A Tuscan View - from Umbria

20 more days

So much to look forward to here when Summer arrives, as it finally did a few weeks ago. We endured a long Winter this year and it was difficult to imagine the heat, as today it is difficult to imagine pulling on a second pair of trousers as a brace against the freezing cold. But a part of this Summer has been put on hold and tempered by the fact that our youngest child, the (not-so-small) small one, fell off her bicycle and broke both bones in her right arm.
She knew, we all knew, just by looking at it.

We took a tearful drive to the hospital and then had to make a longer journey to Perugia, as the nearest orthopaedic specialist was there on duty that afternoon.
The afternoon soon became the evening and we finally emerged, bleary eyed and blinking into the dark carpark, one of us wearing a heavy plastercast all the way up to the shoulder, set for 40 long days. Our little girl had no idea at the time what lay in store as the Summer began to take it's toll, but as we have now arrived at the 40th day, we are all at the end of our proverbial tethers.

I have been fortunate to have been otherwise preoccupied of late. Not surprisingly, things of a building nature are my immediate concern and it's a little like firefighting as I lurch from one emergency deadline to another. The stress of that is, though, tempered by allowing myself time every so often to go out in the car and 'discover' new and interesting places to draw and paint.
I call it research, and it is, but it also gives me a chance to stop for a time and focus on something other than power tools.

I just do quick sketches or small paintings to get a true sense of what it would be like for a group, then move on. So far I have a little 'library' of good places for morning painting, good places for afternoon painting, and loads of good places for lunch.

I've been busy.

For the patient back at home, unfortunately it's not quite as simple as just 'taking it off' today. You see, the bone hasn't quite set correctly and we will have to wait for the results of a final x-ray to confirm that she is now free to swim, ride her bicycle, draw, and do homework with her right hand. Our supportive, collective family-ban on all such activities seemed like a good idea at the time, but 40 days is a long time for anyone, certainly long enough for our wheatfields to turn from vivid green to golden brown.

So today has been a long time coming and, hopefully, the real Summer will start, for one little girl at least, very soon afterwards. We'll see.

The stupidest thing I did today;

I said, rather foolishly, as we went in to see the specialist, "I'm sure it'll be alright, then we can go swimming this afternoon!". Not according to the doctor.

He simply shook his head and said, "...ancora 20 giorni..." Aaaaaagh!

Panettone

23rd December 2007

The car is filled with the resinous smell of Christmas as the girls squash into either side of the still-netted and prickly tree. It is the end of the last school day before the long-awaited holidays and they are fizzing with excitement.

They bubble over with a jumble of chatter; bursts of song from their school Christmas Shows, jokes and gossip. They talk about the new boy, the naughty boy, the tall girl, the new friend, the favourite teacher, the homework, the party and the plans for the holidays.
Conversations with no beginnings and no ends, alive, fluid and full of laughter.
Marito and I fall silent, listening and smiling.
We are almost home when something strikes me, they are talking to each other in Italian.

The best thing I ate today;

Panettone.

Italy has gone Panettone crazy. These gaudily wrapped cakes are everywhere, and so appealing. There is something so splendid about the packaging that draws you in. Even if you’re not addicted to the rich, yeasty sweet bread, fragrant with vanilla and studded with sultanas and citrus peel, the festive allure of the box will surely get you every time.

As you might have guessed, I love a bit of panettone (and, by now, have probably eaten one too many). My favourites are the traditional fruited ones, although you can find the dome-shaped loaves, stuffed with all kinds of things; chocolate-chip, praline, tiramisu and even limoncello.
The prices vary enormously too, as much as €56.00 for a Father Christmas shape which, if you ask me, is a bit steep for what is, basically, an overblown currant bun. However, I did quite fancy the ‘Tachino d’Oro’, a large golden panettone, shaped like a turkey and stuffed up its rear end with custard. Now that would make a change for Christmas dinner.

Where to get them;
You can’t walk into a Supermarket in Italy without tripping over piles and piles of them.
There are many stories about how this dolce originated. My favourite, by far, is that many centuries ago this ‘pane’ (bread) was invented by a baker called ... wait for it ... Toni.

The Clowns of Chiusi

27th August 2007
The school summer holidays in Italy are long. Very long and very hot. After three months of baking, (cooled off by trips to the pool and buckets of gelato) even the most indefatigable child becomes jaded and wilting, stunned into a kind of bored stupor by the heat. So much so that we were startled by the shrieks of excitement that echoed around the hills of Le Coste when the tall one and the small one found out that a canny friend of ours had signed them up for a week at ‘Laboratorio Clown’ (Clown School) sponsored by our local Tuscan town of Chiusi as part of their Summer Festival.

The Laboratorio was run by the mercurial Teresa, who immediately wove some kind of clowny spell around the young wannabies, rendering them all totally in love with her. From then on the small troop met for 2 hours each afternoon in the gardens of the church of St Francesco where they learnt various amusing clowning techniques; how to pretend to trip each other up, how to walk into walls without hurting themselves, mimed sneezing and laughing and lots of silly walks.

With help from their clown ‘guru’ they made themselves red noses and we let them raid our wardrobes for baggy clown clothes, which were a bit too easy to find for my liking.

At 4.30 today we met in the cathedral square of Chiusi for the show.
At first just a few proud parents but, as the music started, the tourists began to gather until the young performers had an audience of about 100 people.
Chuisi glowed golden in the late afternoon light and funky music pulsed through the Etruscan streets, causing a quickening of the heart and a communal smile. The brave little apprentice clowns did their stuff; they twirled, they tripped, they danced and they bumped, they roared with wild, wonderful, infectious laughter and, in the sunshine, the laughter grew and grew filling the square and drifting down the side streets, coasting in the slip-stream of a Summer afternoon.

Afterwards we took our two clowns to Citta Della Pieve to see what was going on there as it gets ready for its week of festivities. The streets were hung with flags and lit with torches, and wooden stalls were heaped with medieval costumes for hire. We paused but, after a bit of a debate, Marito decided against the pair of yellow tights and had a beer instead.

Best thing I ate today:
Lasagne a casa

In our family lasagne is an exalted food, both celebratory and comforting. It is equally well received to reward someone who has been given a good school report as to console someone who has been absent mindedly forgotten by the feckless tooth-fairy.

However, I suspect that in general its reputation has suffered a lot from too much loitering in the chiller cabinet and dancing to the ominous ‘ping’ of the microwave.

A homemade lasagne should be an expression of love. A rich and sustaining ragu, made with a base of odori (finely chopped celery, onion and carrot.) The meat ( I prefer the savoury sweetness of pork) should be properly seared and, at its best, flavoured with tomatoes, red wine and lots of noce moscato (nutmeg) the fragrant musky nut that is used so inspiringly by Italian cooks.
The béchamel should be oozing, creaming and plentiful. The whole glorious thing layered with pasta, thickly dusted with parmesan and baked until crusty and golden. It should hold its own when sliced, silence the table and leave them begging for more.

I give you lasagne. Food of the gods (and Garfield.)

Where to get it:
Make it yourself, you won’t regret it.

Bears and Wolves

21st March 2007

Today the tall one came home from school with a gift from the teacher, a small guide-book to help discover the mammals of Umbria and Tuscany. It's packed full of information about the various creatures that inhabit this area, a few of which seem to live in our garden. Armed with the book (which includes useful drawings of animal's feet and different types of poo) we spent the afternoon walking through woods and abandoned olive groves trying to identify the tracks left in the clay soil. We identified (we think) tracks belonging to porcupines, badgers, deer, boar, hare, rabbits, fox, several small rodent things and an extremely large bird, of which I dread to think. We found the tracks more useful than the poo, all of which looks identical after a few days out in the sun. The tall one pointed out that the book also mentions bears and wolves, and I was happy to reassure her that there is no indication of either in the immediate neighbourhood. However, later while lingering outside with a glass of wine, I found myself staring hard at the high green Umbrian hills and hoping that somewhere in those wild impenetrable forests bears and wolves are still lurking.

Best thing I ate today;
Torta della Nonna - although I'm usually willing to risk it, this can sometimes be a bit of a dry disappointment. However, today's 'torta' was mouth-wateringly moist and had obviously been made by a superior class of Nonna. Lots of 'pinoli' too.

Where to get it;
Pasticceria della Campanile, San Casciano di Bagni

Scuolabus

7th March 2007

It's been a leap of faith to send the children off to Italian schools we know very little about. When you ask people here to recommend a good school they look at you strangely and say, "which ever one is nearest to you”. It would seem that, according to the Italians, all schools are the same, none better none worse.
The other thing that I have had to cope with is letting the tall one have a little more independence as she now travels to school on the Scoulabus, a vehicle of great excitement, which the small one is desperate to board when she joins her sister in September.

I was so worried the first time we waved her off from the bus stop and watched her squash in with all the Italian children, her rucksack all twisted and her hat coming off, but when she turned to wave she looked so happy and proud, I could only feel excited for her...

Best thing I ate today;
Ricotta al limone - a delicate wedge of pale ricotta, sweetened and flavoured with lemony zest then baked until the outside is all golden and crusty was devoured in one greedy go!

Where to get it;
On the cheese counter at any Italian supermarket.