My trip to Rome turned into a masterclass in Roman cuisine. I have asked my mother and aunt to prepare some Roman dishes I had not tried for years, and the result was divine: Roman cuisine is simple and delicious. Here's a brief selection of what went down my throat by way of my palate:
First course
Risotto ai carciofi (mum): 8/10
Spaghetti ai funghi porcini (aunt): 9/10. This could have been a 10/10 if the porcini had been picked the previous night
Minestra di fagioli (mum): 9/10
Second or main course
Bistecca alla brace (mum): 9/10
Scaloppine ai funghi porcini (aunt): 10/10
Baccalà in padella (mum): (10/10)
Side dishes
"Bieda" (Swiss chard) ripassata in padella (mum): 10/10
"Cicoria" di campo (wild chicory) ripassata in padella (mum): 10/10
Zucchine gratinate (aunt): 9/10
So it was a fiercely fought tie. Even more than eating, I enjoyed learning the small secrets which can transform an ordinary recipe into something special.
Should our publishing business fail, we could always turn to cooking.
AG
Sunday, 16 May 2010
Thursday, 13 May 2010
Roma Caput Mundi
I had not been to Rome for years, so I massively overestimated how long it would take to get there from Albano Laziale. I had a ten o'clock rendezvous with two American friends, so I got on the car at around 8:15, parked the car at the station, got on the 8:25 train to Rome, and in fourteen minutes I was at Roma Termini. Because it was so early I decided to walk, but I got to Piazza Barberini in less than fifteen minutes. Ridiculous.
Rome is lovely at this time of the year: it's warm but not too warm, sunny but not sun-strikingly sunny. I was prepared to be disappointed after so many years of absence, but in fact I loved every bit of it, from the stunning buildings and monuments to the food. It's true that quod non fecerunt Barbari fecerunt Barberini, et quod non fecerunt Barberini fecit Populus Romanus: the city centre is annoyingly dingy with smog, noisy and overcrowded. But it's also true that there are more beauties than any other European capital I have ever visited put together, and that its atmosphere and charm are unique.
Although I used to be a seasoned Rome explorer, I discovered some previously unknown sites yesterday, such as Sant'Ivo in Sapienza, with the famous Borromini cupola (I only knew the other one, near Quattro Fontane). The beauty of Rome is that you can walk from one place to the other with ease, as it's all so compact. Incidentally, I realized that whereas Roman people walk at normal pace, I constantly found myself marching along: thirteen years of life in London leave a deep mark.
Rome has not changed much: walking from Termini through Piazza dei Cinquecento and Piazza Esedra to Piazza Barberini, I saw the usual second-hand-book stalls - most of which have diversified into classic adult movies such as Il buco del piacere (The Pleasure Hole) - the usual shops, the usual museums and hotels, the usual people hanging around bars as if it were Sunday morning.
The highlights of the day were the discovery of a nice Osteria near the Piramide Cestia and my return to visit Keats's and Shelley's tombs at the nearby Protestant Cemetery. There were also funny moments, such as when a nutcase almost assaulted my friend for not letting him get off the bus, and when there was a popular uprising against a bus driver who drove too fast and too jumpily on the cobblestones around Piazza Venezia and the Coliseum.
In short, a great day, which confirms my opinion that even if I would not like to live in Rome, I'd love to be here more and more often as a visitor and day-tripper.
Tomorrow off to Tivoli.
AG
Rome is lovely at this time of the year: it's warm but not too warm, sunny but not sun-strikingly sunny. I was prepared to be disappointed after so many years of absence, but in fact I loved every bit of it, from the stunning buildings and monuments to the food. It's true that quod non fecerunt Barbari fecerunt Barberini, et quod non fecerunt Barberini fecit Populus Romanus: the city centre is annoyingly dingy with smog, noisy and overcrowded. But it's also true that there are more beauties than any other European capital I have ever visited put together, and that its atmosphere and charm are unique.
Although I used to be a seasoned Rome explorer, I discovered some previously unknown sites yesterday, such as Sant'Ivo in Sapienza, with the famous Borromini cupola (I only knew the other one, near Quattro Fontane). The beauty of Rome is that you can walk from one place to the other with ease, as it's all so compact. Incidentally, I realized that whereas Roman people walk at normal pace, I constantly found myself marching along: thirteen years of life in London leave a deep mark.
Rome has not changed much: walking from Termini through Piazza dei Cinquecento and Piazza Esedra to Piazza Barberini, I saw the usual second-hand-book stalls - most of which have diversified into classic adult movies such as Il buco del piacere (The Pleasure Hole) - the usual shops, the usual museums and hotels, the usual people hanging around bars as if it were Sunday morning.
The highlights of the day were the discovery of a nice Osteria near the Piramide Cestia and my return to visit Keats's and Shelley's tombs at the nearby Protestant Cemetery. There were also funny moments, such as when a nutcase almost assaulted my friend for not letting him get off the bus, and when there was a popular uprising against a bus driver who drove too fast and too jumpily on the cobblestones around Piazza Venezia and the Coliseum.
In short, a great day, which confirms my opinion that even if I would not like to live in Rome, I'd love to be here more and more often as a visitor and day-tripper.
Tomorrow off to Tivoli.
AG
Tuesday, 11 May 2010
Music
Today we should receive finished copies of our first Overture Opera Guide. It's a shame they didn't arrive yesterday before I left for Italy. It's been a pleasure to work with Gary Kahn and Philip Reed on the first two titles of the series, and I am currently immersed in Mozart's Idomeneo, an opera whose existence I did not even suspect a few months ago.
Reading the informative articles at the front of the book and working on the Thematic Guide, I realized how ignorant I am in terms of music. Julian Rushton's musical analysis of Mozart's opera was just about as intelligible as a page of Arabic script. But it's delightful to be immersed in a completely different world, time and genre, and I look forward to going with Elisabetta to the premiere of Tosca at the Coliseum on Tuesday.
In our Idomeneo volume, there's a brilliant selection from the letters exchanged between Mozart and his father Leopold. I have always heard that Leopold was quite dispotic and "used" his son's talents for his own advantage and advancement. But reading these letters a complete different relationship seems to emerge, at least at the time of Idomeneo's composition. Leopold offers sound and practical compositional advice to the twenty-four-year-old exuberant genius, who responds with great brio and wit to his father's prompting.
There's many bits I loved, such as when Mozart says: "Tell me, don't you think the speech of the subterranean voice is too long? Consider it carefully . . . If the Ghost's speech in Hamlet weren't so long, it would be even more effective." Priceless.
But the passage I loved most is when Leopold says to his son: "I advise you when working on the score to consider not only the musical but also the unmusical public. You know that for every 10 real connoisseurs there are 100 ignoramuses. So don't forget what's called the popular style, which tickles long ears." Mozart was quick to pick on that and replied in this next letter: "As for what is called popular taste, don't worry, for my opera contains music for all kinds of people, not just for those with long ears."
It's particularly moving to read this exchange, as Idomeneo was only performed twice during the author's lifetime - although Mozart was always very attached to it - and it has been reappraised by critics as one of his masterpieces only in recent years. A sign that the Salzburg genius was not really writing for those "with long ears" . . .
AG
Reading the informative articles at the front of the book and working on the Thematic Guide, I realized how ignorant I am in terms of music. Julian Rushton's musical analysis of Mozart's opera was just about as intelligible as a page of Arabic script. But it's delightful to be immersed in a completely different world, time and genre, and I look forward to going with Elisabetta to the premiere of Tosca at the Coliseum on Tuesday.
In our Idomeneo volume, there's a brilliant selection from the letters exchanged between Mozart and his father Leopold. I have always heard that Leopold was quite dispotic and "used" his son's talents for his own advantage and advancement. But reading these letters a complete different relationship seems to emerge, at least at the time of Idomeneo's composition. Leopold offers sound and practical compositional advice to the twenty-four-year-old exuberant genius, who responds with great brio and wit to his father's prompting.
There's many bits I loved, such as when Mozart says: "Tell me, don't you think the speech of the subterranean voice is too long? Consider it carefully . . . If the Ghost's speech in Hamlet weren't so long, it would be even more effective." Priceless.
But the passage I loved most is when Leopold says to his son: "I advise you when working on the score to consider not only the musical but also the unmusical public. You know that for every 10 real connoisseurs there are 100 ignoramuses. So don't forget what's called the popular style, which tickles long ears." Mozart was quick to pick on that and replied in this next letter: "As for what is called popular taste, don't worry, for my opera contains music for all kinds of people, not just for those with long ears."
It's particularly moving to read this exchange, as Idomeneo was only performed twice during the author's lifetime - although Mozart was always very attached to it - and it has been reappraised by critics as one of his masterpieces only in recent years. A sign that the Salzburg genius was not really writing for those "with long ears" . . .
AG
Sunday, 9 May 2010
Unholy Awakening
I love looking at the NEW TITLES section in the Bookseller for inspiration, and this one really grabbed my attention:"Michael Gregorio, Unholy Awakening, to be published on 5th August by Faber
Fourth novel in the Hanno Stiffeniis series from the husband-and-wife writing team. In 19th-century Prussia corpses are turning up everywhere with their throats ripped out, and the blood drained from the body. People are whispering about vampires and Magistrate Stiffeniis must investigate."
Stephen Page told me they had banned vampires from their list – this one must have slipped through.
What is that noise, you ask? Nothing, just TS Eliot turning in his grave.
AG
Friday, 7 May 2010
Turi, Riva, Alma, Roma
Why are all good Italian things a four-letter word?
For a long time Turi on Putney High Street has been my Italian restaurant of choice. But many friends have often mentioned Riva in Barnes. It's only two or three miles from our office, but I had never been there until today. I had lunch there with Melissa Ulfane of Pushkin Press, who always initiates me to the most delightful places in London. Apart from its great, cosy atmosphere, the food was staggeringly good and simple. At least enough to impress a hardcore amateur cook like me. I'll be returning there many times.
But that will have to wait until I'm back from Italy. I miss my family and I miss Rome, Tivoli, Albano. I can't wait to get there – Icelandic volcano permitting. There's nothing like the pappardelle al sugo di lepre from the Cacciatori restaurant in Genzano – or Ariccia's porchetta – or the porcini bash you can have anywhere in Lariano – or the wine you can drink in any tavernetta in Frascati.
Oh well, my mouth's watering again. . .
AG
For a long time Turi on Putney High Street has been my Italian restaurant of choice. But many friends have often mentioned Riva in Barnes. It's only two or three miles from our office, but I had never been there until today. I had lunch there with Melissa Ulfane of Pushkin Press, who always initiates me to the most delightful places in London. Apart from its great, cosy atmosphere, the food was staggeringly good and simple. At least enough to impress a hardcore amateur cook like me. I'll be returning there many times.
But that will have to wait until I'm back from Italy. I miss my family and I miss Rome, Tivoli, Albano. I can't wait to get there – Icelandic volcano permitting. There's nothing like the pappardelle al sugo di lepre from the Cacciatori restaurant in Genzano – or Ariccia's porchetta – or the porcini bash you can have anywhere in Lariano – or the wine you can drink in any tavernetta in Frascati.
Oh well, my mouth's watering again. . .
AG
Thursday, 6 May 2010
Why Read the Classics
I have been dipping into Calvino’s Perché leggere i classici, which is little more than a clever marketing operation, as it consists of over thirty unrelated articles on European classics and introductions to various literary works, especially in translation.
The title piece of the collection is easily the most interesting, and it lists fourteen attempts at defining a “classic”. Since this is one of the questions I am most frequently asked as a publisher of classics, I found this article particularly engaging.
However, I agree with only a few of Calvino’s definitions. Who would subscribe, for example, to his claim that “the first reading of a classic is in fact a rereading”? It’s also a bit disappointing that he never gets round to answer the question in the title. The nearest he gets to this is towards the end of the article, when he says that “reading the classics is better than not reading the classics”. I have a feeling that such a generalization is bound to raise a few eyebrows today, especially in this country. It did raise mine – and I think of myself as a bit of classicist...
AG
The title piece of the collection is easily the most interesting, and it lists fourteen attempts at defining a “classic”. Since this is one of the questions I am most frequently asked as a publisher of classics, I found this article particularly engaging.
However, I agree with only a few of Calvino’s definitions. Who would subscribe, for example, to his claim that “the first reading of a classic is in fact a rereading”? It’s also a bit disappointing that he never gets round to answer the question in the title. The nearest he gets to this is towards the end of the article, when he says that “reading the classics is better than not reading the classics”. I have a feeling that such a generalization is bound to raise a few eyebrows today, especially in this country. It did raise mine – and I think of myself as a bit of classicist...
AG
Sunday, 2 May 2010
Reader's Anger
Over the last couple of weeks I've been reading Roal Dahl's The BFG and Charlie and the Chocolate Factory to my daughter Eleonora, and I found it infuriating how poor the typesetting and the editing was (not to mention the quality of the paper).
I mean, these are books that have been sold in their hundreds of thousands, if not in their millions, and reprinted umpteen times according to their copyright pages. Yet they are full of the ugliest orphans, widows and gappy lines, the narration is mangled by lazy repetitions, and there's even a few bad typos… Surely they receive letters, as we do, pointing out mistakes? Why didn't they bother to correct them in all these years? Grrrr… We deserve better...
AG
I mean, these are books that have been sold in their hundreds of thousands, if not in their millions, and reprinted umpteen times according to their copyright pages. Yet they are full of the ugliest orphans, widows and gappy lines, the narration is mangled by lazy repetitions, and there's even a few bad typos… Surely they receive letters, as we do, pointing out mistakes? Why didn't they bother to correct them in all these years? Grrrr… We deserve better...
AG
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