In December most households in Italy set up their presepe, or nativity scene. The basic parts are the stable or manger, with figures of Mary, Joseph, the baby Jesus, the donkey and the ox. Many people expand the scene with depictions of village life, the shepherds and the three wise men. Traditionally the presepe is set up on December 8th and taken down after the feast of the Epiphany on January 6th. The first recreations of nativity scenes date back to early medieval times with the “father” of the presepe commonly considered St. Francis of Assisi who set up such a nativity scene in 1223 in order to represent the Christmas story visually for the great majority of people who could not read. There are many carved nativity scenes that are famous in art history such as the one by Arnolfo da Cambio (1289) in the Basilica of Santa Maria Maggiore in Rome. The city often associated with the presepe is Naples where artists and artisans have a history dating to Baroque times of creating detailed and fantastical carved representations of the nativity. Some examples of Neapolitan nativity figures can be seen at the Metropolitan Museum until January 7th.
The moka stove-top coffee pot is the standard in almost all Italian households for making coffee. It is instantly recognizable for its octagonal shape, usually aluminium, and black bakelite handle. It was first conceived of in 1933 by Alfonso Bialetti who was inspired by watching his wife do laundry in a machine called a lisciveuse that used the same concept of heating water and forcing it through a tube. In the moka, water is put into the bottom of the coffee pot, then a filter, which fits into this bottom, is filled with finely ground coffee and the empty top is screwed onto the bottom of the pot. As the water heats, it is forced through the coffee filter and, under pressure, it slowly fills the top part of the pot with a strong brew similar to espresso, often also with a crema. The moka comes in different sizes, the two-cup pot probably being the most common. This common kitchen object is an icon of Italian industrial design and is featured in the collections of museums world-wide.
A recent New York Times article as a comic strip was a reminder of a classic Italian dessert – trite, ubiquitous, yet delicious – the tartufo. Tartufo means “truffle” and when you look at this chocolate and ice cream confection you can understand the resemblance. The article describes the tartufo as a maraschino cherry surrounded by a half chocolate, half vanilla ice cream ball, the whole of which is encased in a chocolate shell. There are of course many variations on the ice cream, including fruit flavors. My memory of the tartufo at the Tre Scalini in Piazza Navona is of a pure chocolate bomb. The original is said to be the tartufo di Pizzo, in Calabria. This is generally hazelnut ice-cream surrounding a core of chocolate ganache. The whole thing is then rolled in cocoa powder and frozen. In general if you can find a non-industrial, locally-made version, it’s a great treat and totally worth the caloric splurge!
Several years ago Maurizio De Giovanni wrote a giallo featuring a motley collection of police officers based in a Neapolitan questura – the fictional Pizzofalcone. Thus, a series was born. The cases that are dealt with often reflect real events or societal issues but the best part is following the lives of the principal characters. The protagonist is Ispettore Giuseppe Lojacono, a divorced father of a somewhat rebellious teen-ager. His love interest is Laura Piras, the magistrate often assigned to the cases. The other members of the group are the gun-loving Alessandra Di Nardo, a closeted lesbian with a domineering father; Francesco Romano, buff and with serious anger issues; the older Giorgio Pisanelli who is fixated on a series of suicides that he believes are really victims of a serial killer; Ottavia Calabrese the computer whisperer, mother of a disabled child and trapped in an unhappy marriage; and the boorish Marco Aragona who is brash, tacky and ignorant but a surprisingly effective investigator. Then there is the commissario, Gigi Palma, the calm at the center of the storm, who is trying to keep it all together and who has a soft spot for Ottavia. All these characters’ lives, issues and thoughts are explored and it’s interesting and entertaining to follow along as we get to know them better. Earlier this year RAI aired a six-episode series based on the books and a second season is in the works. The TV series is a lot more superficial than the books but the scenes of Naples are great, the casting is mostly good (serious exception, the Laura Piras character) and, all in all, it’s fun to watch.