Winter has come for Sao Paulo. No, nothing sinister like the saying of Starks of Winterfell. I just love saying it. "Winter is coming". Winter is here. Weather is pleasant here in Sao Paulo. No rains or dryness. It is cool. It is nice. This is the perfect weather for outdoor activities.
"Winter is coming" made my thoughts to go to Game of Thrones. What a waste of a final season! I would have to wait 20 more years to watch it again and be disappointed all over again. Maybe I should change the final season. I will have the money and influence, may be I could entice Mr. Martin to write the books faster so that we don't have to put up with the mediocre writing of Daniel and David, fucking cunts. Ruined one of the best tv series ever. Where's Reddit when I need it? I need to go on a rant for the 100th time about the filth that is the final season of Game of Thrones.
I was so excited when the break started. I was ready to relax. I was ready to do nothing at all and enjoy family time. But, a week in and I am bored! I am bored out of my fucking mind. When there's football, there's routine. There is school. There is training. There are matches. I have so much free time on my hands and my thoughts keep going back to the internet, the tv shows, the movies, the games.
Yesterday I almost broke my joystick, because I had to play the same old game for the fiftieth fucking time. Even the arcade is no better. Where's Valorant when you need it? Where's Rust when I needed some toxic escape? One good thing about this is I could experience them all over again.
Playing Counter Strike for the first time. The COD lobbies. The absolute filth you encounter in ranked lobbies and queues. Ah! The good times. I can have them again. But, I have to wait so long!
This morning, it was a small sentence that triggered me. Without knowing it, my mom called Digão a summer child. That's it, my thoughts went immediately to Game of Thrones. I watched it so many times that even now I could play all the seasons in my head. I wish the system had access to the modern internet. I would have been saved. But, all morning I was thinking about the Starks, Lannisters, dragons, direwolves and all the fucking plot holes.
I need to get a hold of myself. Enjoy the 90s. Go outside. Touch some grass. But, the more I do all of that, the more I miss modern times. These times are great! But, I would like some technology as well. Everything is about balance. At least I had music to listen to and could watch some decent shows on TV. It feels so different to watch a TV show like Friends on TV and not be able to watch the next episode or binge watch it. You had to buy a DVD for that. Even then, it is so different.
With nothing fun to do, I went on to the gym. I have consulted my trainers at the club and the system and changed my diet. It is protein heavy. I am going to lift some weights and put on weight. I cannot lose my agility so everything has to be done in balance. This is something I have taken up seriously and I have strict goals. I need to improve my pace and strength. I need to bulk up, but keep my athleticism. I cannot do what Lukaku did. That's a cautionary tale. I need to do what Jordan did after the Detroit Pistons whacked him left and right. I need to bulk up in moderation.
In this time, sports science has not evolved like it did in the future. So, the staff at the club are unaware of a lot of things. So, I talked to my dad. I wanted to hire someone with experience in fixing the posture of athletes so that they wouldn't have recurring injuries. If I am running wrong, I want to know it now, so that I can fix it. I do not want to be at AC Milan or some other big club, and then have to change the way I play.
It has only been one week since the break started.
I go for a run in the morning. Come back, have a nice big breakfast. Talk to my mom for a while. Then either go to the mall or arcade with Juan and Carlos and others. Or we go to each other's houses and play games. Then come back for lunch. Eat a proper lunch with a lot of meat, fish or eggs, and vegetables. Rest for a while, and then go to the gym for a proper work-out session. After gym, I drop by the local football grounds to keep up my football skills. My mom makes snacks for me for the evening and I eat them at the gym or at the ground. I take a walk, relax, enjoy nature, and listen to music. And then come back in the evening to home. Help my mom with dinner, spend some more time with family talking absolute nonsense. Eat dinner, watch some TV, and go to my room by 9/9:30. I go into the system to watch an hour of masterclass or training videos. I sleep by 11 and wake up by 5:30 or 6. Sundays are usually church days, so I would be busy with either the soup kitchen or some other activities there. Every Sunday, I volunteer at the kitchen. I help clean up, or serve or organise or do any work they ask me to do.
Today, I came home early from church and I wanted to make Ragù. I bought all the ingredients. And I told my mom that I am going to make it today. And she is just going to supervise and help.
She took one look at the ingredients and said,
"Kaká! That's not how you make Ragù. You don't use milk for it baby"
"Trust me mamãe! I read it in an article. This is how they make authentic Ragù Bolognese. Leave it to me."
I have been going down a rabbit hole with cooking as well. I wanted to be a proper cook/chef. I asked my mom for help and she had been teaching me various techniques and her recipes.
But on days like today, we clash. Because I want to cook dishes from my past life. The way I remember them and the way my mom makes them are different.
Case in point. Ragu Bolognese. It is one of my favourite dishes. The Bolognese sauce I had in my childhood was not exactly authentic. It had lean ground beef, red wine and a lot of canned tomatoes. It was incredibly delicious. But, then I travelled the world and I experienced what an authentic Ragù Bolognese tasted like. My life had never been the same. It blew my mind.
The tomato component was barely there in the sauce. It wasn't dominant. The Bolognese was so soft and tender that it melted in my mouth. The restraint on the tomatoes, combined with milk and white wine makes you wonder if it really is a meat sauce.
For the uninitiated, Ragù Bolognese is a beautiful, slow cooked meat sauce made from ground beef, pork, chopped carrots, onion, celery, milk, wine, tomato and stock. No garlic.
Ragù is a meat sauce. There are multiple variations of it. The biggest difference was that the Bolognese version uses milk, white wine and less tomatoes. The milk helps tenderize the meat and balances out the tartness. This gives way to soft, light and sweet notes. It is absolutely brilliant.
"You've been cooking for a week and you're already an expert, huh?
Okay fine. Tell me what to do"
"Yes! That's the spirit. I will chop the vegetables. You make the pasta. Then we will make the sauce together."
"Yes Chef!"
Once the prep was done, I put a pot on the stove, added butter and olive oil.
"Add the finely chopped onion, carrot and celery. Sauté for 15 minutes until they turn golden."
"Woah! Sauté? Big words. Where did you learn all this Kaká?"
"No talking mamãe! Concentrate. They shouldn't be brown. I learn things. I read stuff. I watch cooking shows. Why would I not know sauté?"
"Ooo! Yes Chef!" She just laughed. We were having fun together. My useless brother and father are only good for eating. They don't even bother to wash the dishes. There is truth to the "Mama's boy" thing. I see my mom working in the kitchen and I drop by to help, or keep her company or wash dishes. That's the bare minimum in my opinion.
"Now, add the meat. Add salt and pepper. Let it lose the pink color. But, again, do not let it brown."
"Yes, yes, I know Kaká!"
"Now the important step. Add milk, nutmeg and bayleaf."
"I still don't know about this Kaká. Did it really say milk? Did you read it properly?"
"Yes, I am sure. Trust me mamãe! This will blow your mind. That's what the author said"
"Now cook for about 20minutes until it is all evaporated. Add in the wine and do the same, wait till it is evaporated. Then add tomato paste. Let it dissolve and then add stock and tomatoes."
"Yeah. Help me stir it. It takes a lot of time"
"Sure. I can do that!"
We cooked it for about 2 hours. We chatted a lot about her school, kids, her friends, my friends, gossip, tv shows and just about everything under the Sun. We never talked about football or other expectations or any such stuff. It was nice. I really loved my mom. She is perfect.
The sauce was almost ready. It smelled divine. I tasted it, adjusted the salt a bit, and asked my mom to taste it. She ate a spoon of it and her eyes widened.
"What did I tell you? You should trust me more mamãe! I'm a natural in the kitchen. I shall take over the world soon. You just wait and watch" I said with an evil villain laugh.
My mom gushed about the sauce non stop.
"This is absolutely divine Kaká! OMG! It is so soft. And so tender. And the flavour is so nice. It is so different. The way I make it is so full of tomatoes. This has hints of it which only serve to elevate it. I have to share this with my friends. Can you get me the recipe? The article where you've seen it, where is it?"
Umm! There is no article. Your son is a transmigrator who learnt to cook this dish while travelling in Italy in his past life.
"I don't have the article mamãe. But I know the recipe. I'll write it down for you. We just made it, so even you could help with the amounts and all."
"Yes, yes! Digão is going to lose his mind over this"
"He is going to bother you to make it more often" I laughed.
While the sauce was still simmering, my mom showed me how to make the pasta. She chose pappardelle. Perfect for Ragù. I learned to mix the dough, the importance of resting the dough and then rolled the dough.
I had trouble with rolling the dough. So, my mom did it for today. She said that I will learn with practice. We didn't have a pasta maker. I should buy one for her soon. She'll enjoy it. Hand rolled pasta is nice and all, but a pasta maker makes life so much easier.
Once they're done al dente, I transferred them to the pot with the sauce, added a little more butter and mixed it well and coated the noodles with the sauce. I grated some parmesan cheese into a bowl so we could add it as needed when we eat it.
My mom shouted for Digão and my dad to come and eat dinner.
They joined in and without any questions they just served themselves two bowls. These two barbarians need to learn table manners. Digão was the first to dig in and even a dumbass like him noticed the difference.
"This is different. But, very good. I like it, mamãe. You should make this version more."
My dad, on the other hand, smelled it, had a little mouthful and was savoring his bite.
"This is so soft and the sauce just melts in your mouth. This is so good. What did you change honey?"
I was carefully watching my mom's reaction. Yes, she liked the end product, but the way everyone was talking, she could take offense. Because if this was so good, it means her versions were not so good. I tried to play nice and said
"I like both the versions. The tomato version has a different style to it. It has a bite to it. This is more rich, sweet and soft."
"Thanks for trying Kaká, but I agree. This version is much better than the usual version."
Then she turned to my father and said, "Bosco, it is your son's idea to cook it this way. He saw it in some article and told me to add milk to make the sauce and added white wine instead of red wine. And less tomatoes."
My father was surprised, Digão didn't care and just went for a second serving, the little pig.
The dinner table was full of laughter, discussion about our favorite Italian dishes and me and my mom teamed up to make fun of these two for not knowing anything about cooking. A day well spent.
I told Digão to go help in the kitchen to wash the dishes. I told him that it took 4 hours to make the dish that he ate in 30minutes, so he should go help in the kitchen. My mom shot me a grateful look. My dad had an embarrassed face, he is not so conservative to think that men don't enter the kitchen and all that bullshit, but it just doesn't occur to him to help my mom in the kitchen or for cleaning.
He asked my mom to relax and that he and Digão would clear the kitchen. I accepted it. Good. I will slowly get them to realise that my mom also works for a living and also does all the house work. Digão needs to pull his weight around. He is 13. So, it is fine. He is not a kid anymore. My dad does do a lot of chores, but he could help my mom out more. Nothing wrong with that.
My cooking lessons continued with my mom. I learnt a lot of traditional Brazilian dishes. I didn't have any input on these and I was a blank slate. I absorbed the information with ease and I was actually getting good at this stuff. Within a year, I could be a proficient cook. I might not reinvent cooking, but I will be able to cook dishes from memory. Perfect!
I realised that my dad was feeling a bit left out. I would go to the gym, spend time with my friends or be in the kitchen with my mom. I realised that I was ignoring him and Digão. So, I asked them to join me in on the morning runs, and if possible, the evening walk. I told them that I wanted to learn Italian with them and that we should practice with each other. That lit up my dad's face. He didn't have any hobbies. He was into engineering. But we can't exactly go around breaking things and repairing them. He didn't fish or play any sports or anything. His life had been this family and job. He loved football, that's something we had in common but we did that everyday. So, having this thing made him really happy.
He took it seriously and everyday we spoke to each other in Italian. The basic phrases. To pass him something. To ask for time. To walk faster. Simple things. We would correct each other as well. I had an added advantage in the system. For the videos, I could select the language option. So, whenever I watched an Italian player, I would watch it in English and also Italian, to learn the correct pronunciation and increase my vocabulary.
It is coming along really well. Within a couple of years, I shall be proficient in Italian. I'm going to have so much fun with it.
My break was off to a good start in this sense. A lot of family time and relaxation. No football. No worries about anything. I was just concentrating on the weight gain. I will grind my stats afterwards. Soon, I should let my family know about the vacation to France. I was so looking forward to this.
Author's Notes:
What's your favorite Italian dish? Or a dish that blew your mind when you had an authentic version.
There are so many Italian dishes for me that were out of this world when I had them in Italy.
I will try to recommend them one by one in chapters going forward.