Uniting Nations, One Fried Food at a Time...

Yesterday, Giovanna rushed through the door from an afternoon of errands delivering "great news!" She was beaming as she unveiled two very large packages containing at least thirty chicken legs. "You will make fried chicken for Giulio's birthday party tonight!"

{Let me back up. During one particular dinner conversation regarding Benito's euphoric experience over a bucket of KFC chicken during their time in the States, I made the mistake of suggesting that if he liked the fast food version, then he'd love my mom's homemade recipe. Subsequently, the topic of me frying chicken for them has been brought up on a daily basis ever since...to the point where they have invited friends to come enjoy this future feast I would prepare. Somehow, something was lost in translation.}

Upon hearing yesterday's "great news," I made a conscious effort to control my ever-expressive face and seem as genuinely pleased as possible. Not long after, Italian mothers were filing into the house to drop off their kids. This is easily an hour long ordeal...at least. Just as the moms were expressing their jealousy that I also cooked for the family, Giovanna was quick to correct, "Well, we don't know yet!" I tried hard to ignore my loud, gawking audience as I set up my cooking station at the stove. If you have ever cooked with me...well, you haven't. I am much like my mother in this respect: I work best alone. Maybe it was the closet-sized kitchen in my old Lexington apartment last year that really brought this truth to light, but I need mah space to do mah thang.

Well mama, against all odds, I hope I did you proud. Your famous fried chicken has made its way into the hearts and bellies of seven Italians here in Rome. Even the pickiest eaters of the bunch became barbaric over the fried feast, insisting on scalding their tongues and fingers instead of waiting for the meat to cool. Aside from burning the crust, you really can't go wrong when you batter fry in oil and smother in salt, and my willing Roman guinea pigs agree! I am scheduled to make another batch for relatives in Umbria this weekend and again in Naples.

Benito on his second of four pieces. I think you'd get along with him, dad.

Fried food project #2 in less than 24 hours. This time, I was put on breakfast committee per Giulio's request. Naturally, it was chocolate chip pancakes, a Saturday staple in the Meyer household. 

Despite the lack of maple syrup, we still fared well with a variety of other yummy toppings including honey, homemade jam, nutella, butter, and powdered sugar. Another hit. Clogging Italian arteries in the name of America.