Eating my body weight, per usual

I just got in from my last. cooking lesson. ever.

Yeah, you probably didn’t even know I was taking one.  It kind of irritates me that it’s now over and I hardly blogged about it. Jumble together 3 American college girls, Mamma Elena, and 3 hours of cooking (& eating) every Thursday and you have yourself quite the pahhr-tay. Yes, we call our cooking teacher Mamma Elena. No, we’re not related to her.  It’s weird. Whatever.

Anyhooo, the 4 of us prance around her fabulous, emerald-green kitchen (honestly, it’s like the Land of Oz in there) in our aprons and little, chef hats every week.  Okay, so 3 out of 4 do that.  My hat looks more like a Little Bo Peep bonnet because the velcro flaps refuse to succumb to my giant head. (It’s deceivingly large...I’ll blame the thickness of my hair until the day I die.)  

Today was a parmigiano di melanzane-kind-of-night with cheesecake for dessert.  I’m not sure how Italian we can pretend cheesecake is, but it was phenomenal nonetheless.  Key ingredients? Cream cheese and whipped cream.  If you had any prior doubts, you can now rest assured that cheesecake is without a doubt the dessert-of-choice for diet freaks and health nuts. Not. 

Panna Montata

Why even pretend that
there are other brands?

Things that are hilarious: The Italian translation for “cream cheese” is actually “Philadelphia” (as in the cream cheese brand).  I kid you not. There is literally no other word for it. Whipped cream is “panna montata” which sounds a lot like Hannah Montana when uttered with a good enough American accent.

So what if I creepily sought
out this pic of him
on an Archaeology website?

Unfortunately, while the three of us groaned and grimaced over how horribly delicious the cheesecake was (Darn you and your homemade, mixed berry jam, Mamma Elena!) Mamma Elena had to take a phone call.  Fortunately, we were joined by her husband, a retired archaeologist who now travels the world giving lectures.  I’m slightly obsessed with him. At this point, I’ve asked Mamma Elena on various occasions whether he will be attending our “final dinner.” I’m trying to steal her man.  He’s so adorable with his funny Italian mannerisms and dress suits. I should probably give it up quick.  He’s in his eighties. More importantly, I think she’s onto me.

Family and friends, expect some Italian cooking alla Jenna this summer because I will definitely be testing out some recipes.  (After first devouring 34928374 chicken finger baskets at Supreme’s. Duh.)  Before you get too excited, I should probably warn you that Mamma Elena specifically asked me to clean off the the table today while Girl 1 was dicing and Girl 2 was stirring. I’m not so sure if that’s a stab at my poor cooking or a way of complimenting my mean cleaning $k!LLz. Let’s pretend it’s the latter.

Jamie visits!

In other news, there have been an outrageous number of visitors to Florence over the past 2 weeks--Jamie, a friend from high school; Adair’s mom & her friend; and Lauren’s entire family!  In other words, I was spoiled rotten all week long with fabulously delicious, family dinners. Tragically, Lady Gaga and the Easter Bunny were not among the visitors.  [Side note: Europe’s TRL Awards were in Piazza Santa Croce in Florence and there were rumors that Lady Gaga would be performing. Just talk. All lies. So upsetting.]

Boboliii

Mom, ya cute.

As for the Easter bunny... apparently it doesn’t exist in Italy. Like whaaa? I just got a view of my friend Shannon’s perfect, American, Easter basket via Skype and I cannot understand why Italy wouldn’t want to offer its children an overwhelming supply of Peeps and Reeses Eggs fluffed in a pound of shiny, tinsel-y goodness.  Don’t even try to defend Italians with the whole “religion” thing. That’s baloney: Instead of an Easter basket, I received a giant chocolate egg the size of Nina's head... with a prize inside.

Signorina Nina, with the egg she picked out for me!
Things to note:
 A) her adorable, Hello Kitty sweatshirt that I got for her birthday
B) how super girly and pink my egg is
and C) this egg was half the size of the one that she ate

I was lucky enough to spend Easter (which also happened to be Adair’s 21st birthday!) with Adair, her mom, and her mom’s friend.  In my little easter dress and bonnet (okay maybe not a bonnet) I made my way to Easter mass at the Duomo which was lovely.  

Art historians & restorers around the world, start cringing at the
proximity of those fireworks to the Duomo 

After mass, we watched an insane celebration called the “Explosion of the Cart,” in which a cart (see pictures) is hit by a rocket in the shape of a dove and then exerts fireworks from all directions while the bells from Giotto’s Tower ring out for the whole city to hear.  

Florence's red, white, and purple pride!

The 4 of us had a lovely lunch and then regrouped later on for more food and Easter/birthday festivities.  Adair and I experienced the Florentine steak for the first time and it was ahh-maaaz-ingggg. 

Dad & Uncle Ray, envy me.

I hope that every at home had a Happy Easter and a chance to watch the Royal Wedding! I twisted my hair into a bun, and frosted myself in a bedazzled headband... The woman at my fave pasticerria told me that I looked like Kate with my tiara on. Thank God someone understands me.  Congrats, William and Kate, we watched you from all angles, in two languages, accompanied by brunch! Harry, get ready--we’re next! 

The real princess. Sorry, she's not sorry, Kate!