Baking like an American with a Bunch of Italians

Last week, I must have taken a dive off the deep end because I invited a bunch of Italian friends over to make an apple crisp with me. Now, this wasn’t the first time they had eaten an oh-so foreign American sweet of mine. Previously, I brought a bunch of Mexican Wedding Cakes to a friend for her birthday. I thought their simplicity would appeal to Italian tastes, and I was fortunately right. I think that helped everybody’s willingness levels because I managed to wrangle up four other girls to help with the cooking and an additional three to help with the eating. Italian cooking abilities can be put into two categories. Either you have difficulty boiling a pot of water, or you could give Giada di Laurentiis a run for her money. These categories made themselves clear again when we assigned the jobs. Aleissia opted to be the D.J., Catia was the photographer, and Carmen and Agata decided to test their skills and help me cut apples. Apparent in her cutting abilities, Agata could be a candidate for Italia’s Next Food Network Star (which does not actually exist), and Carmen, well, Carmen got a boo-boo.

Mad Cutting Skills from Both Girls

The Boo Boo

All minor injuries aside, we got the crisp in and out of the oven successfully. The first group of girls had to go to English classes (hahahaha) before the crisp was ready, so another three friends came over to give it the taste test. One thing I really love about the way Italians eat is how they criticize every little thing about the meal but rarely mean it. As Francesca, Eva, and Giorgia seriously told me “This is way to sweet” and “You probably added too much water,” they happily finished their generous portions of crisp and asked for the recipe.

A Happily Eating Francesca and a Happily Eaten Crisp

Insieme

Today, I experienced mild surprise when none of my friends insisted on walking home with me. Well, they never really walk me home. They always walk me to the end of the street that we hangout on after school then turn around and go back to where they were sitting. We don’t really have a word for this sort of thing in English, but in Italian it’s called “compagnare,” and I guess most closely means “to accompany.” It exemplifies one of many Italian habits that result in almost no solitude. A typical Italian goes likes this: first, you wake up. For me, I share a room with my host sister, so this is done together. Then, I use the bathroom, wash my face, etc. This is usually done alone in the morning, but often times, the girls all go to the bathroom together. We eat breakfast as a family. I walk to school with Roberta. I attend all my classes with the same twenty something kids. After school, we go walk around the bridge for about an hour. I go home, usually accompanied by Roberta or one of my friends. We eat lunch as a family. Then, everybody gets on Facebook and chats with the friends they just left. O, and I forgot to mention that throughout the entire day, the average Italian teenager is sending and receiving millions of text messages. Really, the only time I spend alone is when I study.

This constant companionship, like many things I have come to observe, has both positive and negative aspects. It can get a bit annoying always feeling obligated to interact with people. It’s weird to watch my independence level regress, and sometimes I want to give a good, long lecture on the importance of respecting personal bubbles. On the other hand, it’s nice to have people there for you all the time. I can get a hug whenever I do and don’t want. My friends and family are sincerely concerned about my feelings and emotions. I am never without support. In the words of my stepmom, if I was looking to hold myself up and walk alone in the rain, I should have gone to a Scandinavian country (No offense Ellie). For now, I'm in the Latin world, where everyone is always "insieme" (together).