stream banks with Riley, guaranteed my fishing success! During our conversations, he confided that he was leaving soon for South Africa to become a Peace Corp Volunteer – he wants to help eradicate Aids in Africa.

Riley is surviving the challenges of living in Jane Furse, Limpopo province, South Africa.  He has been there for 8 months, and leaves in March 2018.

I subscribe to his blog posts and am always so impressed with his endeavor and his descriptive colorful interpretation of his life – working to help others. Latest post is below.

Riley, you are my hero!

God gave Noah the rainbow sign, no more water, the fire next time~

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Well, yesterday was hot, like it was next time.  But today was cold, a cold whose wind sears through your yesterday’s tank top and sandals and tightens your skin.  Catching you off guard and unprepared, making you wonder, ‘Damn, why is it so cold today? Whats happening, am I not in Africa?’  A cold that can only be described as, ‘Africa Cold.’

A cold like early fall in Montana.  After too many days of an Indian summer, with nothing but midges and pseudos and overwhelming terrestrial patterns left on the luke-warm rivers.  When the first blue-winged olives hatch and a single Hecuba ignites the ancient instinct of cutthroat that must have been painted in heaven.  A cold like a perfect day of fall fly fishing in Montana.

Today I wished I was back in Montana.

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A week ago I sat on a couple cinder blocks, stacked the best way I could stack them to have an even seat.  I ripped a grease stained Roman’s Pizza box in half and gave the top to my friend so we could both have a cushion and keep our pants clean.  We sat on our blocks and talked about our histories and current lives.  We were on the side of the street just outside his cement Lego-block of a shop where he fixes cellphones and sells electronic accessories. Two sketchy, visibly neglected young men with hollow faces, shaky legs, holey clothes and tiny shoes approached us and tried to sell us ‘cool-times.’  They had clearly bought them in the grocery store at the crossing and were trying to flip them quick to a white guy and his ‘must-also-be-rich’ friend.  They were dumb, high and clumsy and my friend wasn’t going to entertain them so he shooed them away.  “Nyaope guys,” we both sighed to each other after they spun across the street.

You know? you’re not going to be able to change them, brotha..

I know, you want me to stop trying?

No, I don’t mean stop trying… but seriously, why are you even trying?

I’m trying so that maybe their parents or siblings or children can see that I’m trying, and maybe get some hope or assurance that somebody in this damn town cares about them.

Ok, brotha, I get you..

Why shouldn’t I beat the rot of homesickness and throw myself at impossible challenges?  Challenges that people talk about, but nobody does anything.  Why can’t I want to be the next Gandhi?  If we do not dare everything, to change the world, whose to say that old slave song about ‘the great flood’ is only a child’s warning?

Today I choose Jane Furse over Montana.  I choose this place not unlike millions of other stuck, miserable hoods overtaken by taverns and drugs, exhaust fumes and burning garbage heaps.  Invaded by low-level thieves and professional crooks.  Called home by smart and beautiful people who keep tidy yards and cleaner consciences.  Played in and laughed in by innocent children who think all schools and soccer fields are surrounded by razor-link fence and broken glass.  Sure, I could choose Montana and help people there too, I like to think I used to.  But if I’m going to dare everything, how could I?

How could I escape with privilege back into comfort, possibilities and freedom?  Back into a life which thinks that prevention most righteous.  A life that is twisted into prioritizing unknown lives as if it is possible.  If I’ve affirmed any belief of mine, it is that people are people no matter where they are, we all do the best we can with what we have, and none of us are equal.  How could I leave?  When others cannot.

Brotha, I’ve lived here a long time and.. you really care too much about this place.

Do I care too much? How could I care too much about people, man?

I don’t know, but you’re going to get to let down.

Yeah? I’ll feel that when it happens, I’m going home man, see you tomorrow.

 

Dishes to Die For – Anna Tasca Lanza Cooking Sicily

Rolling Sicilian Hillsides

I spent a week at the famed Anna Tasca Lanza Cooking School in Sicily this summer. Fabrizia Lanza continues the rich heritage of her mother’s garden to table instruction in a venerable stone farmhouse amid rolling hills of wheat, ancient olive trees and rows and rows of manicured grape vines.

Cooking with David Tanis

David Tanis, a friend and more importantly, chef at Chez Panisse for 25 years, cookbook author and a weekly NY Times columnist was teaching in Fabrizia’s kitchen, who could resist? http://cooking.nytimes.com/64537581-david-tanis/my-recipes

I love David’s Summer Pasta recipe – have prepared it several times!

All about food in Sicily!

Sicily is the largest island in the Mediterranean and thus a combination of its size, the classes and the July heat – I didn’t explore much of the island – a reason to return. We were driven two hours south east from Palermo to Case Vecchie, the Tasca 200-year-old family property, consisting of 1300 acres of vineyards in the verdant hills near the village of Vallelunga Pratameno, blink and you miss it.

The grainy industrial outskirts of Palermo quickly changed to golden rolling hills of wheat, as far as you could see, the neatly rolled bales dotted the hillsides. After an hour or so, the terrain gradually shifted to a deep green, just as the hills had been dotted with haystacks, now rows and rows of tended grape vines consumed the entire horizon. The Sicilians use every inch of land for rich crops or grazing, similar to their cooking customs, nothing goes to waste.

Anna Tasca Lanza Cooking School

Fresh Peaches

The setting is divine – cooking with fresh vegetables from Fabrizia’s garden every day with supplemental explorations to the local Fish Market in Catania or the local sheep herder for daily freshly churned cheese. Life is lived and food is prepared as it has been for centuries, traditional recipes with farm to table ingredients. Sublime.

A few scrumptious recipes from my class.

Look for Fabrizia’s cookbook – Coming Home To Sicily: Seasonal Harvests and Cooking from Case Vecchie

http://annatascalanza.com/index.php/en/gallery/recipes

Eggplant Caponata

Serves 8 to 10

1 kilo (2.2 pounds) eggplants, peeled and cut into 1-inch cubes
Oil, for frying
Salt
1 large onion, sliced lengthwise
1/4 cup (60 ml) olive oil
1 1/2 cups (375 ml) tomato sauce, plus more if necessary
1 bunch celery, tough outer ribs discarded, strings removed and coarsely sliced, then poached
3/4 to 1 cup (170 grams) green olives, pitted and cut into thirds
1/4 cup (40 grams) capers, rinsed and drained
1 tablespoon (15 grams) sugar, plus more to taste
1/4 cup (60 ml) wine vinegar
Hard-boiled eggs, peeled and halved, for garnish
Chopped parsley for garnish

Heat 1 inch of oil in a large sauté pan. Fry the eggplant pieces, a batch at a time, until browned. Drain well on paper towels. Season with salt.

Sauté the onion in the olive oil for about 5 minutes, until just golden. Add the celery, olives, capers, tomato sauce, sugar, vinegar, and salt to taste. Gently stir in the eggplant, being careful not to break it up. Simmer for 2 to 3 minutes, and then transfer to a large bowl or platter and cool.

Pile the caponata in a pyramid and surround it with hard-boiled eggs, sprinkle with chopped parsley, and serve cold or at room temperature. (This is even better if made a day before.)

Eggplant Caponata

Peach cobbler Serves 10

For the dough:
500 g AP flour
200 g butter, at cool room temperature
200 g sugar
Pinch of salt
4 egg yolks
1 whole egg

For the filling:
1 jar of Lemon Jam from Pantelleria
2 jars of White Peaches from Leonforte, chopped
80 gr of Green Pistachio
Brown sugar
Butter, cut into pieces

Garden Gathering

Garden Gathering with David Tanis – Selecting natures bounty for lunch

Combine all dough ingredients in a mixer and mix together quickly until dough just comes together. Do not overwork. If necessary, add a drop of milk. If mixing by hand, pile the flour and make a well in the center. Add sugar, salt, yolks and egg into the well and mix in, little by little. Once it is all incorporated, make another well and add the butter in small pieces. Incorporate quickly.
Preheat the oven to 350° F. Butter and flour a 10-inch spring form pan. On a floured work surface, roll out the dough ¼ inch thick. Place in pan, then cut so sides are 1-inch high (you can also pat the dough into the pan). Cover bottom of dough with tarocco lemon marmalade and add the peaches. Sprinkle with pistachios, brown sugar and butter. Bake for about 30 minutes until pastry is deep golden. Serve it cold.

Cooking with Fabrizia Lanza in the Kitchen