Dana's birthday

We had a dinner party Saturday night. Three guests, all inlingua teachers, crammed into our urban cave to celebrate a birthday. Dana, the half English, half Arabian, half educated in the States, and raised in obscure places like India, Germany and Qatar turned 28 on Thursday. Sebastian, enigmatic and English, and Jody, Canadian and cosseted, joined us.

We spent the morning shopping for supplies at our local market. Fish from the fresh fish guy, the wide silver aluminium trays balanced on upside down plastic blue tubs, filled with freshly trawled octopus, shellfish and shrimp. Half a sword fish was impressively displayed on a damp chopping block, the cross section of raw flesh exposed, a large well worn knife rests nearby. A hack saw leans against it, used to slice through the central bone. The head of the fish faces away from the street, but its sword-like beak, constituting one-third of its total body length, is an arresting sight. Beside it sits a luscious chunk of fresh salmon, its gorgeously coloured flesh flashing amongst the silver scales of the other fish stock on display. The surrounding area is awash with wet, smelly cobblestones as the vendor replenishes the water in the tubs and sprays his stocks of seafood as the morning unfolds.

Gi wandered into the bakery and joined the throng of middle aged housewives intent on purchasing their bread provisions for the day. It’s busy in there and it is some minutes before Gigi was served. He ordered a great slab of ‘pane cafone’, a local style of bread that is crusty to the point of being chewy and, for those with false teeth, sometimes a challenge to eat. With bubbles of air throughout the dough – making it perfect for mopping up pasta sauce – and a hint of sourness that seems to blend beautifully with Neapolitan specialities. Gi also purchased a ‘sfilatino’ loaf, golden and crusty with a white soft inner more in the style of a French baguette, and four ‘maggiolini’, which are basically miniature versions of the ‘sfilatino’.

While he was being served I watched as an elderly lady, pushed to the side of the glass counter by the throng, endeavoured to pay for her bread. Like many women of her generation, she was short in stature, age having drawn her down even further. Obviously independent and proud, she was neatly dressed, a streak of lipstick complimenting her grape jacket, and contrasting with her silver hair. I realised that she was, in fact, shorter than the counter itself, and from the other side one of the bakery assistants called out “Signora, Signora. Where is that Signora?” as she tried to relocate her customer. Hobbling through a gaggle of waiting customers she called back “I’m here. How much is it?” The price was bellowed back, and scrambling with her change she somehow launched herself through the customers pressed up against the glass counter, stretched herself up on to the tips of her toes and pushed the change in the direction of the assistant. Still unable to visibly locate her client, the assistant swept the change into her hand and simultaneously waved the bag of warm bread over the counter in the direction of the shrill but surprising forceful voice. Reaching up, the old lady secured her purchases and turned on her heel, confidently shouldering her way through the crowd. It was marvellous, and clearly demonstrated how she overcame the difficulties of her small stature with a strong voice and self-assurance on a daily basis, in a very Neapolitan way.

An alleyway leading off the main market street is lined with fruit and vegetable stalls. This is where Gigi and I usually buy our fresh produce. At the very end is a stall managed by an amiable local who can only be described as laid back. In contrast to his competitors he doesn’t call for your attention as you walk by. He doesn’t pressure you to hurry in your choice. Instead he greets you laconically, asking what you need, and perhaps making a couple of suggestions on what’s seasonal and good value. We purchased brightly coloured capsicums, onions, fabulous local tomatoes, a bag of mushrooms (with the manure still attached to the stalks), rough bunches of parsley and basil, bundles of friarielli, firm shiny eggplants and crisp salad vegetables. The lettuces were wrapped up in recycled newspaper. The tomatoes are poured into a cone fashioned out of newspaper. There are no little plastic bags. He adds it all up in his head, often rattling off the prices aloud to ensure that you are happy with his calculations. His warmth and friendliness encourage me to go back on my own, and as he works through my list, adjusting to my occasionally poor, or timid, pronunciations, he asks why I’m shopping alone. I’m also enticed by the selection of sub continental vegetables he stocks, clearly catering for the local Sri Lankan and African immigrant population including plantain bananas, fresh coconuts, taro, sweet potatoes and fresh ginger.

At the butcher’s Gigi asks for the beef we need for the ragu dish. And at the Vinoteca, the local bottle shop, we decide to try the merchant’s own house wine. We buy 1.5 litres, in a recycled plastic water bottle, for €2.30. The gamble paid off, and it was a lovely accompaniment to the meal that evening, although the plastic bottle did seem to lack a certain degree of sophistication.

We then headed home and started cooking. While I got started chopping vegetables, Gigi popped out and bought a selection of local pastries, in place of a birthday cake for Dana. Her face lit up at the end of the meal when he pulled out the elegantly wrapped tray of little delights, and under the flicker of tea light candles Dana and Jody leaned in close to study the prettiness of the mini cakes.

The menu itself was a typical Neapolitan affair. We had a lovely evening, with a sprinkling of saucy conversation, that, at times, left the more reserved Seb cringing. He commented on how ‘cosy’ and ‘homely’ our place was. It’s amazing what a quick tidy up and a few strategically placed candles will do to create some atmosphere!

Here are the recipes. I hope something inspires you to have a little Neapolitan feast of your very own.

Floured and fried salt water baby mullet (trigliette)
We bought twenty small mullet, just longer than the size of your finger at the fresh fish market in the morning. Gigi coated them in a layer of plain flour and then fried them in vegetable oil. You can shallow fry or deep fry them. Once they are crispy and golden put them on paper towel to drain, and lightly salt before serving. We served them as an entrée, but they could be served with a salad, chunky potato chips (not the Neapolitan custom, obviously) or as part of a buffet. They should be eaten straight after being cooked, and you can eat the whole fish, head to tail as the bones are fine enough. 20 mini sized mullet were ample for four people.

Ragu – two courses in one
Sauté one small or ½ large sliced onion in olive oil until translucent; add a finely chopped garlic clove. Allow to cook for three minutes. Traditionally ragu is cooked in a heavy clay/terracotta casserole-style dish.
Add 250 grams of roughly diced stewing beef (‘spezzatino’). Sear until coloured on all sides. Add half a glass of wine (normally red wine, but Gi used white as that was already open) to taste. Cook until the wine has evaporated.
Add a litre of tomato puree and a couple of teaspoons of tomato concentrate paste. Bring it to the boil, and then reduce the heat right down to the lowest point.
Let the ragu gently bubble for at least six hours on a low heat. The sauce should be plopping with one bubble at a time. This ensures that the meat is tender and that the flavour of the sauce is well developed.
Towards the end of the cooking time add salt to taste, and basil, chopped or whole leaves according to your preference.

You can add a dollop of butter or margarine after you add the tomato puree if you want. It’s not necessary but many Italians add it to act as an emulsifier, although it is not part of the traditional Neapolitan ragu recipe.

Cook penne pasta and drain. If you were just cooking pasta you would normally cook about 100 – 110 grams per person. But for a more elaborate meal about 80 grams is adequate. Use the tomato ragu sauce to coat the pasta and serve as a first course (primo piatto in Italy where pasta is eaten first). Serve with finely grated parmesan cheese (the real stuff, not the stuff that comes prepacked from ‘Kraft’).

Then serve the diced beef chunks with a splash of sauce and lots of crusty bread as a separate meat course.

These quantities serve four adults. Any remaining sauce can be kept for the following day.

This is the time to pause. Remember that the servings are smaller than what we are generally accustomed to, but with fish, pasta, meat, vegetables, bread and dessert it helps to eat smaller portions, slowly and with digestive pauses between courses. Besides there is a whole lot of conversation and music to easily fill the breaks.

Traditionally, after the meat course is served an array of vegetable dishes hit the table. These are called ‘contorni’ and can be served as antipasto dishes, i.e. hors d’œuvrés.

Capsicum with capers and black olives (Peperoni in Padella)
Cut a large yellow and red capsicum into strips. Heat up a generous amount of olive oil. Rinse a tablespoon of capers (use more or less according to your preference) and roughly chop (to evenly disburse the flavour of the capers through the dish without leaving any visible trace the capers should be roughly chopped, otherwise leave them whole). Flavour the oil by lightly cooking the capers, and then add a handful of black olives. Throw in a finely chopped garlic clove. Shallow fry the capsicum in the olive oil until they soften and wilt (Gigi’s sister told me to add a splash of water into the frying pan intermittently to reduce the amount of oil needed but Gigi is aghast at any such suggestion). Salt to taste (the saltiness of the capers and brine that the olives have been kept in will influence whether or not you need salt at all).

This can be served as this, or you can place it into an ovenproof serving dish and sprinkle with a thin layer of finely ground breadcrumbs. Place under the grill to toast the breadcrumbs and serve. This turns the dish into ‘Peperoni Gratinati’.

Eggplant and tomato (Melenzane a funghetti)
Dice an eggplant. If the eggplant is particularly bulbous and contains a lot of spongy seeded flesh you might like to cut away some of the seeded section to minimise the bitterness. Heat up some olive oil and pan fry the eggplant, tossing to avoid it sticking as the oil will quickly be absorbed. You may need to add more oil as the eggplant cooks. Once the eggplant has softened, add a sliced garlic clove.

Then you have a few options. You need to add tomatoes at this stage. And from here you can either make a vegetable side dish, or a pasta sauce.

Throw in a generous handful of fresh ‘pomodorini’ or ripe cherry tomatoes, or open a can of tomatoes (preferably ‘pomodorini’ (tinned cherry tomatoes) or diced tomato). Obviously fresh tomatoes are better but they must be ripe and suitable for cooking. Toss through the eggplant. Once the tomatoes have collapsed, salt to taste. Add fresh ripped basil leaves before you remove from the heat. Serve with crusty bread.

If you require more fluid for a pasta sauce you can loosen with olive oil or add some tomato puree, and thicken with a squeeze of tomato concentrate paste if necessary. Take off the heat, pour the sauce over cooked penne pasta and add chopped provola cheese (a fresh, soft, cows’ milk cheese with a smoked flavour (at a pinch you can use fresh bocconcini – baby fresh mozzarella available at the deli – but don’t tell Gigi I said that). The provola (or equivalent) will melt from the heat of the sauce and the cooked pasta. This dish is called “Penne alla Siciliana”.

(NB I also like this pasta sauce without the cheese, just the eggplant and tomato, but Gi considers it slightly blasphemous to serve it without the melting, stringy chunks of smoky flavoured provola cheese.)

Friarielli with garlic and chilli
Friarielli is a vegetable that is a member of the broccoli family, but tastes a bit like puk choy, and is only grown in the area surrounding Naples. I bought five generous bunches of it from my vegetable guy at the market. At home I stripped the leaves off the stalking section. The stalks are discarded as they tend to be stringy to eat. The leaves are washed. A very large saucepan of uncooked friarielli will wilt down and be enough for a vegetable side dish for 4-5 people. Instead of friarielli you could use English spinach, perhaps roughly sliced, or a dark leafy Chinese green.

Warm some olive oil in a large saucepan. Cook the friarielli over a moderate heat. Gi tends to toss it using his hand initially, to avoid the leaves on the bottom from scorching. Once the leaf has begun to collapse add a generous amount of finely chopped garlic and either finely chopped fresh red chillies, or dried chilli flakes; salt to taste. Toss through. Leaving the saucepan uncovered allow the vegetable to continue cooking over a low flame. Once the friarielli is completely wilted and well cooked, while retaining its vibrant green colour, it is ready to serve. You can serve this dish warm, or at room temperature. Leftovers are also great the next day.

Ensalata
Wash and roughly tear up lettuce, butter or iceberg. Do the same with an equivalent amount of raddichio (chicory – burgundy and white coloured leaves, bitter flavour). Cut a medium sized fennel in half lengthwise and thinly slice one half, discarding the leaf and any stalk. Mix the lettuce, chicory and fennel in a salad bowl. Just before serving dress with a pinch of salt, freshly ground black pepper, a generous drizzle of balsamic vinegar and extra virgin olive oil. Toss well.

Once the salad is dressed any leftovers should be thrown out. To avoid this you can simply dress with salt and pepper and place the vinegar and oil on the table for guests to dress their own individual servings.

Saturday menu

Yesterday I cooked for my teacher girlfriend Dana. Dana tells me that she doesn't cook...I don't quite understand how this works but I like cooking and am happy to feed people. It must be something I inherited from my mother.

Lunch yesterday we had pasta with lentils, fresh crunch bread rolls, green salad with olive oil and balsamic vinegar and potato, tomato and onion bake with oregano. Dana is the perfect guest, the sort of person who eats anything, and eats just about as much as you can put on the table.

The annoying thing about cooking in our urban cave is that the oven is temperamental. Actually it's the electricity supply. We can't operate the airconditioner and washing machine at the same time. Similarly we can't have the water heater and air con on simultaneously. Keep in mind that the the refrigerator is always on. But the oven is a beast. While it is heating up it blows the power fuses continuously. I unplug everything except the fridge, turn off all the lights and it still blows. I was outside to flick the safety switch six times while the rest of lunch was cooking.

I love this potato, tomato, onion bake recipe (borrowed from Remo, a male friend of my mother-in-law's), it's easy (except I hate peeling potatoes), tasty and inexpenisve. But this whole oven thing is a real disincentive.

After three hours for lunch we wandered down the main shopping street as I tried to finish my Christmas shopping for family at home. I am going to trust these gifts to the postal system again...which is slightly ridiculous when you consider the track record that we have with packages and Poste Italiane.

Saturday night dinner was at Remo's place with Gi's mother Rosa and sister Irene. We finally started eating sometime after 9.30pm, with plates of steaming penne pasta and a delicious tomato, garlic and basil sauce. This was followed by a simple casserole of beef and peas, the gravy mopped up with chunks from a fresh loaf of bread. Then vegetable side dishes appeared: diced eggplant with tomato, and steamed potato with balsamic, olive oil and parsley. Rosa then produced an assortment of cheeses, luscious mounds of fresh, milky mozzarella, another dish of freshly smoked mozzarella cheese and a caciacavallo cheese, a slightly rubbery, very mild tasting cheese.

Of course this was all followed by the traditional tray of local pastry sweets, and I watched as Gigi, Irene and Rosa indulged on the creamy, chocolate and hazelnut flavoured desserts.

Thank goodness we don't eat like this every day of the week.

We have friends coming for dinner tonight too. I think I'm going to have to declare Monday and Tuesday's diet days to recover from the weekends.

Buon appetito!

Local Images

The entrance to nearby metro station.


Antiques laid out on the street corner.



Go Santa Go!

How to reserve a car park.

The street where we live.

Three little girls playing.

Fair Fare

Food is a big part of life in Italy. In particular, southern Italians are dedicated food enthusiasts. Protective, proud and fond of their local produce, recipes, delicacies and culinary history it all adds to the flavour of daily life.

This has been clearly demonstrated by two recent events.

One of the adult students in my government class, Enzo, returned after two weeks of travelling to USA. As his first trip he spent considerable time in New York, but also visited Washington, Baltimore, Philadelphia, Buffalo and the Niagara falls.

“So, how was your trip?” I asked as he wandered into the classroom.
His winced, his face registering both his disappointment and distaste, “The food was terrible. I much prefer Italy”.
Somehow I wasn’t surprised, but still the idea of ten days in a city like New York left me wondering what was so bad about the food. “Enzo, New York is a great city, full of international restaurants and food.”
“Yes, but I only ate hamburgers and chips, and steak. I don’t like food with a lot of pepper and …how do you say (I interjected with ‘spices’), yes spices.” Holding onto his abdomen he indicated that spicy food upset his digestive system.

I had once again stumbled across the loyal pasta and pizza Neapolitan, both reluctant and unadventurous to sample new, unknown cuisines that might stretch the palette. I’ve met them before, and in fact I remember that Gigi was himself somewhat unaccustomed to eating certain foreign foods when we first met. He was okay with rather ordinary English and other European foods, but Thai food, Chinese and Japanese cuisine presented the unknown.

Later that evening Gigi confirmed my belief that many Italians are stuck in a bias towards Italian food, to the extent that they won’t try anything that is unfamiliar. And even if they do, they often don’t enjoy the experience. Although it is possible that they come to the table with a closed mind and an inability to experiment, savour the opportunity and take pleasure in something that doesn’t resemble traditional Italian cuisine.

Enzo’s strong, somewhat emotional, response to my question ‘How was your trip?’ certainly summed up the average Italian perspective when they travel overseas. It wasn’t the people, the architecture, cityscapes and landscapes or vibe of the places that he’d visited that made an intense impression. It was the food.

The second situation was the weekend itself. Saturday evening two teacher friends visited, and as we waited for Gigi we enjoyed an antipasto snack of sliced capsicum cooked in olive oil with garlic and capers. As we gossiped I was pleased to see Dana and Jody soaking up the flavoured oil with the crunchy bread I’d picked up at the bakery just an hour earlier, still warm and aromatic. Dinner was pasta e ceci, pasta with chick peas, a classically southern dish, and perfect for the cooler weather.

Pasta e Ceci Recipe
In a saucepan lightly fry a diced onion in a tablespoon of virgin olive oil until transparent
Throw in a 400 gram tin of chick peas, including the liquid
Crumble a stock cube into the saucepan, and stir until dissolved
Add two cups of water and a dash of salt.
Once the water has come to the boil add pasta (small-medium size) and stir through. Use about 500 grams pasta for 4 generous serves.
Add extra hot water if required. As the pasta cooks it will absorb the liquid, effectively cooking the sauce and the pasta together.
Continue to stir to prevent the pasta from sticking.
Add further salt to the soupy mix if required.
Once the pasta is al dente, most of the water should have been absorbed or evaporated, leaving a flavoursome chick pea sauce.
Spoon into bowls, serve with fresh bread.
Serves 4

Variations:
Add a dried chilli for additional flavour
After cooking the onion, add a chopped ripe tomato and chopped parsley
For a thinner sauce, drain the tin and use more water instead

This was followed by a typical green salad. If you go into a restaurant in Italy and order a green salad, don’t expect anything fancy or complicated. You will simply receive a plate of green lettuce leaves, ripped up to bite size pieces, generally already dressed in olive oil and freshly squeezed lemon juice, salted to taste.

Sunday is traditionally a day that involves visiting family for a late, lengthy lunch. Last weekend was no exception, although Rosa and Irene came to visit us at our urban cave. Mid morning we strolled down to the local market, umbrellas sheltering us from the intermittent rain, and bought some supplies for lunch. It is normal for people to shop almost every day here, buying whatever is required for lunch and dinner that day, with a focus on produce that is fresh and seasonal.

Gi called his family and they confirmed they would arrive at about 1pm. At 2.40pm they buzzed, and immediately began complaining about how long it took them to find a park, and then the queue of customers at the patisserie shop.

Gi was cooking and we started eating lunch at 3pm with plates of steaming orecchiette pasta (so called as they are shaped like little ears) ‘alla barese’ with broccoli, chilli, garlic and olive oil. The second course was a local fish (spigola) that Gigi had shallow fried in a glaze of onion, white wine and parsley, accompanied by a green salad. And as always piles of fresh crusty bread.

No longer had Irene put her fork down and she was chafing at the bit to get onto dessert. Her mother managed to persuade her, like you would an impatient toddler, to wait until we’d digested for five minutes and prepared espresso coffee.

They had walked in with the two packages of pastries. Rosa handed one to me explaining that it was something special for me. Irene harbours a particularly keen gluttony for pastries and tends to sit beside the beautifully wrapped package while the savoury courses are consumed.

Unfortunately (for my social integration, but fortunately for my hips and thighs) I don’t enjoy the sweets and pastries in Naples. They come in two sizes, bite sized morsels that look incredibly cute and appealing when on display in the big glass counters in the patisserie, and their larger cousins that require two or three bites. The variety is quite astounding, and for those with little discipline and deep pockets it can be a danger. You choose your pastries, and pay for them by the kilogram. Placed neatly on a shiny cardboard tray they will be lined up like little sweet soldiers before the loaded tray is wrapped up in shiny foil paper imprinted with the name of the shop. Wrapped with some flourish and considerable practice it is then tied up like a gift, a very distinctive and appealing package of desserts.

Gigi and his family, like most locals, can be particularly indulgent and competitive when it comes to who eats what from the tray of pastries. Rosa is always asking me to take something to accompany the coffee at the end of the meal, but I find them simply too sweet, loaded with patisserie creams or flavoured with liquors, to the point of being sickly and excessive. However, in an attempt to include me in the pastry feasting Rosa had specially selected a slice of rich chocolate cake. It was wrapped separately alongside a slice of sponge cake topped with a custard icing and glazed strawberries. They both looked aesthetically pleasing but after several mouthfuls of the chocolate cake I realised it was too rich, one layer of the chocolate sponge soaked in liquor and the icing was heavy and sticky.

I’m not sure why I don’t enjoy the sweets, pastries and desserts in Italy. I think it’s because they are just excessively sweet, lavish and decadent. I’m certainly not averse to a piece of mum’s pavlova, or Mrs Haigh’s passionfruit topped cheesecake, or a generous slice of chocolate mud cake, or Nana’s recipe for apple pie when I’m at home. But there is certainly a difference between the desserts and cakes I’ve grown up with and those that are savoured in Italian homes.

Having finished lunch in the late afternoon, we then prepared to go to dinner. Mascia, the woman who manages Centro Shen, the alternative health association and centre where Gigi works on Tuesdays, had invited us to dinner at the last moment. She wanted Gigi to meet a Chinese gentleman, Yen, who is a Chinese health practitioner and has been based in Naples for seven years. We were joined by his wife and daughter. His daughter has been here for three years and is studying political science at the university. Her Chinese boyfriend is studying International Business in Paris. She expressed her desire to return to China once her studies were completed. Her mother has only been in Italy for a year and spoke very little Italian, her daughter translating the dinner conversation as the meal progressed.

Mascia served pasta with a pesto sauce. Incredibly it was orecchiette, the same type of pasta that we had eaten just hours earlier for lunch. This was followed by a platter that included fior di latte, a cheese that is quite similar to the local mozzarella, deep fried balls of rice with bits of cheese and ham, slices of pie with spinach filling and frittata, an omelette style dish made from left over spaghetti or pasta. This was accompanied by a salad of radicchio leaves, the burgundy vegetable and its bitter aftertaste adding a sharp contrast to the meal.

As Yen and Gigi discussed Chinese medicine, their respective backgrounds and current work practices in Naples the food was passed back and forth.

After clearing away the plates Marcia placed an enormous bowl in the centre of the table and we enjoyed the tactile pleasure of cracking fresh walnuts.

Getting home at midnight I looked back on the weekend of eating, extending and receiving hospitality. While I felt extremely full, we had enjoyed some of the best parts of the Italian culture; good, simple food and friendly interesting company.

Helicopters

I can’t remember if I’ve written about the helicopters that spent hours hovering over our suburban quarter sometime last month. The first occasion was a day when Gi and I were both at home. We often hear aeroplanes in the distance, as the airport is virtually in the middle of the city, about ten minutes through the backstreets and the traffic from our place. Initially I assumed it was routine aircraft noise, but after repeated fly bys (not the type associated with a blue plastic reward card that you flash at the supermarket) I went outside to have a look.

The helicopter repeatedly circled the area. You could hear it cruising up and down the neighbouring alleyways and then turning back on its own path to fly over the sections in between the alleys: mostly apartment buildings crammed with thousands of residents; be they long standing Neapolitans or the more recent variety with Polish, Ukraine, Sri Lankan & Indian (or Australian) roots. I stood in the courtyard for a long time listening to the ongoing drone of the whirling blades as it swept over the area, patrolling along the market street, then over the piazza, before swinging back to investigate the innards, the heart, the core of the zone. The occasional sight of the helicopter flying directly above our courtyard, the underbelly of the beast exposed, made me feel nervous and excited.

It was a police helicopter. TheyThe mayor of Naples, Rosa Rosso Jervolino said: "We need, above all, a major mobilisation like we had during the terrorism times in the 1970s.
"We have to fight criminals, and we need cultural and social policies of prevention. I ask the government to not forget Naples," she told the BBC.
were looking for something, or rather someone. After hours of being sensitively aware of its ominous presence, scooping back and forth across the open blue sky, it disappeared; as though I’d imagined it all.

About a week later I was coming home, exiting from the bowels of the underground station, to find that the piazza was enjoying a heavy police presence. A quick stroll along the market street only heightened my nerves, and interest, as police were stationed at every major corner and intersection. Standing in pairs, one officer was holding a semi automatic weapon (how do I know what sort of gun it was? too many movies I guess) while the other was looking around and randomly (or so it appeared to me) flagging down vehicles and passers by for questioning and inspection.

The whole quarter was experiencing a similar level of police scrutiny. And the helicopter was back. Postponing my plans to wander around and buy some groceries I headed home, acutely aware that there were less people on the street than normal for a regular week day afternoon with such lovely weather. Again I found myself mesmerised by the drone of the chopper, the rare glimpse of it through the opening in our apartment building leaving me increasingly intrigued.

Someone the following day described it as a blitz. It’s funny how I always associate the word ‘blitz’ with the bombing raids that took place in London during World War II. Holed up in our ‘urban cave’ amongst the honeycomb of similar small living spaces it was very possible to imagine how easy it would be for an unsavoury someone to hide away, and stay hidden. Although Neapolitans aren’t good at being quiet, or hiding, or staying out of the public domain for long periods so I’m hoping that the police, and their flying friends, had some luck.

Although the recent developments seem to indicate that there is a lot going on just underneath the surface of everyday life in this ancient city.

An extract from the BBC’s website report:
Italian police have arrested 30 people in Naples as part of a crackdown on the Mafia following a surge in violence.
The raid targeted the bosses and associates of two clans thought to be involved in extortion and international drug trafficking.
The Naples Mafia, known as the Camorra, has turned on itself recently.
After nine murders in the past two weeks some have called for the army to be sent to the city. The ninth died on Wednesday, ending several days of calm.
The victim was known to be a leading member of a local clan.
Police said the gunmen had fired on their victim from the back of a stolen ambulance. The vehicle was later torched in a street close to the murder scene.
It was part of an ongoing war between about groups believed to make up the Camorra.
Reinforcements
Critics blame the recent spate of violence on the release of about 2,500 men from over-crowded prisons in the region.
Some of the murders have involved people who have only recently been freed.
The killing has brought pressure on the Camorra.
The interior minister set out an emergency plan for the city on Friday which will include an extra 1,000 policemen.
On Wednesday several hundred policemen were involved in an operation in which 30 people were arrested in raids across the city.
Those arrested are accused of Camorra association, robbery, extortion and drug trafficking.

And this a week earlier:
Italian PM Romani Prodi has said he is considering sending troops to Naples to help tackle a crime wave that has left seven people dead in five days.
Mr Prodi said the decision would depend on "the long-term benefits" of sending in the military.
Seven suspected members of the local mafia, the Camorra, have been arrested, following a spate of murders, daylight armed robberies and muggings.

Some of these murders have been happening in the area where we live. I’ve received emails from friends asking if it’s safe for us to stay, and if we’ve considered leaving. The reality is that while we take a bit more care when out and about after dark none of this directly impacts on our daily life. I’m not even aware that the locals are talking about it a great deal, although the Camorra is something of a taboo subject at times. You never know who you are talking to, and who is connected to whom. I don’t feel scared, or worried, but I am very interested in the developments as it’s a very real, very visible demonstration of the existence and activities of the local ‘Family’.

I watch with interest to see what happens following the mayor of Naples, Rosa Rosso Jervolino, request, “I ask the government to not forget Naples We need, above all, a major mobilisation like we had during the terrorism times in the 1970s. We have to fight criminals, and we need cultural and social policies of prevention.”

Yes, the city’s mayor is a woman. I hope to meet her one day!