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| We woke up one morning to find this. |
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| front view |
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| Notice the suspension. |
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| This is in the market. |
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| Yes, these are beans. |
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| They may not look perfect, but they are delicious! |
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| 2 cloves tomato... |
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| the Italian version of the Hershey's kiss |
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| This scale weighs the fruit and calculates the price. |
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| Despite the American belief, eggs do not need to be refrigerated. |
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| Chocolate chips are a new idea in Italy |
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| These were both in the electronic store. |
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| the jazz concert |
-Jeremy
Your note about the eggs reminded of our fraternity at Penn State, and that brought back a flood of good memories.
ReplyDeleteTwice a term we bought eggs, and we stored them, unrefrigerated as you noted, in a basement room that we used as sort of a larder. Lest you think we didn't like eggs, let me mention that each box contained 24 flats of 144 eggs. Each morning our short-order cook (one of our brothers earning his way through school) manned the griddle and served each of us our choice of eggs and either French toast or pancakes. None of the 35 or so of us starved.
I remember that larder for another reason. It was where Steve Wozniak played his saxophone. (Isn't that just the perfect name for a jazz saxophonist.) Several of us would sit on the cases of food and "accompany" him on the boxes.
The larder was under Susie's room just off the kitchen. You reached it through a very narrow set of stairs (what fire code?) like you might find in many homes in Todi. You really couldn't carry large boxes down those stairs, so stocking them was done through the ramp that PSU had cut into the basement to service our boilers. It was PSU because our fraternity house was one of the six (five after the fire next door) fraternities on campus. Ours was in the choicest location adjacent to the huge recreation hall complex. Steam was the energy source for our house's hot water heating system, and, as with every other building on campus, steam was delivered from the maze of tunnels we knew as snow-free sidewalks.
While Art Keen was our short order breakfast cook all of the years I lived there, we had a cook Jenny, who handled dinners and weekday lunches. Jenny was Suzie's daughter. She had been cook with us since she was practically a teen-ager. She was just the sort of somewhat rotund, ruddy complected, jovial cook you might expect to find in any restaurant. Although she was single all 30 or so years she had worked there, she did marry a retired long-haul truck driver my senior year.
Susie was mother and housekeeper to all the hundreds of young men who missed mom during their stay at college. Susie lived in two rooms off of the kitchen. While Jenny was big and round, Susie was a wisp of a woman, not even 5 feet tall. For those who didn't have classes at lunch-time, you could join her in her room and play crazy eights or watch soap operas with her. Every morning, she would go upstairs to the second and third floor and make the beds for all of us. She would change and wash our sheets every week. While that might sound like we were pampered young men, this was a time when the same service was provided in our dorm rooms.
Except on Sunday dinner at 1:00, Susie didn't eat with us. It wasn't only Sundays that meals were formal, but also Monday through Thursday. Formal meant coat and tie, everyone seated at the same time, pocket doors slid open by the waiters, white table cloths, and manners. Coffee was served with the dessert course (and woe to those who insisted on tea). If all that seemed improbably elitist, let me mention that we did it for $50 dollars less per term than room and board in the dorms.
Susie rarely shared our living room or den. In fact on nights when girls were present we had to hire a "house mother," a university requirement. Susie kept to her room, although she was always available for a chat.
Good times.
Granddad