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ONLY SKY ABOVE MY HEAD OF HOUSE

E 'within a week, a full week in the Dolomites of Sesto.

soon I fled from the crowded ski runs, complicates the prohibitive cost of the ticket and my hunger for solitude.

Monday is a perfect day to start with: the frenzy of the weekend is gone and the sky can not see a cloud. I start from home, knowing only that I want to get to Prato Piazza and -10 ° will not be an obstacle.

The icy valley leading to the Bridge is not cooling my enthusiasm and I decide that I will go up from here to 600 meters up the plateau. I have to cover myself carefully and ignore the chill attacks the legs will do ten minutes at a good pace for me to take off his jacket and hat, and climb to altitude and the sun blinds me with a vague promise of warmth. Only a few rare long-distance runner I reach us with his smooth skating and I continue to go up to the flutter of a chickadee and ever-larger segments of blue. By conifers come off clouds of ice crystal, the shimmering ice-poor that digital can not capture, leaving only the magic of a memory.

The forest smells of snow and sun-warmed bark and there 'is no room for impatience arrival: the path is already perfection.

Turned up on the big bowl, not knowing what time it is sunny, some just arriving at home.

For these eyes are not enough spaces and the images do not tell the long wave of emotion that links the throat. Everything is white, soft and shiny. The plateau is a quilt of tiny meringue on glare and overhead sky there is only dense and unbounded. I continue walking towards the hut Vallandro face to the sun and slower breathing, feeling already the smell of hot food and relief to sit on a bench. Up there is the

Strudelkopf, which is not a cake but the South Tyrolean mountain species, overlooking a small snow dome the Three Peaks.
unexpected urgency drives me up there, and I discovered the well-beaten path that does not wait more than my feet. I drink and swallow a mouthful, but I'm not hungry or thirsty, and I just want to keep walking. Someone before me and the road is smooth and pitfalls. I do not have to walk: it is an air force that lifts me up, without sweat or effort. I wonder if I took some medication, but this is pure natural doping, the result of unparalleled enthusiasm.
scenarios change, the prospects are multiplying, but the panorama of the famous Three Peaks will not be visible until the end. The Cross is now at hand and now there is no one at the top. It 's a small peak, only 2300 meters, but what I see has a flavor of ice and heat, yet another wave that leads through the body without going through the mind.

eyes are not enough, not just the objective, not just the memory.

someone comes along to keep my smile and the pride of a discovery that I can not share with anyone. Return to Valley race, drunk white and blue, for long beams along the slopes of the Dürrenstein soft and dripping of a thaw. I'm tired, hungry and burned. I just feel like a Radler and a soup and a time to escape the glare blinding, mingling with the people and for little confused with the murmur of the refuge. I do not want to talk to anyone, but I need someone around to enjoy the recent privilege of solitude.

return to the valley until the sun starts to break and the snowy forest is turning gray. A Bridge there is nobody for half an hour and I still enjoy the expectation of my cozy room and a hot tea and a hot shower, which cease to be obvious, but again become privileges.
The others are returned from the slopes, justifiably proud of their achievements.

I pretend to get excited, but I'm not able to tell my day.

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SURPRISES

lunch together today.

The pleasure of seeing friends overlaps with the hope of a few hours outdoors, that today has finally ceased to pour.

Waiting to collect my thoughts after a week of mountain, there's a banal story Sunday in the city and how it can transform into a small adventure.

Lucinico A (3 km from Gorizia), you can easily arrive by car, bicycle and even walking, all alternatives have already been tried. But today, after ground an average of ten kilometers per day last week, I need something more from home leave on foot and arrive at their destination via Monte Calvario.

It takes me a moment to realize that, after only one week of absence, in the city Spring is upon us: the camellias in Via del Poggio have buds about to burst and Jasmine S. Joseph is now touching a sign that we have entered the era of snowdrops, primroses and crocuses.

The Horn is swollen with rain and gurgles before diving nell'Isonzo; does not stink now, but brings with it subtle air of mud and snow.

Rags to keep the clouds and the blue light, but spring, there is nothing to be done.

In a matter of minutes arrive at Piedimonte and in the small farming town gathered around the church attack me smells: the smell of soup, which escapes through the open windows in anticipation of Sunday lunch, the scent of sap from the cuts of a vine pergola , smell of mold and mud from the shady corners.

The trail starts just above the church, beside a swollen stream of water that flows downstream, and climbs up the slippery rain forest of acacia trees and bushes. Still intense smell of damp earth and Wildlife Service, and then an explosion of hellebores next to a solitary votive chapel.

I'm far away from everything, in a surreal silence.

up the hill there are only supported recent footprints of deer and wild boar rooting, holly bushes and oak leaves rotting on the ground. When

top of the hill, the valley opens up and I do not know where I do not see the stone of Calvary, but I sense that I have to go straight to the south. The encounter with the road marks the return in the known world. From now on it will only drop and a path to the family vineyards and cultivated fields. The stream overflows and floods the street, with a sound that speaks of green and warmth, while the buzzards circling hopeful looking for a partner.

Today you can do without any thing that is needed is all in an hour and a half hours alone.

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Ice Princess and savory strudel

UhUhUh! What a disappointment!

not spend € 18.50 per heavy "the new Agatha Christie Sweden: Ice Princess Camilla Lackberg (Marsilio Butterfly) is a galactic ravanare! Following the success dell'osannato Larsson, the Scandinavian crime writers have flourished as lichens in the contemporary literary scene but, believe me, because I have dozens of ground, a few were able to escape mediocrity. Six in the

Mankell prolific, which is not surprising, but not without trade, seven to Larsson, who is an honest journalist, although capable of superb plots, but excellence is only Icelandic Indridasson: crisp and composed in writing, I find it an exceptional performer desolation of the Arctic island of ice. The others do not reach enough.

Lackberg And, among all, he gets a three final. Boring

the edge of the soporific, shuffle insipid dialogue and characters that define discount is an understatement. 458 pages of platitudes, without a single twist worthy of spending. If you have bought, bad for you. If he had the intention, give up, unless you need sleeping pills and the doctor refuses to prescribe.

Well, today I am disappointed and a bit pissed off, so I go into the kitchen and groped to forget the last hours of pain costs.

A chicken breast and some bunch of radicchio peep waiting for redemption, and I pick up the challenge: salty strudel tonight, but my way.

hate the pastry: it is always too greasy and stuffed with wet ingredients, remains soggy after cooking forno.Quindi a robust, long live the strudel and pies, but with the crust! After a solid experience, to do it by hand takes 10 minutes, and is an investment on their manual worth: with simple ingredients that we all have in the pantry, you invent a dish of effect that can resolve an emergency. A couple of ounces of flour on a pastry piled with a good pinch of salt, one egg, and (alas) a good pound of cold butter chopped. It mixes quickly, helping the top with a knife, preventing heat the mixture, which otherwise tends to "burn" and to harden. If the mixture so requires, should be added sparingly, a little cold water until dough is elastic and compact. The ball is then covered with plastic wrap and stuck it in the refrigerator until the filling is ready.

The usual fried slow and patient time should be made with 3 or 4 shallots, sweeter and more delicate and cooked before, but you usually onion, provided it is treated with all the trappings, ie without EVER burn, otherwise it becomes bitter. To advanced stage of cooking, say half an hour later, add the shallots radicchio (a good clump is sufficient) is reduced to pieces, thinner at the base and a little wider towards the tip. It takes about ten minutes we spend in a little oil for browning chicken breast half, diced regular. Climb both ingedienti and assemble them, giving them a few moments of intimacy because they learn to know each other. Turn oven to 180 degrees.

Now it takes a bit of sauce. Yes, I know it's already a while that spignattiamo, but a few tablespoons of binder is needed, and I promise I will take only few minutes: a large knob of butter is melted up to sizzle, throw two large tablespoons of flour, which absorbs suddenly the fat and cake in a flash. Be careful not to burn, stirring vigorously and without losing the government of the situation, pour the milk, beginning a short time, leaving absorb before adding the other. You must achieve a soft mass without lumps (only if you were patient and constant in the mix vigorously with the whip!) the consistency of a liquid cream. It is not necessary to wait for 20 minutes to cook the flour canonical (otherwise indigestible) because there will be complete in the oven and cooking. Just add salt and chicken and radicchio, creamy giving everything, without exaggerating the amount: the result will be a compound bound and creamy, but not liquid.

regained the ball of crust, we're going to smatterellarla quickly without heating up a nice piece of floured parchment paper, creating an elongated and thin to get a strudel. Now just place the mixture and close the dough, sealing the edges with a layer of water that acts as glue. Since we have worked on the card, just transfer everything to the pan and then straight into the oven for half an hour, checking that it gets too dark.

Then let it rest quietly and do not cut it before it's warm, so the filling is more compact. The bitterness of radicchio

enhances the sweetness and texture of the chicken pieces, linked by soft cream and shallot sauce, pasta crust is firm but not cloying as the pastry.

short, a triumph of flavors and textures, perfect for Lackberg forget Camilla and her literary abominations!

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CHICORY AND LENTILS

post title that seems to be a film of Toto!
free afternoon today, spent between the end of "Death follows the Magi" by Hans Tuzzi and maintaining one of those meals that warm the heart on a cold day in February. Just finished the last page, are already in withdrawal symptoms. Tuzzi moves in a Milan of the eighties, completely foreign to the "Milano to drink." Is fueled by artistic and literary quotations that have nothing to "read", but instead present fully embedded in a narrative that runs through the world of art collecting. The Commissioner Melis Milan is a city and gloomy painful, softened by regret for the protagonist's old restaurants with home cooking and the lost splendor of the palaces Umbertine, now colonized by the new financial powers. The plot is solid, the characters believable and well delineated. Yellow is an excuse to talk about other things, but stand up to the end and goes to a gallery of emotions and genuine poetry.
close the last page and I say, and now what? Are orphaned again, as every time I finish a powerful book leaves more questions than answers and suggestions. Hans Bravissimo!
to ward off the anxiety, I invent a dinner that warms the limbs and heart. I received a gift of a bag of lentils regardless of S. Stefano di Sessanio: people who love the genre, he knows that they are "the" lentils, then, get set, go!
A nice fry onions should be done as it should, following the dictates of Allan Bay: almost an hour of slow cooking with a couple of tablespoons of extra virgin olive oil to defeat the tough fiber of the onion and turn it into a soft, sweet mass translucent . I added half a bottle of tomato sauce but good quality industrial and chopped rosemary, sage and fresh thyme (blessed garden!), Salt and pepper and, finally, the proud, tiny rusty lentils (250 grams) hot water to reach a very soupy consistency, and then to cook slowly half-way. After another hour (to peek past the first pages of the next literary adventure), and the soup is cooked. The rest, searching through the shelves of the refrigerator another idea to complete the dinner. Two heads of radicchio, gorgonzola and walnuts: there is not much reason for a dish that, with so little, it becomes almost opulent. The clumps and divide them into two browned in a pan for a few minutes with a little olive oil and a nibble of salt, softens gorgonzola (must be sweet and not spicy to dampen the bitterness of the radicchio) and reduces the walnuts coarsely . I then seared radicchio in a baking dish, the stuffing with plenty of blue cheese, buried under the ribs of the vegetables and sprinkle with crushed walnut, a little oil and go in the oven to 160 degrees, covered with a sheet of parchment paper.
I spent twenty minutes I spend in order to continue reading "The prompter," the first substantial work of Carroll, which a colleague told me a lot of good. Dinner
no smell of vegetables and flavors are simple but well-defined, as the night drew up a blue blanket of dirty snow still on the roads.