Corriere della Sera, Corriere Milano

Posted by sol in cuisine or at least food on the plate

This review appeared on Italy’s major newspaper: 3 forks to my kitchen.


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Sunday again.

Posted by Sol in prattle

We left really early.
Switzerland is closer than I thought. The night before I thought I would have slept during the driving, but I felt more like asking him about algorithms and feeling so lucky to be with T.B.A.M.I.H.F.C.L.S.M.I.T.W (the best and most intelligent handsome funny caring loving sexy man in the world) and so in love. He did the driving, I read the map and the directions that I had copied down from the map site. We were both daydreaming about our life together when we missed the exit to Schwyz, so we went through Luzern instead. It was ok, only 2 kilometers longer. We got lost somewhere and I got nervous: I should have done the driving and he should have read the map. Since Lyon it is clear that Sol can’t read maps. Silly Sol. We changed places and we arrived to Kleindoettingen, painlessly.
Cornelia welcomed us with bottle of Freixenet and peanuts. I love the word freixenet.
she is a sweet woman, who fed us as if she wanted to stuff us and cook us for her Christmas’ eve dinner. Was it hansel and grethel?
We took a nap, the deepest nap in my life, with my head on T.B.A.M.I.H.F.C.L.S.M.I.T.W’s chest and we both plunged directly onto rapid eye movement sleep.
Cornelia decided we should have dessert, and it was funny and nice. I mean. I have never said no to sugar. Or raspberries.
We left and decided to stop in Zurich. Hey, dreaming costs nothing. We sat on a bench under a tree, I think it was St. Peter-something platz.
We wandered around and took off the trip back home.

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Posted by Sol in prattle

It was indeed a sunny day. When I was a teenager (I realized not a long time ago that I’m a teenager no more) sundays used to be the worst day of the week. No place to hide on sunday.
Now sundays are worth the other dull six days. Sundays or every other day spent like this one.

Love is a wonderful thing.

My grandfather makes me feel his absence. He used to call me on sundays. I miss him badly, I hope he’s somewhere looking after me.

Tomorrow I’ll be back breaking my back for some bread and some band. Longing for next sunday.

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Lavorare stanca

Posted by Sol in prattle

Yesterday I realized what a nervous breakdown was, as I felt really close to it. I am working hard and I’m probably not used to it. (6 days a week, 9-10 hours a day. Not exactrly an easy start) I’m sorry I was a bad girl last night with Charles, I overreacted, as I often do. But at the end I was kind of right because he apologized. I expect my work to be appreciated, that’s all. I’m doing it for the acknowledgement and obviously not the money.
It’s nice to see people coming back, often they come back the very next day. Hey, that means they have a fine dinner and they’re satisfied. If so, I’m satisfied, too.
I’m planning to change the menu soon, out:salad with goat cheese and orange gores. In: Caramelized pineapple and Stilton cheese salad. I wish I could change salmon tartare for a red tuna tartare. I suppose I will need auth from boss for this one.

It’s very late now and I can’t catch sleep. I had a coffee at 23.30. Very wise…
At least I finally manage to blog something!

I received very good news this week. The girl I used to help out with school was not flunk, against all odds. I felt 1% responsible for her success, and most of all, it gave sense to the hours spent reviewing rules of three, atmospheres’ structures, english grammars, hellenic histories, italian verbs… I even offered to continue my tutoring next year. The best part of it is to see interest, curiosity and inspiration grow in someone totally lacking of.

HOlyyy it’s almost 5 in the morning. Alarm clock will start braying in 5 hours!

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La vita secondo Quino.

Posted by sol in italian

Penso che la forma in cui la vita fluisce sia sbagliata. Dovrebbe essere al contrario: Si dovrebbe morire prima, per levarsi la morte d’una volta per tutte.
Poi, vivere in un ospizio fino a che non sei piu’ cosi’ vecchio. Allora cominci a lavorare, lavorare per quarant’anni, fino a che sei abbastanza giovane per godere della tua pensione.
Poi feste, bagordi, alcol, droghe. Divertimento, amanti, amici, amiche, tutto. Fino a quando sei pronto per andare a scuola. Passi alle elementari, e sei un bambino che passa il tempo giocando, senza alcuna responsabilita’.
Dopo passi ad essere un bebe, ed entri al ventre materno, e passi li’ gli ultimi e i migliori 9 mesi della tua vita, galleggiando in un tiepido liquido, fino a che la tua vita si spegne in un tremendo orgasmo.

Questa si’ che e’ vita.

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I love this shitty weather.

Posted by Sol in prattle

Silly july rain. Living in a diswasher. Wet and dark.

Longing for next sunday.

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Posted by sol in images

Catharsis is a form of emotional cleansing first defined by the Greek philosopher Aristotle. It originally referred to the sensation that would ideally overcome an audience upon finishing a tragedy. The fact that there existed those who could suffer a worse fate than them was to them a relief, and at the end of the play, they felt ekstasis (literally, astonishment), from which the modern word ecstasy is derived. While seemingly related to schadenfreude, it is not, however, in the sense that the audience is not intentionally led to feel happy in light of others’ misfortunes; in an invariant sense, their spirits are refreshed through having greater appreciation for life.

The term catharsis has been adopted by modern psychotherapy to describe the act of giving expression to deep emotions often associated with events in the individuals past which have never before been adequately expressed. (source: wikipedia)

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Posted by Sol in prattle

Today I cooked sushi, yesterday I cooked a salmon tartare, and the day before, en apple paper with sweet dips.
I’m the chef of a little restaurant hat opened 10 days ago.
Someone asked me today: are you french?
I was speaking in french with Charles, the barman from Senegal. I was flattered, didn’t know my french was so good.
Yesterday Tullio told me he loved my food and my taste. I was so happy. Finally I’m putting passion on some productive activity.

Tomorrow I’ll fly alone. Good weather forecasted. I’m sure I will do great.

On sunday I’m off, finally. One day with my one and only greatest love, just for the two of us. It’s a bloody summer.
I bought a nice pair of shoes, but they hurt my toe.

What else?

Oh of course. I got my legs waxed. Big pain. Big satisfaction to wear a skirt and show some skin. I’m beautiful.

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