Lemon Delicious

Pockets of earth housed in the ancient walls of forgotten villas, bed lemon groves, abandoned to themselves in the heart of Positano.

Smells are so evocative. Oregano reminds me of my grand-mother. Herbal shampoo takes me back to our beach house in Australia. But basil and lemons are the smell of Positano.

The Amalfi Coast is Lemons.

One is inextricably linked to the other.

They do so well in the climate, that often there is a surplus notwithstanding the numerous creative uses that the locals have invented.

Granita (lemon ice) spikes iced teas on the beach, homemade (or not) volatile Limoncello is offered gratuitously at restaurants as a digestive after the meals, and rice, fish, pasta and desserts al limone abound.

Delizia al Limone is a typical dessert on the Coast of a sponge cake soaked in the liqueur then covered in a lemon cream.
Their images decorate plates, ceramics and house numbers; they share their names with hotels and houses in the area.
They are sold to tourists as an over sized novelty on road side stands and are recently even made into natural soaps by Saponissimo.

In our gardens, the lemon trees are trimmed and tied pergola style.

This way, the roots are shaded by the foliage, the lemons are within arms reach and they can be covered in winter by a strong net which protects them against the fierce Tramontana wind which can strip their leaves in a matter of hours.
The icy wind coming down the mountain, swirls along the walls and tunnels in stair wells creating havoc in our gardens which are particularly exposed to the elements but strangely enough, sparing those alongside the house or below us.

We planted a tree of a different variety for each of our children when they were born, and when they were young they delighted in picking the lemons off their tree and showing me proudly.

'Make Lemon Delicious Mum' would soon follow, if they didn't eat the lemon there and then !

Lemon Delicious is an old fashioned light self-saucing dessert pudding which I often make, but use untreated lemons if you don't have them in your garden.

Lemon Delicious

grated rind of 1 lemon
60g softened butter
3/4 cups of Castor sugar
3 eggs separated
3 tablespoons of sifted flour
1/4 cup of lemon juice
1/4 cup of orange juice
1/2 cup of milk
icing sugar for dusting

Cream butter sugar and lemon rind. Add egg yolks one at a time. Mix well. Add flour and mix in. Mix liquids together then stir in . Beat egg whites till stiff then fold into mixture.
Put into a shallow 4 cup oven dish. Set dish in a pan of boiling water (to come up halfway up the dish). Bake for 45minutes in a slow oven (170. F) or until the top is firm.
Dust with icing sugar then serve hot.

Serves 4 -6.

Pearl of the Amalfi Coast ? Send us Obama !

There were two articles in Positano News today which made my hackles rise.

The first regards the state of the road that goes through the town of Positano.
Via Pasitea is the only road to wind its way down through the town and connects with the state road at both ends. It is a one way road.

Recently a water pipe was reported leaking half way down the hill, but attempts to repair it were only started yesterday. After the heavy rain during the night, the already soaked area under the road gave way and rocks and debris were washed in a land slide onto the connecting footpath and stairs which lead to Via Fornillo damaging the paths and the gardens below.

Now this shortcut between the road and Via Fornillo is my favourite path to take, as I prefer not to walk along the road laden with shopping bags. It was very lucky that no one was passing at that moment and that the ambulance normally parked in that spot, was elsewhere.

The Council has equally been ignoring our requests to repair and maintain the sewerage pipes alongside our house for years, doing only salutary patching which doesn't last the season. Puddles of dirty water have ruined retaining walls and killed centenary trees. Cracked brick work comes away from the garden and we need to plant canes to stop the soil from eroding completely. The house is sitting on a high land slide risk area of Positano. What will it take for them to react?

The second article was submitted by a local and deplored the state or rather non existence of postal delivery in Nocelle, Montepertuso and the top areas of Positano. The delegated postman has gone on holiday and no one thought to replace him. The new Director when confronted said that there was nothing he could do about it as it depended on the Maiori head office to send another ! Can you believe it?

The Positano News wondered how these things can happen in the Pearl of the Amalfi Coast. I think that that term Pearl needs to be rethought...

Nocelle - The Sounds of Silence.

Are you sick of the cold ? Let me heat you up a touch.

It's high summer. I decide to go for a late afternoon trip to the village of Nocelle in the mountains above Positano, to catch the last rays of sun long after Positano sits in the shade.

The bus from Positano to Nocelle quickly fills with sticky bodies scantily clad in after-beach wear and after the main Mulini bus stop it is impossible to fit anyone else on. The bus driver begs anyone not going as far as Montepertuso to wait for the next bus, but very few people condescend to his requests.

It sets off immediately, winding along the sinewy bends, windows thrown open to let a minimum of fresh air in.

A Spanish couple standing crushed above my seat ask if the bus is stopping at Montepertuso in broken Italian. They want to dine at Donna Rosa where Jamie Oliver gave rave reviews. I'm sitting on the mountain side as the curves sweep past, and cannot tell how far we've gone as the mass of people in the bus block my view. It's hard to tell how far up the mountain you are just by looking at the battered cars sitting snugly in their roadside spot against the cliff. Some have been there a long time, the fact that they are covered in brambles a testimony.

Positano nestled in the shade

Finally we arrive at the bifurcation at Montepertuso which I was looking for, and I tell the Spanish couple to get off. Fortunately more than three quarters of the passengers gets off with them and we are less than a dozen to continue on to Nocelle.

Many years ago, my first excursion to Nocelle was in September. We had caught the bus to Montepertuso but for the rest of the way we had had to walk as the road didn't yet reach the tiny mountain town. I had gone with my then -to -be -husband on the romantic path above the mountain gorge.

I remember the welcome we had got at the village on our arrival, as many recognized him and the fritatta con cipolle which we had had at the only trattoria in the place with an incredible view. 'Bellonia' now gone, was the buxom lady who prepared the meal and she had a fearsome deep voice. If you wanted to eat anything else you had to order it beforehand otherwise it was just make do with what was available from her garden. We had taken the stairs down the mountain all the way to Positano in the early evening and I had fallen in love with the place.

Praiano in the distance

This time I arrived with some of my children but no husband in tow as he was meeting us later.

The reception was all together different. As soon as the locals has disappeared into their homes a heavy silence befell the village. We entered almost as if we were trespassing. I felt as if we should be on tiptoe so as not to disturb.

There was an elderly lady who had come to her door to inspect the newcomers arriving with the bus and she gave us a buona sera. On our way back, she was seated on a kitchen chair outside her front door on the lane with two others chatting. The rest of the place was deserted. The tiny piazza with its breathtaking views to rival Ravello and its shade tree was all for us. Even a whisper sounded too loud.

Eventually modern technology caught up with the silence and a deafening mechanical contraption for bringing goods up stairs broke the peace. A wife and husband made several trips up stairs from the device to their car, both equally laden with heavy boxes on their heads carrying the freshest vegetables I have ever seen in Positano straight from their garden.

A cross on the tip of the mountain

The mountains seem to churn out hard working people. 'Angelo' was our postman from Nocelle for many years. He would walk down along the 1700 proclaimed steps to Positano everyday from the mountain; do the rounds of Positano delivering mail on the endless staircases with a towel draped around his neck with which to wipe the sweat in the heat, then return home in the late afternoon to tend his garden. This was in the days when the road didn't reach the village !

We take the easy way back and wait for the bus, the sun still lingering on the mountain top.

Peace and Joy

As Christmas hits my home town in Australia,
I'd like to wish you all a very Merry Christmas and a New Year full of good health and happiness.

Thank you for being so encouraging !

Getting things into Perspective.

I have had more than my fair share of wallowing in self-centered pity these last few months as the nightmarish quality to this year, where I lost my mother to breast cancer and had my father lose a kidney to cancer, has taken a recent plunge in what feels like the descent to hell.

Everything happens for a reason I try to tell myself, and as my own health suffers too, I try to look at the whole picture rather than concentrating on the negative. But it's not easy.

I came across a post the other day where they asked themselves where they'd rather be.

I'm in Luxembourg at the moment but I'd rather be in Positano.

If I was in Positano it would mean that I could concentrate on the holidays.

Christmas would be by the roaring fireplace lit only if the breeze came from the sea and not from the mountain. A breeze, even slight one, from the wrong direction, means a room full of billowing smoke because the fireplace, it seems, was built more for esthetics's than practicality.

An oversized fresh pine cone, closed unto itself would release the scent of incense as it warmed the resin amongst the woody petals. After hours of sitting prettily next to the embers like a closed flower bud, it's petals would slowly unfurl and open to the pine nut treasures under each one. With a nut cracker or even a hammer to split the nut, we would expose the tender kernel . It's a tedious job but there would not be much else to do to while away the time.

We would buy the small parcels of lemon leaves dried and tied with a raffia string. Leaf by dried leaf the handcrafted parcel would be opened to get to the contents inside. The layers removed revealed the dried raisins, candied Cedro (lemon) and candied orange peel which had taken on the perfume of the leaves in which they were wrapped and dried. All locally grown.

Split chestnuts , would of course sit on the coals in their rusty holed pan, passed down from the war times, roasting away with the occasional pop and splutter from fresher logs.

In winter, the house is not heated. We transfer a small table into the sitting room, put sand filled snakes under the doors to block the drafts and eat and live in front of the fire.

The house is at it's iciest in the mornings, so sweaters are pulled over our night clothes before we come down for breakfast.

Oranges from the garden abound and fresh juice is always present. Smaller oranges are carefully spiked with cloves and set in strategic places to waft their perfume our way. Mandarins imitate their parent trees in the gardens as they bend the boughs of a the small Christmas tree set on a table in the corner.

We have a sort of sun room coming off the terrace and welcome the pink sunrise over the edge of Praiano in winter because it means that we might go outside and warm ourselves up soon, as well as open all the doors and windows to dry the mustiness inside.

Salsicci (Italian sausages) with fennel seeds prepared lovingly by Carlo our butcher in Positano, would feature heavily in our menu there, accompanied by cime di rape or bitter broccoli lightly boiled then sauteed in light olive oil with garlic and peperoncino.

Le zeppole, a specialty at Positano of sweet fried dough with sultanas, orange and lemon peel drizzled with local acacia honey would arrive from well wishers by the plate full, and figs dried during summer and stuffed with chocolate and nuts before soaking in liqueur would be the after dinner delight.

Sun lit walks on abandoned beaches in the afternoon with the smell of wood smoke in the alleys on our return would be all the exercise we'd need after meals. No worrying about fighting crowds in department stores or negotiating icy roads.

I really wish I was there.

My husband read an article in the paper about the Maldives slowly disappearing and said haven't you always wanted to visit there? I answered that I'm so unlucky lately, that the Maldives would probably disappear under a tsunami because I went there.

My eight year old son piped up " But you are lucky Mum , you have me. No one else has me !"

I really am blessed.

Bring Italy to your Christmas!

Christmas is just around the corner. For those who haven't yet thought of gifts for family and friends, I have some suggestions from two expat blogger friends in my part of the world whose creativity and resourcefulness has resulted in exceptional products for luxuriating and dreaming without breaking the budget.

The Amalfi Coast, as any of you who have been here will know, is a place which touches your soul.
It's brilliant colours, dramatic coastline and genuine down to earth products made with the traditional methods are a way of life here.
Nicki, who many of you will recognize from her blog, has created beautiful, handcrafted soaps which would look divine in your bathroom from the natural local products in the area. The colours reflect the ocean, the gelato coloured houses and the rocky mountain morphology. They are a feast for your eyes and your skin.

Take a look for yourself at Saponissimo: Etsy for the States and Dawanda for Europe.
You won't regret it!


South of Rome is a newly discovered blog for me by a fair lady who moved to Naples from Sicily.
The blog is well worth visiting and informative with gorgeous pictures as is her published book In Etna's Shadow just recently available on Amazon. For all you lovers of Italy's largest island, this is a travel book with a culinary twist to treasure. Karen offers a discount if you order from her blog. Do drop by and see what she has to offer for yourselves.

A Congratulations to both Nicki and Karen !

All that you can't leave behind...

Just look at the bounty from our garden.

Our wanderings to and thro from Italy, inevitably involve foodstuffs from the garden, who's weight in a sore arm and hand luggage sometimes outdoes that of their taste, especially if they are slightly out of season. But we just can't leave them behind to rot in the soil.

While we are in Positano in autumn, resounding thumps in the garden announce the demise of yet other melon-sized grapefruits, that have lost their precarious hold on the tree and have fallen dizzying heights from one terraced garden to another, landing on the lawn the equivalent of four storeys below.

Out comes the juicer, struggling with the segments containing four to six pips apiece and requiring the courage of a hardened gladiator to drink. I watch my fifteen year old son and his father try the juice, placing them together in front of me so I can see their reactions. My son downs it in one gulp before his taste buds try to send a 'no go' sign to his instincts. Two seconds pass before a involuntary grimace masks his features and his eyes redden. My other half is a veteran at bitter-grapefruit-juice-sipping, boasting that he had one everyday he was in Positano. But still his eyes stream and his face contorts. These grapefruit are bitter to end all bitter, guaranteeing to suck your cheeks in and grow hairs on your chest.

The mandarines, on the other hand, are to die for. Such is their perfume on breaking open the skin, that I can't waste it and make delicious marmalade to spread on my croissants in the morning. The oranges, still slightly under ripe, get a similar treatment and the tangy perfume of cooking jams fills the house that day. I cover the top of the jam with half a spoon of Grand Marnier before sealing the lid on the jars and will wait a few weeks for the taste to infuse the jam before consuming it.

A Grape Harvest Cake makes the most of the last bunch of home grown table grapes, using the untreated lemon and orange peel from the garden, and even the flowers stalks from the basil are put to use in sauces and soups because of their strong flavour.

Come to think of it, the sore arm was probably worth it's weight in gold...

Did you spot the punk orange?