The Great Rice Compromise (Cinnamon Winter)

I was never that fond of white foods. Lack of color was a signal that it would be boring.
I’ve gotten better with age, but I still have to add something to normal boiled potatoes to find the desire to eat them - cheese, oregano and capers, diced boiled ham and cheese, artichoke hearts - anything. Grand Sasso blue and Marsican red potatoes come close to being edible alone, but still sea salt and freshly grated black pepper help them out.
Boiled white rice is still problem, even with butter and Parmesan I was never wild for it. Especially in elementary school.
Growing up I was adamant about it. Why eat lumpy pasty stuff? So it would sit there and a little verbal arm wrestling would pass. But not for long. I don’t know when she started (I was too little at the time) but Mom would doctor it by reheating the rice in milk adding a tablespoonful of sugar (Mary Poppins-style) and then tap cinnamon over it all to make a soup. The powdered cinnamon would form islands and swirls on the surface of the milk.
It was gone in a flash.
Since then sweet milky cinnamon rice soup has been one of my comfort foods. Years ago a friend with a cold with nothing in her apartment phoned me for advice on what to eat. There wasn’t much, and she had to substitute coconut milk for the bovine variety. When it was ready there was silence on the other end of the line. I hung up and let her eat and sneeze in peace.

Il Cappero - the Caper

Why Il Cappero?

I was a picky eater as a child. I hated things I called "wet meat", "yucky mushrooms" or - the horrors - "quiche" or anything distant from steak or hamburgers. Fortunately some of us do grow up.
But for some reason, I loved capers. I still do.

That's right. "Il Cappero" means "The Caper". And did I say I love capers?

Capers, just to make sure we are talking the same language, are those little round green things that you usually find pickled in little jars. But in Europe they are often sold under salt (layers and layers of salt) as are anchovies (although the fish are often in huge tins). The best ones I've had so far are from Panarea. I picked up two bags (500 grams each, about a pound and a quarter) of local capers under salt.

The good part of the prehistoric tradition of preserving food under salt is not only that they last longer, but they also keep more of their original flavor than pickling. The drawback is that you have to rinse them almost obsessively.

Tonight's baked potatoes are a bit boring? Rinse a handful under running water and toss them on. Add freshly ground pepper (but no salt, of course).

Looking for a hint of Mediterranean character at a moment's notice? Throw a handful on your salad, or n your potato salad, drop a few in with the oil and vinegar with your freshly-cut summer tomatoes.

"Il Cappero" is where I hope to share some of the discoveries I've made about food, wine, and just plain eating, with a particular, but lovingly critical, emphasis on the magic of Italian food. This will take as through neighborhood markets, local foods and traditions, street food (a better word than fast food" kitchens (not just mine), wine bars and restaurants (but for those I'll also be writing on DeliciousCityIt) .

Oh, just in case you're asking, why should you look to me as your expert on food and wine, especially Italian food and wine?

Because I eat quite a lot of it. And I'm good at it too.

Did I say I like capers?

Just checking

Joshua Lawrence - L'Aquila, Italy