Cenone e Capodanno 2012 Si Mangia Bene
In a flash 2011 ended for me. Last year was packed with so many important moments and milestones and it all seems to have flashed passed in 10 minutes rather than 365 days. This is my 3rd New Years in Italy with the man and I loved it. New Years makes me reflect on the past, and I am not nostalgic! The last time I had New Years alone (2008-2009), I ate a frozen Kashi dinner, put on my new PJs and took the elevator up to the penthouse floor with Bentley to watch the fireworks at midnight from the window by the elevator. Bentley loves fireworks, his eyes get huge. I remember the doorman, George, was there too and told me with his scratchy smokers voice in his thick Balmor (Baltimore) accent when the fireworks were done, "Well that's that, I guess. Ima have me a Natty Boh bir (beer) n a bit. You go on and have a good New Year, Hon." So depressing... However, this year with so much going on, I wasn't ready for the end of the year, but it came anyway and with so much happiness, food and fun as well!
We had a very small party and food to feed an army. I had the honor of having a secret 5 star chef come and cook for us. This guy is the best cook in town, in the world, in my opinion. He lives a double life, one appearing as a normal nice guy and then he enters the realm of culinary magic as a spectacular chef. No one could tell by looking at him that he has these amazing cooking skills. And I am glad they are concealed or I would have to beat the ladies off of him. (note: the way to a woman's heart is also through her stomach). If there were a cooking competition lined up between him, my grandma, my mom and even his mom...he would win, hands down. I would even bet to bring out my cousin who is a professionally trained 5 star chef in Germany...and my money would still bet on the undercover chef. He cooks creatively, fast, and can whip out a lavish meal out of nowhere.
So, on December 31 the undercover chef knocked the secret knock on the door, entered the kitchen and started chopping, sizzling and frying for the Cenone, meaning HUGE dinner. Here, in Italy, the end of the year is traditionally celebrated with the biggest meal of the year (as if it could outweigh Christmas, but it does). You start eating at 6 PM and end around 2 AM is the tradition. But, we decided to cut corners and end eating around 11. That is still 5 hours of pigging out that I have just recovered from. I assisted the chef in grocery shopping but when it came time to cooking I got out of the way. That is what you do with a chef. If you don't want to get fussed at, have your feet stepped on or mess his rhythm up, you have to get out of the way or hustle obediently and quietly when you help. That is something I learned working for a family restaurant: all the chefs were beasts in the kitchen, they produced tantalizing dishes but if you got in the way may heaven help your poor soul! I have seen chefs throw and brake plates, furiously slam hamburgers on the wall, tear a fish in half and stomp out of the kitchen throwing their apron down on the ground...the works, screaming with red faces and usually just because someone messed with their rhythm. Screaming is useless but hearing some one scream about a sauce or veggies is hilarious. It is funny, but you can only laugh if they don't see you. But our undercover chef just sighs loudly if anyone gets under his feet or in the way. The table settings were left up to me and that was it. I was then able to skip about and shred papers that I no longer need the following year (every archivists dream NYE).
BUT! Before he started the main cooking there was a very important thing to do...under the cover of darkness...Fireworks! We packed the colorful explosives into a pastry box to conceal them, tip-toed out of the house with that in one hand and the other on garbage bags and ran straight into our animal loving neighbor. She sighed sadly and told us that she took her dog to her parents just in case any rascals started exploding fireworks that would scare her dog. Ahem...her dog is from Naples, I'm sure he has heard fireworks before and loved them. I smiled and nodded understandingly, while the chef stifled a laugh. We then kept going, tossed the trash and ran into the dark field next to the trash to do the job. I stood back while he set them off, they were beautiful, big and loud and I'm glad he returned with all hands, fingers and toes:
As we returned things began to sizzle in the kitchen.
So for our Cenone we had...a lot of courses. Here is the menu as I don't take it for granted, was super impressed, and am not sure this will ever happen again. I loved it so much I had to document it. Mama and Daddy, I get fed well.
Our dinner was based off of seafood, which is typical for New Years Eve, especially in southern Italy. It made me want to sing, so here is my song for New Years, in Italian, since I am happy to be part of this world:
We had a very small party and food to feed an army. I had the honor of having a secret 5 star chef come and cook for us. This guy is the best cook in town, in the world, in my opinion. He lives a double life, one appearing as a normal nice guy and then he enters the realm of culinary magic as a spectacular chef. No one could tell by looking at him that he has these amazing cooking skills. And I am glad they are concealed or I would have to beat the ladies off of him. (note: the way to a woman's heart is also through her stomach). If there were a cooking competition lined up between him, my grandma, my mom and even his mom...he would win, hands down. I would even bet to bring out my cousin who is a professionally trained 5 star chef in Germany...and my money would still bet on the undercover chef. He cooks creatively, fast, and can whip out a lavish meal out of nowhere.
So, on December 31 the undercover chef knocked the secret knock on the door, entered the kitchen and started chopping, sizzling and frying for the Cenone, meaning HUGE dinner. Here, in Italy, the end of the year is traditionally celebrated with the biggest meal of the year (as if it could outweigh Christmas, but it does). You start eating at 6 PM and end around 2 AM is the tradition. But, we decided to cut corners and end eating around 11. That is still 5 hours of pigging out that I have just recovered from. I assisted the chef in grocery shopping but when it came time to cooking I got out of the way. That is what you do with a chef. If you don't want to get fussed at, have your feet stepped on or mess his rhythm up, you have to get out of the way or hustle obediently and quietly when you help. That is something I learned working for a family restaurant: all the chefs were beasts in the kitchen, they produced tantalizing dishes but if you got in the way may heaven help your poor soul! I have seen chefs throw and brake plates, furiously slam hamburgers on the wall, tear a fish in half and stomp out of the kitchen throwing their apron down on the ground...the works, screaming with red faces and usually just because someone messed with their rhythm. Screaming is useless but hearing some one scream about a sauce or veggies is hilarious. It is funny, but you can only laugh if they don't see you. But our undercover chef just sighs loudly if anyone gets under his feet or in the way. The table settings were left up to me and that was it. I was then able to skip about and shred papers that I no longer need the following year (every archivists dream NYE).
BUT! Before he started the main cooking there was a very important thing to do...under the cover of darkness...Fireworks! We packed the colorful explosives into a pastry box to conceal them, tip-toed out of the house with that in one hand and the other on garbage bags and ran straight into our animal loving neighbor. She sighed sadly and told us that she took her dog to her parents just in case any rascals started exploding fireworks that would scare her dog. Ahem...her dog is from Naples, I'm sure he has heard fireworks before and loved them. I smiled and nodded understandingly, while the chef stifled a laugh. We then kept going, tossed the trash and ran into the dark field next to the trash to do the job. I stood back while he set them off, they were beautiful, big and loud and I'm glad he returned with all hands, fingers and toes:
 |
| Getting the fireworks ready |
 |
| Dolce Natale box hiding our fireworks |
As we returned things began to sizzle in the kitchen.
So for our Cenone we had...a lot of courses. Here is the menu as I don't take it for granted, was super impressed, and am not sure this will ever happen again. I loved it so much I had to document it. Mama and Daddy, I get fed well.
Our dinner was based off of seafood, which is typical for New Years Eve, especially in southern Italy. It made me want to sing, so here is my song for New Years, in Italian, since I am happy to be part of this world:
Cenone!
Antipasto: Appetizers
Insalata di Mare
Insalata di Avocado con tonno e noci (loved this, it reminded me of something more Californian than Italian)
Gamberetti
Cozze al Vapore
 |
| Avocado with tuna salad and nuts |
 |
| Under the sea with giant shrimp |
 |
| Yum |
Primo: First dish
Penne con Cozze in Succo di Pomodoro con un po di Tequila.
Secondo: Second dish
Pesce Bianco(some fish of whose name I no longer remeber, the wine effect, but it was heavy and good)
 |
| Before |
 |
| After |
Contorno: side dish
Patatine fritte (he makes things that make me smile)
Formaggio e Frutta: cheese and fruit
Rosa Camuna
Calciocavallo
Parmigiano Reggiano
Mandarine
Noci di Sorrento
Dolce: Dessert
Tiramisu (that I made)
Crostatine di Ciliegia (cherry tarts)
Digestivo:
Tequila
Sambucca
I'm happy that things went so smoothly and beautifully. And just to keep things real and my feet firmly on the ground, Bentley hacked a hairball first thing on January 1st then knocked over my mop bucket full of water while I was cleaning. Sweet. Thinking positively, at least he is hairball free now and my floor got extra clean.
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