Wine & Stuffed Shells

Since the visit to Siena and San Gimignano and loving the wine there (my post on this visit is still in draft form -- there is so much to talk about and so little time to sit down and write since I don't have my laptop here -- so look for the post soon!), I picked up this bottle at the grocery just down the block from my apartment. Only 4 euros for the bottle and well worth it! San Gimignano is known for their white wines and I too am now a fan!

Here is a photo of my pasta creation: Stuffed shells.  Although my roommate, the chief chef, helped me do most of it, I felt rather proud of learning how to make the dish. We used large shell noodles, mozzarella, ricotta, and parmesan cheese, one egg and some basil, mixed into a paste.  We then stuffed the shells with the cheesy goop and laid them in a pan with red sauce to simmer over the stove.  We added a little more red sauce and let them cook for maybe 15 minutes.

*Note: I made this dish again on my own for my friend a few days ago and she said it was delicious! So "HA" to all of my friends and family who still believe I am incapable of making anything... just wait until I make my stuffed shells for you! ;)

Piazza San Marco & Piazza della Santissima Annunziata

Here are some photos from one of my favorite places in Florence: Piazza San Marco & Piazza della Santissima Annunziata.  The last two photos are Piazza San Marco and the others Santissima Annuziata.

I went here during my first week in Florence and saw some of the locals hanging out.  There was a man teaching another man to draw, with the learning man's son creeping over his shoulder and watching his pencil strokes very carefully.   

An older man, probably grandfather, was teaching a young boy to ride his bike.  When the boy fell over the man comforted the boy, who was clearly trying as hard as he could to hide his pain.  It was neat to see how different they both reacted in this situation I have seen replayed a thousand times back home. They were very quiet but very intimate.  There was no yelling to "walk it off"! Nor did the boy burst into a tearful rampage.  Perhaps it all depends on how different people react differently, but I still found it touching to watch these two.

Lastly on my way leaving the Piazza I caught a glimpse of a young couple, maybe 15 or 16, the girl crying and the boy with his arm around her and wiping her tears.  It looked so sweet coming from such young people.  

The pre-teens here always seem older than they really are.  For the first few weeks of my class there was one Italian girl who could not speak any English.  Since I can only speak minimal Italian, there was such a language barrier in the classroom.  I watched her come and go every day and I assumed she was nearly my age.  However on one of the last days, with our professor translating, I learned that she was only 15! The age of my younger sister! I could hardly believe how she was this young.  As I have learned since then, the youths here are permitted to dress a little older style for their age compared to Americans.  Also, the drinking age here is 16... something to think about.