That would be me, Mrs. Moglie. Married to a native Italian, Mr. Marito.
Mother to a daughter in high school, Ms. SmartyPants and a son in middle school, Mr. Uometto.
Employed at a private British School as an English teacher and Coordinator of Children's Studies.
Part of a small, but growing Protestant church in Frascati, a small town in the hills just outside of Rome.


This is where I sometimes gripe, complain and grumble about the things I dislike, have yet to get used to or simply don't understand about bella Italia.
I do, however, have many people, places and things that I dearly love and I am more than aware of being blessed by each and every one of them.
Also - a few helpful posts for visitors to Rome or for newly arrived ex pats. Check the side bar for tags. I've even some recipes that I've borrowed, tweaked or invented. One thing I've come to love about Italy is how it's changed the way I eat - slow food !! Although ... I do miss Taco Bell ... and Jack in The Box ... and KFC ... and ::sigh::
Thanks for stopping by !!


Friday, October 15, 2010

Cannolis, Sheep and Velcro

Mr. Marito and I went for a passeggiata (a walk) this afternoon and we found a Sicilian pasticceria (pastry shop). Although Mr. Marito is Roman, through and through, he has a soft spot for Sicilian cakes and sweets, cannolis in particular. Sicilian cannolis are made with ricotta which is made from sheep's milk.

I've never eaten a cannoli before, let alone a Sicilian cannoli. From the window and then from behind the counter, it looked edible enough. Well, I was wrong. I was so very wrong.

As soon as I bit into the cheesy creme filling, it felt as though a million tiny curly hairs had grown onto my tongue, the roof of my mouth and the insides of my cheeks. At the same time, it was as if some other foreign object with its own million tiny straight hairs was randomly swirling around inside my mouth thereby causing all the little hairs to catch on one another. It felt like velcro. Very bad tasting velcro.

It's a good thing we were outside the shop by then as I would have been embarrassed if the clerk had seen me spit it out, wipe at my tongue with a kleenex and try to remove every last trace of cannoli. As I stood there with my tongue clamped between my teeth, Mr. Marito devoured both his and my cannoli in what appeared to be pure unadulterated bliss. Really, I should have known better. Here's a guy who relishes in the taste of Gorgonzola cheese; the more rancid, all the more scrumptious. For me, it would be the equivalent of taking an athlete's stinky sweaty socks after a five mile run and stuffing them into my mouth. But that's just me

I've never actually walked up to a sheep grazing in a field and licked it ... but I can't help thinking it would taste much like a Sicilian cannoli. Just my opinion.
Sicilian Cannolis
Ick! Yuck! Blech! Ptooey!
*personal opinion


On the Bright Side

°I will never ever ever have to eat them again, ever
°a happy stroll with Mr. Marito
°buying earrings at the dollar store

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