HOW TO MEASURE - ITALIAN STYLE

Following a recipe in Italy has nothing to do with measuring cups and spoons. There aren't any measuring cups and spoons as I discovered when I asked some Roman chefs, friends, and other members of the general population. They don't use them and, in fact, find the concept odd.

The only form of measurement used in Italian kitchens is quanto basta which means "as much as you need". And they always seem to know how much that is. It's an inherent ability, a genetically determined form of creativity that the rest of us can only struggle to learn.

Fine tuning the art of quanto basta is essential to replicating the dishes you fall in love with at the table in Italy (asking a chef for a recipe usually gets you a patronizing smile and a list of primary ingredients).

So it was in this spirit that I attempted to create at home an antipasto from Ristorante La Rocca in Fumone, "my" medieval town south of Rome. The main ingredients are zucchini, smoked provola, and salmon. Here's where it got challenging: I can't find smoked provola where I live and of the 3 or more times I'd eaten this dish, sometimes the salmon was

fresh and other times it was smoked.

With blazing determination, I made some wild and risky decisions, putting blind faith in my ability to know when quanto basta was enough.

Here's what I did:

*Slice zucchini in 1/3 inch rounds, place on lightly greased cookie sheet in 350 degree oven for about 5 minutes. Zucchini should be slightly soft but still firm.

*Arrange each portion like this: create a flower-like shape by over-lapping zucchini rounds, top with smoked mozzarella (unless you can find smoked provola), top that with salmon, either fresh or smoked (I used smoked).

*Drizzle with extra virgin olive oil and finely chopped parsley.

*Place under broiler - not too close - for about 5 minutes, or until cheese melts and slightly browns.

*You can top with a sliced cherry tomato or not. I prefer more parsley.

And that's it!

This is more of a guide than a recipe, so please do your own riff on what I've done and let me know. Try your own hand at quanto basta, and free yourself from a dependency on those measuring cups and spoons.

WARNING SIGNS!!!

Our world is full of signs steering us away from danger and disaster: SLIPPERY WHEN WET! BUFFALO CROSSING! ATOMIC BOMB TESTING SITE! You need to pay attention and run the other way.

It's in this spirit of civic and moral duty that I post this alert.

If you're hungry in Rome (or anywhere in Italy, for that matter)

and you come across one of these plastic signs, usually large and glaring, STAY AWAY! You will not eat well--which is hazardous to your sense of pleasure and overall great travel experience.

These signs lure you into what I call imposter restaurants, often located around the major piazzas, like Campo de Fiori or Piazza Navona, and equipped with waiters beckoning in what they guess is your native language. What you'll get is a good view and poor to really terrible food. If you're drop-dead exhausted or otherwise in need of a brief respite, take a table and order something to drink, enjoy the piazza scene, and then go elsewhere for your meal.

Consider yourself warned.

AUGUSTARELLO/LA GENSOLA

In life as in eating. timing is everything. So it was that on my last days in Rome with so many restaurants yet to visit, I had no choice but to double up on big meals, both pranzo (lunch) and cena (dinner). One day in particular, I hit the big gustatory jackpot: two spectacular feasts.

Augustarello had been on my must-go-to list for several years, and this trattoria in the Testaccio area did not disappoint. From the owner himself, the son of the original Augusto and the embodiment of the seemingly gruff, but, under the barely scratched surface, warm and welcoming Roman nature, to the hearty dishes which for about 150 years have defined the Eternal City's cucina povera, the food of the poor. Pictured here is just one-sixth of my mega-lunch: borlotti beans, sausage, and cotiche (similar to pork rinds) in a creamy slightly tomatoey sauce.

Dinner was at another Roman institution, but a bit more upscale. La Gensola, poised between the trattoria and restaurant category in Trastevere, is owned and run with passion and a palpable sense of humor (the large glass doors were replaced in the main room during

prime dinner hours with a smile and an apologetic shrug) by husband and wife, Claudio and Irene. Who cares about chaos when you're being served an insalata of seppia (cuttlefish) with bruschetta points rubbed with olive oil and pancetta (pictured) and tagliolini with tartufi neri (black truffles).

SETTEMBRINI: A Flavor of Rome

Summer is fading, giving way to the coming of fall and a farewell to those sweet succulent figs, one of my favorites of the many flavors of Rome. The last of them are called settembrini, and perhaps because they'll soon be gone, are to me the best of all.

So it was with bated breath and fear of disappointment that I rushed into the Forno di Campo de Fiori to find, much to my greedy delight, pizza e fichi, Rome's white pizza stuffed with figs, and, in this case, also prosciutto.

It's impossible to describe the flavor, the lusciousness. You think you know how good a simple little ripe fig can be until you've had a Roman fig, and then, like many things in life, nothing else will do.

PASTA IS A GREAT BONDING AGENT

One beautiful moonlit evening several years ago, I was invited to an event at the Belgian Embassy, the terrace of which offers an exquisite view of the Roman Forum. Amid the chatter and the ciaos of both- cheek- kisses (Italians don't air- kiss like we do), I was introduced to Susan Van Allen, a writer from California. We ended up having dinner together at Ar Galletto in Campo de Fiori, and after a couple plates of pasta (what kind, I can't remember), we began a friendship as fellow writers, Romaphiles, and Italian-Americans discovering the land of our grandparents.

Since then, we've sometimes managed to replay our pasta dinners in Italy, but since we live on opposing coasts of the U.S, our friendship been sustained by phone calls and emails - and by each of us being Head Cheerleader for the other.

Susan's book "100 Places in Italy Every Woman Should Go" will be released mid-October. I've read the book and the only "criticism" I have is that it shouldn't be restricted to the female gender. Susan's exhaustive research (most of it on sight), her enthusiasm for Italy as a land of enchantment, and her skill as a writer have resulted in a must-read for anyone going to Italy who has a soul. (Italians call this "anima" - it indicates someone of some sensibility and depth.)

So buy it, read it over a dish of pasta - any kind will do - and bond with the thought of planning that long-put-off trip to Italy.

AUTHENTIC ITALIAN DECODED

This morning in my local newspaper, yet another food critic tagged an Italian-American restaurant as being "authentic Italian", listing chicken parmigiana, spaghetti and meatballs, and Caesar salad as evidence.

You won't find any of these dishes in Italy, no matter where you go, and it's partly why so many people visit Italy without understanding the food culture, cheating themselves out of one of life's greatest pleasures - the incredibly diverse cuisine of Italy's 20 separate regions.

Pictured here is an example of something that is authentically Italian, more specifically, authentically Roman: carciofi alla Romana, artichokes cooked in the Roman style. I normally write about carciofi in the spring when they're in season in Rome, but the photo was on my desktop, easy to use to make a point.

ON TOP OF SPAGHETTI...

....you'll never find meatballs.

Not in Italy anyway.

This most iconic of Italian-American dishes, spaghetti and meatballs, is considered a weird and laughable combination by Italians.

You can have your spaghetti as a primo (first course) and then you can order those meatballs (polpette as they're called in Italy) as a stand-alone second course in a variety of sauces and preparations.

The Manhattan location (300 Spring St in the West Village) of Rome's famed Sora Lella restaurant

serves this authentic version of polpette in white wine sauce --a wondrous example of doing meatballs as the Romans do.