I went out with T. to fish, the sea was good. On rocks near the small port there are a few cormorants and gulls, silent and austere as creatures of patrol, guarding imaginary. The sea is a table, you can hear the octopus that spring is approaching and you a line and sneaking a few fish that nibbles at the bait and then run away. I tried to take some photos but it is difficult to make decent with the boat in full swing.
The sea I help thinking, not so much because of distarre attention, because of the sewage at a certain point.
I'm learning to fish, fishing tackle, because I do have apnea and I manage quite. T says it damn well I can stand the sea.
My mother was a great fisher of sea urchins and octopus, despite his grandfather was contrarissimo for the position because of family and somehow did not think it suited him to his daughter. I say that it was an excellent angler, because now there is more.
My great grandmother was a true legend, at least from the stories that come to my ear.
She was excellent and well-off family, but with quirks and contemptuous decreed that the art of amiable irrationality led to disagreements with her husband alternately serious and aloof. My great grandmother G. you forward into the water, covered by the long and cumbersome "dressed as a bathroom, in the mouth with the knife between his teeth, then placid sat on a rock a few feet from the shore and began to search through the grooves, only with hands . and with the knife.
My great grandmother was a true legend, at least from the stories that come to my ear.
She was excellent and well-off family, but with quirks and contemptuous decreed that the art of amiable irrationality led to disagreements with her husband alternately serious and aloof. My great grandmother G. you forward into the water, covered by the long and cumbersome "dressed as a bathroom, in the mouth with the knife between his teeth, then placid sat on a rock a few feet from the shore and began to search through the grooves, only with hands . and with the knife.
After a few minutes, get up into a bundle the skirt, where he had placed his haul of fish, the need for a delicious soup. was a woman with a strong will and a spirit stones as light as air.
Pesco and pull up slowly, I think if anything, from generation to generation, has been left to me, the spark of a memory, a small particle of wood.
OCTOPUS WITH CELERY AND BLACK OLIVE
500 g octopus
2 liomoni
a beautiful celery
half cup of black olives
oregano
extra virgin olive oil salt pepper
Boil the octopus with not a lot of water (mother of Babette docet: "The octopus is cooked with water his own ") and if my parents were very big mezzanetti can boil will kill you without bothering to first cut into pieces after cooking because it is nice to tender.
arrived cooked (you do the test with a fork) drain, let cool and cut into pieces, placing them in a bowl and adding the tasty black olives. In a nice large cup chopped garlic and some olive oil and the oregano leaves, chopped celery. Go and add the chopped celery to the pan with the octopus and black olives. Grated rind of one lemon and the other half-moon slices of ricavatevi to garnish. Add the cup of the sauce and the zest and garnish.
Each crescent a bridge linking a memory for life.
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