Two Worlds

Chocolate chip cookies are an all-American treat. © Photo by Francesca Di Meglio

Gooey, chewy chocolate chip cookies, paired with an ice cold glass of milk, are almost as comforting as mamma’s warm embrace. When you’re jonesing for one on a small island off the coast of Naples, Italy and your mamma is nowhere to be found, you end up agreeing to a hug from some large-breasted zia – who is really your neighbor and not a blood relative at all – and in whose chest your nose ends up getting stuck. Instead of feeling warm and fuzzy, you usually just feel violated. And you still want that dang chocolate chip cookie. Alas, Chips Ahoy are hard to come by here. Let’s face it, nothing beats a fresh-from-the-oven, homemade cookie anyway.

You think, “I have an oven, two hands, and my recipe on this Godforsaken island, so why not make the cookies myself?” Well, it’s the ingredients that get you. Classic chocolate chip cookies require brown sugar. When you ask people on Ischia for brown sugar, they hand you raw cane sugar. It’s brown, but it’s not brown sugar. Next, you begin dreaming up ways to make your own brown sugar. But that requires molasses. The reaction from the natives when you ask for sweet, sweet molasses is, “Molahhhsss, che?” It basically translates to, “Mole ass, what?”

So, I never realized how American chocolate chip cookies were until I spent even more significant time with Italians. Bet you didn’t think that was possible, right? After all, I grew up with a father who grew up in Ischia and a mom, whose father grew up in Ischia. Still, I never knew that my deprived ancestors – on top of having to climb out of poverty, go to school only until the third or fifth grade, and pee and poop in an outhouse – only learned of the sacred chocolate chip cookie until they moved to the States. I took the cookie for granted. The islanders had no idea what they had been missing.

When my husband and I got married nearly five years ago and his family came to the United States for our vow renewal ceremony (shortly after we married in Italy), my mother would serve up Nestle chocolate chip cookies fresh from the oven after dinner every night. My in-laws had never seen or eaten a chocolate chip cookie. But it was love at first bite. Now, they wanted me to make the cookies when I was in Italy. But I didn’t know what to do without brown sugar. A few of them attempted to make them with white sugar and failed miserably.

For the first time last week (as a Mother’s Day gift to my sisters-in-law, who craved the chocolate chip so), I made the chocolate chip cookie successfully without brown sugar. I can not take any of the credit for it was another blogger, who came up with the recipe that saved us from our cookie-free life on this isolated isola. If you want one of the best chocolate chip cookies ever, make the recipe at How to Simplify. We Italian islanders are forever in your debt, Jen Tilley.

Di Meglio is the author of Fun with the Family New Jersey (Globe Pequot Press Travel, 2012) and the Guide to Newlyweds for About.com.

The head of my photo train features my No. 1 conductor, Baby Boy. © Photo by Francesca Di Meglio

Since I don’t want Baby Boy to forget all his peeps in the United States, I came up with a creative way to display photos in his Italian playroom/our living room. Lately, I have had creative uses for photos on the brain, and this one just came to me. Inspired by the trend of creating photo streamers for birthday parties, I decided I would make a train with paper, some glue, and scrap paper I had leftover from other projects. If I were home in the United States, I would have made train templates and traced them and traced perfect circular wheels. Here in Italy, which is the land of no printers for me, I free-handed it and decided to purposely make everything a little off. I also didn’t have the time to perfect anything.

To keep things even simpler, aside from the start of the train, which is in the photo above and looks like the conductor’s cart, I made the rest of the train out of basic squares and rectangles with wheels on them as you’ll see below. I cut these out freehand, too. Then, I simply pasted photos to them. I was sure to use the photos as a guide for the size of the squares and rectangles, so each would be framed nicely. For the first conductor’s cart, I cut out an L-shape, a rectangle and strips for the window, and the top for the “smoke” to escape. Then, I cut out very skinny strips of paper and folded them in a random, accordion-like manner to make that “smoke.”Finally, I used tape to attach the pieces of the train to a ribbon, which actually came from a baby gift we received last year. I used tape at the back of the train carts to make sure it stuck to the ribbon.

Now, I get Baby Boy to chugga-chugga-choo-choo over to the photos every now and then and point out who he’s with in them. I hope he’ll at least have an idea of his American family when we return to the States a long, long time from now.

Di Meglio is the author of Fun with the Family New Jersey (Globe Pequot Press Travel, 2012) and the Guide to Newlyweds for About.com.

The rest of the photo train features pics of Baby Boy with his relatives. © Photo by Francesca Di Meglio

A bridge for walking and autos greets visitors to Overpeck Park. © Photo by Francesca Di Meglio

Once a landfill, Overpeck Park in Bergen County, New Jersey is now one of my happy places. And before we left fair New Jersey for Italy in April, we took Baby Boy for a stroll there. The charming wooden bridge for walking and autos is now a lovely symbol of the land. Englewood, Leonia, Palisades Park, Ridgefield Park, and Teaneck donated hundreds of acres of land surrounding Overpeck Creek about 50 years ago to create this park. It features walking paths, a dog park, tennis courts, baseball fields, and even an equestrian area with horses for riding. There are tracks, a canoe/kayak launch, and a fishing area, not to mention a playground for kids.

An oasis in the middle of a county that often seems more city than suburb, Overpeck has even recently attracted a pair of American eagles. (I, along with the rest of New Jersey, am hoping the eagles make it.) Bergen County announced May 10 that more improvements are coming to the park. The County is receiving a $500,000 grant to complete a missing link of pedestrian paths traversing the park and will connect all the venues within it, according to the announcement.

There’s so much you can do at Overpeck. But I have to admit my favorite pastime at the park is simple walking. I especially enjoy a visit in the spring, when it is still not too hot and all the flowers and plants are in bloom. I take photos by the pretty trees dressed in pink or white flowers, people watch, encounter the many dogs and babies, and take a deep breath. Bet those who knew the land as a landfill never imagined it could be a place of such peace and beauty.

Di Meglio is the author of Fun with the Family New Jersey (Globe Pequot Press Travel, 2012) and the Guide to Newlyweds for About.com.

An attempt to copy a restaurant chain’s appetizer resulted in this meal. © Photo by Antonio Gerenini

When I spent three weeks in Florida over the winter, I went to Romano’s Macaroni Grill for the second time in my life – and this time I was a little impressed. I know it’s a chain restaurant, but my husband and I are picky, especially about Italian food. We, after all, have been eating our mamma’s Italian cooking since we were born. And the Italian chain has a “tapas” menu, which is a little silly because “tapas” is Spanish. Antipasto is Italian. Still, these cocktail foods were smaller portions of deliciousness. Upon his first bite of “Chianti Sausage and Crispy Potatoes,” my husband – the native Italian – told me I had to find a way to replicate this dish.

Back at home in New Jersey, I practiced, and I think I finally managed to copy the recipe just before we left for Italy. So, I thought I’d share. Many an Italian American I know uses red wine in their sausage, peppers, and onions, and this recipe is an homage to that one, I think. I didn’t have Chianti, so I used my father’s homemade red wine.

What I did to start was smash two to three cloves of garlic (depends how much garlic you like and how much sausage you are making. I was making enough sausage for my husband and me, so I just used two cloves). Add them to the pan. You could also add onions to the pan at this point (if you’d like to make a more traditional sausage and peppers dish). Add olive oil and heat it on medium high to infuse the oil with the garlic. Then, add the peppers. Use some sweet and some jalapeno or hot peppers. You could even use crushed red pepper instead of the spicy peppers and let them wilt again in the oil and garlic. You might have to adjust the heat to keep the garlic from burning. Then, add the sausage. Just before the sausage is going to completely brown, add the red wine. Now, you want to reduce the wine a bit, so you burn off the alcohol. But you still want there to be enough, so that there is a sauce for dipping crusty bread in after you’ve finished eating the sausage and peppers. In fact, that’s my husband’s favorite part of the dish, in fact. I actually should have used more wine and reduced it less, so that hubby could have had more sauce. I’ll keep that in mind for next time.

The potatoes are even easier to make. You can peel the potato or scrub the skin and keep it on, whatever your preference. Slice the potatoes about one and half inches thick. Stir them in olive oil and salt and place them in one layer on a baking sheet with parchment paper on it. Bake them at about 400 degrees F for 15 minutes. Then, keep checking until they get browned and crispy. At Macaroni Grill, the potatoes are standing up on a pick. I used my fondue fork to give a similar effect. While the potatoes are still hot, I load them onto the fondue fork, add a little more sea salt, and then I grate Parmigiano cheese on top. Go easy on the salt, though, because the cheese is salty, too. That’s the recipe. Buon appetito!

Di Meglio is the author of Fun with the Family New Jersey (Globe Pequot Press Travel, 2012) and the Guide to Newlyweds for About.com.

Baby Boy is pensive outside a church in Ischia, Italy. © Photo by Francesca Di Meglio

Baby Boy’s little cousin calls him Dragon because he’s usually a spitfire without words. She builds tall towers with blocks for herself because she’s a princess, and Baby Boy comes running to knock them down. She yells, “Dragon, Dragon!” Then, the two of them giggle and fall to the ground together before arguing over one toy or another. It’s love and hate – but mostly love – with those two. On the day we left New Jersey for a nine-month stay in Italy, they had one last battle in which he tore out a chunk of her beautiful blond locks and she bit his back – and left a mark to remember her by. In the end, they hugged each other tightly. Baby Boy screamed when we tried to put him in the car headed for the airport. It was as if he understood he’d be leaving behind his best friend and worst, but favorite, enemy.

On the plane, the kind stewardess, who is a mom to a three-year old, tried to give him the kind of milk that comes from powder, so it lasts longer. He spit it in all our faces. Then, he cried – yelled actually – for about an hour while everyone else was trying to sleep. I could get him to calm down for a moment or two in the restroom, but we couldn’t stay in there forever. Finally, he cried himself to sleep. It wasn’t so bad after that. He drank water, not milk to which he has a serious addiction.

When we arrived at my in-laws’ home in Ischia, he was greeted by his three aunts, their husbands, his four cousins, and Nonna, all of whom live in the same house with us. Even though he met everyone and spent three months in Ischia last year, he wouldn’t greet them. He stayed in my arms, hesitantly smiled when one of them tried to kiss or hug him. He was, however, keen to grab the ball and start kicking it to everyone in the garden out back. And he really appreciated the colored pencils that his relatives had put in the playroom they set up for him, replete with kid-sized table and chairs, a toddler bicycle, and other various toys. Still, this 19-month-old wasn’t quite the Dragon yet. He wasn’t knocking anything down, and there was no fight in him.

We figured he was desperate for a fix of milk. When we handed him his cup full of fresh milk that my mother-in-law had purchased just for him, he took a sip, spit it out, and threw the cup at us. He did, however, eat up the yummy Nutella filled cake with a Toy Story design on it that his aunt made just for his arrival. But it wasn’t enough of an effort for him to go to her, even though she had bathed him a hundred times the year before. In fact, she was the one, who helped him – not to mention me – get through a month-long plight of diarrhea that he faced on our last trip. He didn’t seem to remember or he remembered and wanted to forget.

Maybe he was tired. It was a long, long trip, after all. So, we went to sleep. And Baby Boy slept an unbelievable and unprecedented 16 hours. This is the Dragon. He has never slept 16 consecutive minutes, never mind 16 consecutive hours. By the next week, he still wasn’t coming around. Whenever his relatives tried to make a move toward him, he would hold onto my husband and I as if his life were in danger. He would sometimes smack their shoulders or faces to get them to move away, and he would always say, “No, no, no, no, no…”

I was getting embarrassed and hurt for the in-laws. I could tell they were disappointed, too. They kept saying that he should be used to the Old World again already. I knew different. He was in a different country, where everyone spoke a different language (even if it is one he has grown up around), and he left behind all his stuff in his house where only three of us lived, and I was certain he missed his American relatives, too. It would take more than a few days to get used to so much change.

At the end of the first week, Baby Boy and I curled up in bed for a Sunday afternoon nap, and he began burning up. It was day one of a week of fever. The Dragon was on fire himself. As it turns out he had an ear infection. His eyes seemed to be infected, too, and he had puss on his throat. He began taking antibiotics, which would give him – you guessed it – more diarrhea. His bottom turned as red as the tomatoes that rise like Jack’s beanstalk around here. Now, he wouldn’t even get in the bath tub because it burned to the touch and especially when washing with soap. The only person he wanted, of course, was me, his mommy.

Despite having to work nights (keeping American hours for my editors), I was happy to hold him in my arms and dote on him. He seemed to need some coddling and cuddling. And I was sad, too. I missed our home for just the three of us back in N.J. I missed working days. I missed my own mommy and papa’, not to mention the princess and the rest of the gang in our American fairy tale. But I didn’t want him to suffer, and I was worried this would turn into another month – or even longer – of sickness in Italy. We were both heart sick enough. We didn’t need an actual ailment, too.

There was some good news. Baby Boy started to take to the Italian milk and we were putting probiotic in it to help his stomach deal with the change in country and antibiotics. Soon, he was drinking milk with pleasure, relishing every sip as he had the American version. A week later when the Giro d’Italia came to town, we took him outside for the first time since he fell ill. He had gone a whole day without fever. I put him in his Dragon shirt (see above) and we first headed to church to say a prayer for him and for us.

In the photo above, he was still a sad, little boy. Every once in a while, he would have a tantrum, and he would throw himself onto the cold tile floor with tears streaming down his face and scream. Then, he’d jump up, run into a dark room, lay his head on the bed, and cry some more. Often, nothing seemed to lead up to one of these episodes. We’d have no idea what set him off. Sometimes, he’d look as pensive as an adult trying to decide his future. Once he asked for Nonna and ran to the computer, signaling he wanted to talk to his American nonna on Skype. When she wasn’t available, he got angry. When she finally arrived, he wouldn’t talk to her and yelled, “No, no, no” to her, too. When his cousins, the princess and her baby brother, came to visit him on the computer, he would cry and run away or just ignore them.

Yesterday, we had a break through. He still won’t take a bath, so we’ve had to fan water from the bidet onto his fanny. While the odor he is now giving off is starting to get to us, he doesn’t seem to mind. But he offered a piece of bread to his zio and giggled when he tickled him. He played with his older cousins and aunts for hours and even let them feed him. And he let all his relatives kiss him good morning today.  He ran through the house and laughed and babbled. Now, he sleeps peacefully in his stroller after a long walk in Ischia. The Dragon seems to have made a comeback. If only we could get the princess over here to build a tower!

Di Meglio is the author of Fun with the Family New Jersey (Globe Pequot Press Travel, 2012) and the Guide to Newlyweds for About.com.

Baby Boy and his father say a little prayer for us. © Photo by Francesca Di Meglio

San Pietro beach as the sun goes down. © Photo by Francesca Di Meglio

The one plus to living on a small Italian island is that the beach is always moments away. In fact, we just have to walk a couple of blocks from our door to arrive at the beach here on Ischia. That’s a big deal for a girl from north Jersey, who is used to at least an hour in the car before hitting the ocean. I’ve enjoyed photographing the ocean and beach ever since I came to Ischia with my parents when I was 12. I had been to the island before, but at 12 I wanted to bring back images to share the trip with my friends. Ever since then, I’m always snapping away.

The other night, while walking with my husband and son, I took this shot above and the ones below of San Pietro beach, which is in Ischia’s main hub, Ischia Porto. I’m no professional photographer, so I realize these are not very special pics. The sun’s glare as it descends is too overpowering. But I still love the look of these pictures when I set them to sepia as you see here. It definitely makes me think about an old-fashioned summer – girls in one-piece ’50s bathing suits, guys in vintage board shorts, ice cream cones, hanging under the boardwalk, and cruising with the songs of summer blaring from the radio. Too bad I am too young to have ever experienced such a memory and that Ischia – like the rest of Italy – does not even know what a boardwalk is. You can take the girl out of Jersey, but you can’t take Jersey out of the girl. I have a funny feeling, I’ll be writing that a lot over the next eight and a half months on the island.

Di Meglio is the author of Fun with the Family New Jersey (Globe Pequot Press Travel, 2012) and the Guide to Newlyweds for About.com.

Another perspective on the setting sun from atop San Pietro Beach in Ischia. © Photo by Francesca Di Meglio

The other side of the beach starts to go dark as the sun sets on San Pietro Beach in Ischia. © Photo by Francesca Di Meglio

Cyclists head to the starting line for the Giro d’Italia in Ischia. © Photo by Francesca Di Meglio

Yesterday, the Giro d’Italia, which is Italy’s Tour de France, returned to Ischia after 54 years. The last time these competing cyclists came to Ischia, my father was present and still living in Ischia. In fact, it was his last hurrah before moving to the United States in 1960. This time around, I was present, having recently arrived from the States for a nine-month stay on my ancestor’s island. Because the irony was not lost on me, I wrote a story about it that was posted today on ItaliansRus.com. Check it out and see more photos from the Giro in the story and below.

Di Meglio is the author of Fun with the Family New Jersey (Globe Pequot Press Travel, 2012) and is the Guide to Newlyweds for About.com.

More cyclists head out to start the race. © Photo by Francesca Di Meglio

Baby Boy and his cousin and his father catch Giro fever on May 5. © Photo by Francesca Di Meglio

Baby Boy cleans up good for the family in Italy. © Photo by Francesca Di Meglio

God blessed me with a boy, which means that I don’t get to put him in fluffy dresses or pretty little tutus. Well, I could. But I’d feel guilty about it – and he doesn’t seem like he’d appreciate those sorts of clothes. Still, I have always loved playing dress up – so every so often I force him into an outfit that he hates. The one bit of good news is that my little man has a shoe obsession, and he would wear his dress shoes every day if he could, so he doesn’t mind them.

Last Sunday, before he came down with a fever and ear infection (yes, I think he’s allergic to Ischia, Italy, where we just arrived, too), I dressed him up in his finest, replete with bow tie. Most of the outfit came from Crazy 8, which is one of my new favorite kid’s clothing shops. His Italian relatives got a big kick out of it. Of course, the clothes didn’t stop Baby Boy from running, jumping, or digging in the dirt with his hands. (See below.) Boy, does Mamma have a lot of work to do to remove stains. I’m having a hard time learning my way around Italian stain removers, so I’ll be sure to share whatever secrets I come across once I figure out the ways of Italian laundry.

In the meantime, I recommend you dress up your boy in bow ties and vests, suits and overalls. Put on newsboy caps and fedoras. And take lots and lots of pictures. They won’t look so cute in these clothes in a couple of years, and you will no longer be their stylist either.

Di Meglio is the author of Fun with the Family New Jersey (Globe Pequot Press Travel, 2012) and is the Guide to Newlyweds for About.com.

Baby Boy plays with clothes pins, which everyone in Italy has on their porch. © Photo by Francesca Di Meglio

All smiles in a suit. © Photo by Francesca Di Meglio

A bouquet of artificial flowers makes for a lovely keepsake that can last a lifetime. © Photo by Francesca Di Meglio

I have been making bouquets with real flowers ever since my little cousins began having dance recitals and communions. The years have gone by, and they are now beginning to have confirmations. I’m still making bouquets. They love ‘em, and I love making ‘em. But I spend so much time in Italy nowadays that I often miss the actual celebration. Still, I don’t want any of them to be sans bouquet on an important day. So, just before I left for Italy, I made a bouquet using artificial flowers for my cousin Alessandra’s confirmation, which is set to take place in June.

I purchased two pre-made bouquets in the colors of my cousin’s confirmation party – pink, cream, and lavender – at the local Michael’s. Then, I pulled those bouquets apart and arranged the individual flowers as I saw fit. The ends of the plastic stems were different lengths, so I used wire cutters to cut them to equal lengths. Then, I wrapped a rubber band around the bottom to keep the stems in place and pushed the bouquet through a bouquet cuff that I long ago purchased at a nearby wholesale floral store – G&G Distributors in Saddle Brook. The cuff provides the tulle ruffle around the flowers, which you see in the photo above. Finally, I wrapped more tulle around the stems to cover them and the unfinished bottom of the cuff and wrapped pink ribbon around the tulle. I just let a little bit of tulle stick out of the bottom. And I kept the tulle and ribbon around the stems with a dot of hot glue. For a finishing touch, I wrapped a butterfly that was attached to a bendable piece of wire to one of the flowers near the center.

When we said our good-byes, I handed the bouquet to my cousin, who seemed please. She showed it off to our other cousins. What’s nice is that even though we won’t be at her celebration, she’ll be able to hang onto this bouquet forever, unlike the others.

Di Meglio is the author of Fun with the Family New Jersey (Globe Pequot Press Travel, 2012) and is the Guide to Newlyweds for About.com.

Antonio and I aboard the Bateaux dining cruise, which offers a new perspective on the New York skyline. © Photo courtesy of Gerenini Family

We are officially back in Italy, and we’ll be here for a long, long time. It feels like an eternity to me. It’s only been a few days, but I already missed New Jersey and nearby New York as the plane was taking off from JFK Airport. In fact, it’s not an understatement to say that my heart aches for the sights and sounds of the tri-state area.

So, I’m putting a much-needed smile on my face by remembering some of the ways I bid farewell to my home sweet home. Thanks to a friend from Ischia, who was in New York on business and was kind enough to take Antonio and I aboard the Bateaux dining cruise, I was able to take in the lights of NYC one last time before leaving for Italy. Aboard the cruise, I ate yummy lobster bisque, crab cake, seafood-stuffed crepes and cheesecake (New York style, of course). The crepes were delicious, but dripping in cream sauce and paired with the bisque and the cheesecake, it was a bit of a heavy dinner. While the price is steep – our friend gave the experience to us as a gift to thank us for letting him stay at our place – I would recommend the Bateaux to out of towners and locals alike because it is a new and fun way to take in the New York skyline. It also is quite romantic, and makes for an extra-special way to celebrate an anniversary or birthday.

The highlight of the trip is not the food, by the way. It is the ambiance. I was even able to wave arriverderci to Miss Liberty herself. Being the child of an immigrant and a sucker for the American dream and all it represents, I get choked up just at the sight of THE Statue. It felt fitting to see her up close, in all her glory one last time before I set out an adventure in reverse; whereas my ancestors greeted her at their arrival to the new world, I was heading back to their old world for what is sure to be a life-changing experience.

Di Meglio is the author of Fun with the Family New Jersey (Globe Pequot Press Travel, 2012) and the Guide to Newlyweds for About.com.