The Gentle Art of Renaissance Cooking

For some reason, in the last few days preparations for the Renaissance party have motivated me much more than academic accomplishments. So here's what I did today instead of grading home exams or finishing an essay: I baked a Renaissance-style cheese and onion pie. In case you're interested, you can find the recipe here (be warned: that is not a Weight Watchers page you're entering).

I was expecting the tart to be tasty (after all, what's not to like: fatty cheese, onions, sultanas, parsley, sugar and spices), but still the result surprised me positively. It's not too sweet, although the added sugar and sultanas make your brain do funny things, not knowing whether this is a sweet or savoury dish. Also next time I'll double the amount of ginger.

But yep, this one's definitely on the party menu.

Another example of my skewered priorities is that when I couldn't sleep last night, I got up to trim my French hood (now there's a double entendre if I ever produced one). Never in my life have I considered sitting up until 11 pm sowing beads on a piece of headwear. Strange days indeed.

The SHS is also spreading its sinister influence, one person at a time.; at least I've already managed to involve some totally innocent people in this Renaissance lark. Last week I persuaded my mum to help me with the making of two bumrolls (ours are blue, by the way). Mum's a good sport, and she complied with surprisingly little resistance (I think she was curious to know what exactly I had in mind). However, in order to make a decent bumroll, you need quite a lot of stuffing. Having exhausted our supply of old pantyhose and other miscellaneous hosiery, we turned to my mum's best friend for help. Thankfully, she's one of those people who never throws anything away, and soon furnished us with about fifty pairs of old pantyhose. (Seriously, people! Let this be a warning to you all...). But now Otter and I can cut a nearly authentic figure in our Renaissance frocks, although I don't think even Queen Elizabeth has as cool bumrolls as we do. At least hers weren't stuffed with support stockings...

Small Budget Charity

Now here's an amusing thing you can do if you've got time on your hands and zero motivation to do any real work. Check out this website. (I found it through her.)

While I don't think that the English language is getting impoverished, or that all these newfangled words are ruining its ages-old beauty, it's nevertheless a nice idea to hang onto some of the older words and expressions - especially if they're useful or poignant or just downright silly.

Here are five words I picked, and have pledged to use as much as I can. I tried to choose words that are genuinely useful (there are lots of words that are very specific, and thus not all that practical for everyday activities like blogging).

Blateration. "blabber, chatter". As in "I couldn't get a word in the edgewise for all the blateration at the meeting."

Foppotee. "a simple-minded person". This is my favourite - mainly because it's meaning is so self-evident. "He's a great foppotee, but I like him nevertheless."

Incabinate. "to enclose or imprison in a cabin." A word of great usefulness in the Finnish summer. "They're planning to incabinate me for two months."

Welmish. "of a pale or sickly colour." While obviously handy when referring to people, somehow I think this word applies very well to animals as well - especially dogs. "The new puppy was cute, but of a strange, welmish colour."

Yelve. "a dung fork." This word has a deliciously Ye Olde Worlde ring to it - and I can't believe that fantasy writers haven't rallied to its defense. "Gandalf was greatly annoyed when the Balrog prodded him in the backside with his yelve."

New arrivals

This is "Eino". He was born on Sunday - just in time to make a great Mothers' Day gift for M - and I got to meet him when he was only a few hours old.

I'm not of the 'Miracle of Birth' school (meaning that I'm not overawed by the arrival of new life), but I'm a keen supporter of the 'Baby Animals Are Darn Cute' club. I would also be terrified to be left in charge of a newborn human (or indeed any human under 5); yet, I had no scruples watching over little Eino and bottlefeeding him until he learned how and where to get the milk himself (he finally mastered this at around 1 am).

"I should peddle butterflies / There's a shortage in the city... "

As my academic career seems to be going nowhere (quite literally) at the moment, I've got to provide some movement by some other means. So I went to Helsinki for May Day, mainly to see Fidia and to take care of some SHS business.

I finally got to meet my dress. It looks even better than I thought it would (when I was feeling overly optimistic); the green velvet (or the approximation thereof) is exactly the right shade, and the blue-and-gold brocade (ditto) looks really sumptuous. The only problem with the dress was the sleeves: being historically accurate, they weren't sown to the bodice, but came as separate attachments - but with only two holes on the shoulder and a length of ribbon to attach them with. As I had expected a less efficiently air-conditioned model, I spent the best part of Saturday afternoon attaching the sleeves to the bodice. I was positively surprised with the result (as I'm not a very adept needlewoman, and attaching things to other things has always been especially problematic for me), and now all I need is a bumroll (my mum has promised to make me one).

Anyway. Other Stereotypical History Society business included teaching Renaissance dancing to six other members of our society. The dances I'd chosen (bransle and pavan) were surprisingly simple, and my apt pupils picked them up very quickly - and even claimed to enjoy hopping about randomly in full view of other people. Although I have to say that folk who spend most of their time staring into a computer screen have some difficulty reaching even one tenth of the gracefulness of their Renaissance counterparts (who, I've been informed, spent their days practicing various sports, and yes, dancing).

I'm glad my friends showed genuine enthusiasm towards the dancing, because otherwise I've been feeling as if I've been left holding up the pole (with Otter and T holding up another), while the others are just glad to sit back in the carriage and enjoy the ride. Of course, others probably haven't got as much spare time on their hands as I do, and can't spend hours pondering the finer points of French hoods; yet, it's always a bit saddening when you realise other people aren't as enthusiastic about things you have a passion for.

Luckily, there's still plenty of time to get people interested in the Renaissance party, and make them realise they need to find something appropriate to wear as well.

Although the beginning of last week was more crappy than most, I'm feeling more optimistic and upbeat now - and, of course, still looking forward to the party. The song below pretty well sums up my present state of mind. (It's 'Aching to Pupate' by Regina Spektor. I wish I'd written that song).

The charms of Castelmola

Summer has finally arrived in Central Finland, and I don't feel so bad anymore about leaving Sicily behind. I get a twinge of wanderlust when I look through my photos, but as I've spent the last two days in a car (most of the time getting nowhere), and I'm planning to celebrate May 1st in Helsinki, I'm quite content to sit still for a while (and pretend to get some work done).

The pictures above are of the village of Castelmola, which lies almost directly above Taormina. The place itself is worth seeing - it has a ruined castle, some picturesque little streets, and some picturesque ruined little houses.

However, the main attraction of the village is its famed almond wine, and we were told that this was the place to buy it from. Not knowing what to expect, we (I was travelling with my mother, remember) were rather taken aback by the unashamedly phallic decor of the place when we decided to stop there for lunch. Service was rather slow, but when our pizzas finally arrived, they were excellent - AND we got a complementary glass of almond wine at the end of the meal. Needless to say, we also bought two bottles of the stuff.

The route to Castelmola from Taormina is quite short, but demanding enough even for a seasoned walker like me. Needless to say, the views on the way are breathtaking, and thus well worth the exhausting climb. Thus, when at the end of the second week, mum and I found we had still one day of unscheduled time on our hands, we decided to make a second trip up the mountain. This was partly because during our first visit the weather was grey, and I couldn't get decent pictures of the place. Mainly, though, we went back for some more of that excellent wine.

Turns out the bartender at Turrisi remembered us, offered us another free helping of wine, and provided us with couple of more bottles. This time around the weather was glorious (making the uphill trek quite a sweaty one), and on top of it all, we got some extra entertainment watching people put up decorations for the forthcoming St. George's day (he being the patron saint of not only the English, but the people of Castelmola as well).

Prior to this trip, I was advised not to wear any jewellery while in Sicily. I mostly stuck to this principle but I can't say it made any difference; no one tried to steal anything, whether I was wearing a necklace or not - nor did my mother's purse get picked (she, after all, wore a ring and a gold bracelet all the time). So I won't pass on this piece of advice. One tip I'd like to give is this: when in Sicily, always carry change and small amounts of cash with you. Never rely on your credit card (as it might not work), or the fact that shopkeepers have enough change. I found that not even supermarkets have enough small change in their tills, and often I got either too few or too many coins.

Also: always, always take your suntan lotion with you, no matter how rainy the day looks.

Our duomo is bigger than your duomo

Since I finally got the Licentiate thesis off my hands, and the lecture almost planned, I might as well share some of my impressions of Sicily with you. As I said earlier, I enjoyed the island very much, and would like to go back some day to see more of it, as we only travelled up and down the east coast.

Taormina, the city where we stayed, is exquisite. It has a stunning location, numerous groovy little side streets, a lovely big park (originally owned by an Englishwoman called Lady Trevelyan), a bustling piazza, and lots and lots of shops (most of which were way beyond my budget). Because of this, it's been a popular tourist attraction for years and years (Goethe was also very impressed by Taormina, but I guess that he didn't go there for the shopping, either).

The weather was somewhat unpredictable, and perhaps because of that (or because of the economic situation) there weren't that many tourists around. We non-Sicilians did stand out very easily, though; while we sauntered along Corso Umberto in our t-shirts and linen trousers, the locals still sported their winter coats and black leather boots (women) or woollen slipovers (men). I wonder if we Scandinavians are the only people in Europe who dress according to the weather (and not according to the calendar, or some other arbitrary reason).

I was positively surprised by the public transport on the island. It was easy to get from Taormina to the nearby cities - by bus and by train - and as far as I could tell, both forms of transport operated more or less on time, and most delightfully of all, were very affordable. The train to Syracyse was crowded (it was Easter Sunday), and the bus from Catania to Taormina took two hours to traverse the 40-odd kilometre journey (but there were faster buses as well, and we did get to see many lovely seaside towns on the way).

Of those two larger cities we visited, Syracuse definitely won my approval. The weather was unfortunately foul (rain and a strong wind from the sea), but despite that, the place was one of the most impressive cities I've seen; the Piazza Duomo alone would have made the trip worthwhile. We also got a good (but rather unexpected) Easter lunch in one of the small restaurants near the Duomo; around noon we were getting rather peckish and started looking for a suitable place (not a very easy task since most restaurants open late in the afternoon). After a frustrating search, we happened upon an open door, out of which peered a small granny. I asked her whether the restaurant was open, but she couldn't understand English, and I couldn't understand her Italian. Fortunately the owner of the place spoke some English, and we established that lunch would be served at one o'clock. Coming back at the appointed hour, we were ushered to a small table, and soon food and wine began appearing in front of us - without either of us ordering anything or even consulting a menu.

Turns out Easter lunch was the only thing they were serving that day. Which was just as well: we sat there for about three hours, consumed five courses (counting the traditional Sicilian Easter cake), and got a hearty handshake (and an invitation to come back for Xmas lunch) from the owner as we finally staggered out of the door. All this for 35 euros each.

Catania, on the other hand was bit of a disappointment. First of all, the city is (quite inevitably) shabbier than Syracuse (Mt. Etna is after all in their backyard), and it has an overall feel of seediness not apparent in the more 'touristy' places. There are lots of shops there, but most of them were again too expensive for the student budget, and the open-air market on the other hand contained little more than trinkets and scary, shouty peddlers.

However, there were good bits, too. Piazza Duomo (again) was a spectacle in itself (so was the Duomo - the largest church I've ever seen, and I've seen a few). The public park (named after the city's famous son, Bellini), was partly under construction, but the parts we saw were very pleasant indeed (so was the pizza we ate there). For me, the best bit was the Civic Museum, a 13th century Norman castle that houses Greek and Roman art which you get to see for free.

There's so much to tell that I guess I'll have to write a separate post about the smaller villages we visited (especially Castelmola, which was so fascinating we trekked up there twice. More about its charms later).

Taormina dreaming...

The long-awaited trip to Sicily was a success; so much so that it's been really hard getting used to the routine of writing and planning lectures, and to the sunny but mercilessly chilly Finnish weather. I'll probably be posting more of my impressions on the island later on, so suffice it to say that during the last two weeks I enjoyed the Mediterranean spring, local cuisine, and general non-academic activities to the full, and also managed to get a decent suntan.

However, my supervisor finally mailed his comments on my Licenciate thesis, and today I did some last-minute readjustments before sending it to our professor. About time, too. Soon I'll have to start thinking about the structure and actual contents of my PhD thesis, but at the moment I'm more concerned about getting my act together before Friday, when I've got to teach the penultimate grammar lecture (adjectives and adverbials, yay). After that, I can start worrying about finding appropriate Renaissance dances, and the best way of teaching them to myself and the rest of the Stereotypical History Society over the 1st of May weekend.