Culinary Adventures with Camilla

If you follow my blog, or know me in real life, you'll know that my littlest one, my Enthusiastic Kitchen Elf, loves wombats. I don't really remember when his fascination with wombats started, but it's been several years. He has a stuffed wombat - you know how other kids have stuffed teddy bears? - and his nickname is 'The Wom'. When we go on outings, just the two of us, it's 'Mom and Wom Time.' So, when my Wom announced that yesterday was National Wombat Day, I knew we had to do something to celebrate. D: Mom, tomorrow is national wombat day C: What does that mean? D: We have to have a party to celebrate wombats- R: And EAT wombats!??! D: Noooooooooo... I talked him into celebrating one day late, because yesterday I was running in three different directions and wouldn't be able to do the meal justice. He agreed, then finagled a cake out of the deal. So look out for a chocolate wombat-SHAPED cake. Slightly Non-Traditional...

Years ago, at the tail-end of my time in Italy, I traveled to Lìpari, an island off the coast of Sicily, and rented a cottage on a farm. Everyday the family left me different things in a basket by my door - fresh tomatoes one day, garlic another, and freshly laid eggs on the next. It was glorious to make dinner each night with something from their farm. On the second to the last evening I was there, I was sitting outside with a glass of wine, crusty bread, fresh cheese and beautiful, sun-kissed tomatoes from the farm.  Signorina!  came a voice from the main house. I put down my glass and walked toward the house. The farmer's wife asked me if I would like to watch them make tomato sauce that evening. Vieni fuori alle due, d'accordo? Come outside at 2 in the morning, okay? Okay. At two in the morning, I pulled on some jeans and a sweater and walked out in the chilly morning air. It was a full moon though I don't know if that was significant in this family ritual, or if...