A Tuscan View - from Umbria

The colour of earth

The first coat of calce (lime-wash paint) is diluted to the consistency of milk.  As I slosh it on to the walls it streams down my arms and splashes on my feet.  It barely covers the newly finished plaster in a thin pale wash.  This is the ‘primo mano’ or undercoat in pure chalk white.  
The idea of calce is that it breathes. 

I love that idea, a house with a soul and walls that breathe.

After the primo mano you can choose a colour, if you wish, to add to the chalk base.  You are given a tin of pigment, which you mix in, and the broken colour is achieved in 3 coats each diluted to a lesser degree with water.  The end result is a colour that appears to move in and out of its own intensity, changing with the light and the undulations of the walls.  Well, that’s the aim anyway.

Since I first visited Italy, years ago,  I have been infatuated with its colours; the warm rosy apricots and rich terracottas of the peeling stucco in the piazzas.  Faded frescos with the soft tinctures of the Renaissance, ghosts of vivid lapis blues and true clear reds. 

In the countryside, the ever-changing grey green olives and inky dark cypresses stand against the ripened gold of wheat. And the land itself, its ploughed and fallow fields with great clods of soil like raw siena, the fertile colour of earth.

In the cavernous warehouse where we have come to buy the paint I feel suddenly nervous, almost overwhelmed by colour, but I know I haven’t come this far to paint yet another stark white wall, so I hold my breath and choose…

The best thing I ate;

Bruschette con pomodorini e ricotta or (less romantically) tomatoes on toast!

I have been making these a lot recently. They are great for lunch but even better as the sun sinks behind the hills, served with a gently fizzing glass of chilled prosecco. I think it is the intense tomato taste of summer, the piquant edge of the peperoncino,  or maybe the mellow sweetness of the balsamic contrasting with the crumbling cool ricotta that really gets me.  Enough already!  Just try it.

Serves 4

cherry tomatoes (about 30)
Balsamic vinegar (1 and a half tablespoons)
Extra virgin olive oil
A peperoncino  chopped really finely
Sea salt and ground black pepper
Country bread sliced about 1cm thick
Garlic
Fresh ricotta cheese (try and get the good stuff made of sheep’s milk from the deli counter)
Fresh basil

 Leave the tomatoes whole and put them in an ovenproof dish and spread them out in a single layer. Season them with a little salt and pepper and drizzle generously with olive oil and half a tablespoon of balsamic vinegar.  Roast them in a hot oven for about 10 minutes or until the skins have burst and the juices started to caramelise.  Take them out of the oven and add the peperoncino, then add another tablespoon of balsamic vinegar and stir gently to mingle the flavours.

Meanwhile, slice your bread and toast it on a hot griddle until it is crisp on both sides.  Rub each slice a couple of times with a cut glove of garlic.  Drizzle with some olive oil and sprinkle with a little sea salt. 

To assemble your bruschette, spoon the tomatoes on to the toasted bread and top with a little ricotta.  Serve on a large white platter with some torn basil strewn around. 

Spellbound.

23rd June 2008

It’s 5.45 on the morning after the longest day of the year.  It’s warm but the sky still has the soft pale blue, almost white, look of dawn.  The sun, low and hazy, has yet to stoke and build up her heat.  The brick steps are still cool and there is freshness in the shadows.  We are up, the whole family and, with barely a tussle, have managed to assemble - bleary and blinking - by the car.

We drive through the sleepy, breezeless countryside past putty coloured olive groves and inky cypress trees standing still, silent and spellbound as the Sunday morning bells ring in the day.  Soon we arrive at Citta della Pieve keen and hungry.  Here the streets are being carpeted with flowers and it is this that we have come to see, the Festa dei Fiori in honour of S.Luigi Gonzaga, protector of the Casalino Terziere.

These beautiful decorations are made once a year on the nearest Sunday to the Summer solstice.  The festival’s origins are lost in the mists of time but some say it marks the solemn procession of Spring.  Many of the designs are traditional, taking their inspiration from the Renaissance and the local master Perugino, but every year new designs are added in rich and subtle colours.

Flowers and scented herbs are grown in the surrounding countryside specially for this extravaganza and for 3 months prior to the day locals collect and dry the blooms and seed heads in preparation.  No money changes hands, it is simply the Italian way.

 We wanted to be in Citta della Pieve early in the day to see the work in progress, volunteers have been up through the night creating these vibrant scenes.  Ordinary people, nonnas and nonnos with their grandchildren, the man from the bar and another, the big gruff man who sells tickets for the Perugino and hides his broken smile. Today he walks up and down spraying the flowers with sugar water which will harden and set the blooms.

There is an atmosphere of hushed business and an up-beat vibe.  The whole place glows in the intensifying sunshine, the vivid colour of the petals radiant against the old stone and red brick of the town.

This wonderful show of dedication and artistry is made all the more fascinating by it’s fleeting nature, later this evening a procession of townspeople will walk over the flowers to the main piazza scattering the blooms to the gutter in their wake.

As we walk between the images taking photos, laughing with our girls, chatting with the old guys, restraining the dog and stopping for cappuccio and cornettos, I have to admit it was well worth the wake up call.

We so enjoyed photographing this glorious event that you can find more pictues of the flower designs in the side bar, just give me a day to sort it out...

The best thing I ate:
Risotto with roast fennel and peperoncino a casa

Yes it’s hot, but sometimes only risotto will do.  There is something so therapeutic about the making and eating of risotto, the ritual of adding the stock and stirring, watching while the little translucent grains grow plump and creamy.  Followed by the soothing balm of eating a bowl full of bliss.

  A good risotto can calm a frazzled spirit, comfort a fragile soul and even cure a hangover!  But for this magic to work it has to be made well and that means practice.
The rice should still retain a slight ‘nutty’ bite and the consistency be an unctuous oozing mass, not too soupy, not too stiff.

 Find a good recipe for risotto bianco and get practising, I suggest ‘The best of Anna Del Conte’.  It is this book that gave me a great tip for preparing risotto in quantity without having to stand and stir, red in the face, while others are knocking back the aperitivo.  ‘Jamie’s Italy’ also has a good variation.   Once you’ve got the knack there is no limit to the good things you can add to your risotto.

With a nod to Jamie (and for a big gutsy flavour) I stirred in soft caramelised roasted fennel and boosted it with crushed fennel seeds, lemon zest and the subtle hint of peperoncino and, what do you know, even marito’s hangover was cured!

Where to get it: 
Make it yourself. 

Guilty as charged

10th May 2008

Around 10 years ago there was a great deal of excitement about the 500th Anniversary of the death of one of the greatest Renaissance painters, Piero Della Francesca. I remember being on holiday in Italy at the time and tearing around with Marito to various churches, museums and small towns to see as much of his work as possible as quickly as we could, The Piero Trail.

There were so many highlights, including my personal favourite, the serene Madonna Del Parto , but the one that perhaps stands out the most in terms of its sheer magnificence is the Legend of the True Cross fresco cycle in Arezzo. As a story it has all the intrigue of The Lord of the Rings, spanning over 5,000 years from the death of Adam to the return of the cross to Jerusalem.

In the middle there is the search for healing oil from the Wood of Mercy, the theatrical angel appearing to Constantine in his beautifully illuminated campaign tent and two tremendous battle scenes. It appears exactly as it would have done, except for the damage caused by earthquakes, lightning, nearby building works and, perhaps the worst of all evils, if you're a fresco, damp.

I took some photographs, although I did get told off for doing so. Flash photography causes terrible damage to a fresco, I was once told that one flash was the equivalent of 10 days subdued sunlight, so I am always careful to not use it. So when I asked (politely) why it was wrong, it seems the reason is now copyright. After 510 years I doubt whether Piero Della Francesca would really care that much.

Anyway, guilty as charged, here they are. The idea is to make other people want to go and pay to see the frescoes, so I guess it all works out ok in the end.

The History of Art really is food for the soul, it's history with pictures, a wonderful subject for anyone with their eyes open to ideas and creativity and, whether or not you love the art, it represents an aspect of human endeavour which shapes the world we live in.

Seems like nature’s doing a pretty good job too, it being so juicy green and blooming beautiful around here these days.

Best thing I ate;

Panino

Sometimes the best thing you eat has less to do with the actual food itself and more to do with the location in which you eat it, or the company you're with. So it was with my Panino con Tonno e Capperi, oily and delicious indeed, but it would hardly have drawn a crowd. 
However, add to it the location, (a bustling outside café under Vasari’s gracious loggia in the stunning town of Arezzo) the company, (two of my favourite Italophiles and fellow bloggers, the olive notes) a little sunshine and the famous Fiera Antiquaria.

Mix it all up and stick that in a Panino – ‘perfetto’!

New Year

12th January 2008

New Year and a time to reorganise, revitalise and prioritise. First of all (and most importantly), new boots - steel toe-caps, acid-proof, burn-proof, water-proof and rubbery. Next I have to start thinking about the year ahead. This is the big one and, if our project is going to work, we'll probably know by this time next year, so we have to get ourselves sorted. My job has now been split into two halves; morning and afternoons building (with new boots), and evenings trying to figure out how to use Dreamweaver and Flash to get our websites going (probably still in new boots). Not sure which is the hardest but, on balance, the frustrations of technology seem to outweigh those of a sledgehammer. My brain is being stretched and it doesn't like it.
Of course the antidote to all this is only about an hour away from us and is one of the reasons we are here. Florence.

Piazza della Signoria, Florence, at night.

We had to go over the Christmas period just to see what was going on and we weren't disappointed. The lights and the lighting proved to be as captivating and magical as we could have imagined, and even the children stayed the course with barely a murmur of discontent.
I haven't yet become used to, or complacent about, the fact that we are lucky enough to get onto the motorway a few miles from our house, and our choice of destinations, according to the big green signs, is as below. How could anyone grumble about that?

The stupidest thing I did today;
A new year and, so far, completely stupid-free.

Previous life

17th November 2007

In my previous life I would have liked to have been present at the illustrious gathering in Rome in 1546 during which Cardinal Farnese asked his bearded bumptious friend Giorgio Vasari to assemble a " catalogue of artists...". Perhaps I could have been the slightly faded courtesan in the shadows, dressed in second-hand silk with a whisper of ermine. I would have leaned in with naked curiosity as the conversation took its turn and Vasari paused to draw the breath that would exhale his magnus opus, 'The lives of the most excellent painters, sculptors and architects' - more comonly known as 'Vasari's Lives'.

Painted ceilings in Vasari's house, Arezzo

Born in Arezzo, Vasari initially trained as an artist and was very successful, but he obviously became so much more than that - in fact he became what Malcolm Gladwell calls a 'connector' with his finger on the very pulse of his day - a kind of impresario, remembered for his rather pedestrian painting and his innovative architecture, but most of all for his unique insight into the art history of the Renaissance.

His biographies are full of juicy snippets of gossip and, although many of his anecdotes have the ring of truth to them, I wouldn't be surprised if he'd made them up either and, frankly, I don't care. He is hugely opinionated and biased, but that's what makes him so readable. Love him or hate him, in the world of the Renaissance, it's hard to ignore him.

Vasari mada a fortune and bought himself a small palazzo in Arezzo "with enough space to make some beautiful vegetable gardens". We went there to have a look. The house is lovely; frescoes by his own hand, a visual ode to himself, and why not?

The Loggia in Arezzo, by Vasari

I'm glad he's not around to see the rather sorry state of his vegetable patch, though...

The best thing I ate today;

Coniglio alla porchetta (rabbit - don't tell the girls!)

Controversial I know, but I like a bit of rabbit. Growing up in the Norfolk countryside, it was something we ate quite a lot. I remember the excitement of my grandparents arriving on Christmas Eve, their car loaded with presents, and a seasonal Rabbit Pie for supper.

Fluff and cuteness aside, rabbit is, surely, a healthy and a free-range (or wild) ethical choice. Its mild, slightly gamey flavour is flattered by the oily aromatics of shrubby Mediterranean herbs as well as the aniseed flavour of fennel.

For lunch in Arezzo today, I chose 'Coniglio alla Porchetta' (roasted with fennel and squashed cloves of garlic). No veg, just a dish of spikey rucola which, with its peppery twang, creates a perfect pairing.

Where to get it;
Osteria Saraceno, Arezzo

Tip - It's called 'alla porchetta' only because the fennel is usually used to flavour pork - there's no pork in this dish.

A near perfect day

6th November 2007

Thankfully my declaration of Winter has proved to be a little premature and, as sometimes happens, the Gods conspire to throw together the makings of a near perfect day; blue skies, russet trees, the low mellow sunshine of Autumn - and Arezzo antiques market.

Arezzo Antiques Market - (1st weekend of every month)

This compelling jumble of tat and treasure is more of a spectacle than a place to procure a crafty bargain. We go with friends who claim to be on the lookout for large wooden rosary beads, “You know, big ones like the chief monk would have used”. We, on the other hand, are determined to buy nothing, steely in our resolve. It doesn’t last long, of course, and within the hour we are haggling over the price of an unfeasably large retro fan. Luckily, we are being tutored in the art of haggle by a ‘grand master’ and, after a flash of the cash and a strategic interlude (during which we visit San Domenico to discuss tactics under the gaze of Cimabue’s strikingly beautiful and asemetric crucifix) we return to the stall and clinch the deal. Kerching!

Crucifix by Cimabue in San Domenico - Arezzo

Arezzo is such a classy town, it was recently voted one of the best places to live in Italy (by Italians) and I can see why. Despite being full of Renaissance goodies it still manages to be alive and hip and trendy.

It was also home to the effusive artist/architect/writer Georgio Varsari, the ‘Nigel Dempster’ of the Renaissance and anyone who has a real interest in this period really must read his ‘Lives of the Artists’ (Volumes 1 and 2). They are sometimes acerbic, sometimes gushing but always fascinating - a bit like an historic ‘Hello Magazine’.

I say this was a near perfect day because, to make it perfect, you should really remember to book a table for lunch. We didn’t.

The Best thing I ate today;

Roast Pumpkin Risotto

I make this risotto a lot at this time of year and it’s very comforting; savoury, sweet and full of Autumnal goodness.

OK, this is more of an idea than a recipe because I’m sure most of the people reading ‘The best thing I ate’ have some idea how to cook.

A quantity of pumpkin depending on how many people you are feeding. Chop it into cubes and simmer half of it in a little stock until soft and then puree it. The rest, roast in the oven with olive oil, some branches of thyme and a sprinkle of sea salt.

Meanwhile, make a white risotto, with onions, garlic, white wine and stock and, just before it is ready, stir in the pumpkin puree with a slug of cream (or not) and lots of parmesan cheese. Just before you serve it add a handful of rucola and stir again. Serve with the roast pumpkin and thyme piled artfully on top.

I’ve also made this with small wedges of red onion roasted along side the pumpkin and served it without the rucola. Although it may seem like a pain to cook the pumpkin in two different ways, this risotto is all about texture as well as flavour. So give it a try.

Where to get it;
Make it yourself

Il Palio

14th August 2007

I love Siena.
It's so gracious and accessible, so beautifully planned, its wonderful 'campo' like a great shallow bowl, the herringbone bricks worn smooth with centuries of evening passeggiata. It is a perfect medieval whole with majestic towers looking out over the fields and vines of rural Tuscany in its undulating spleandour all around. There's something laid back about Siena, maybe it's because it is mainly pedestrianised, and you can browse and window-shop in the chic boutiques, gaze at the gothic palace facades, eat a take-away pizza in the campo or sip an aperitivo in one of the posh cafes.
The point is that you can understand Siena without having to set foot in a single museum, with its stripey Duomo and a glut of good restaurants there's enough to keep you at it day. If you want to go to a museum, which I usually do, there are loads; including the Palazzo Pubblico and the Campo which houses the marvellous equestrian portrait of Guidoricci da Fogliano, until recently attributed to Simone Martini. Martini Shmartini - I'm not really bothered who it's by, I just like to sit and look at it.
Next door the fabulous fresco, 'Good and bad in government' is also well worth a look.
But the thing that thrills me most about Siena is the mad hectic mayhem of Il Palio.

A bareback horserace around the campo, so full of energy and sheer excitement, and performed with such passion and intensity, it is one of the most spectacular events in Italy. Everything about it is riveting and frightening; from the intrigue of the loyal contrade and their brave, 'mercenary' riders to the violent frenzy of the race itself with the drums, the taunting songs and the swaggering winners. We took the girls and some friends to one of the trial races - the real thing having been deemed 'too scary for the young'uns' - which was packed with supporters and their children, the bleachers filled with young contrade dressed in their colours singing raucous songs and waving gaudy flags. We got a place on the inner rail opposite the Palazzo Pubblico and (this will give you an idea of how gripping it is) our girls - 6 and 8 years old - stood squashed and hot against that rail without moaning for over three hours.
Trial races are 30th June/1st July and 14th/15th August and the Palio (for real) is on the 2nd of July and 16th of August - if you dare!

Best thing I ate today;
A fig eaten straight from the tree
Early in the morning as the sun licks the mountains and rises in the sky, this must be one of the most voluptuous ways to start the day.
I have discovered two large wild fig trees weeping with ripening fruit. They are a vivid green with fine skins, some of them covered with pale delicate stretch-marks. Swollen and heavy and about to burst with ripeness. I could go on and on about how sexy they are, but it's all been said before. However, I must say that to tear one of these beautiful fruit apart and discover the warm, rosey sweetness inside is rather nice.
After an initial gorging I have been rifling through my cookery books for all things 'figgy' and am planning lots of good things including Jamie Oliver's 'Crostata di Fichi' ( Jamie's Italy).
So many figs, so little time...

Where to get them;
First crop figs arrive in June and July and are called 'Fiorone', the sweeter second crop is available from August until October on fig trees all over italy.

Montepulciano revisited

21st April 2007

Back in Montepulciano, and who can resist a ‘cappuccio’ (which seems to be what they call a cappuccino in these parts) in the Antico Caffé Poliziano, named after a renaissance poet who was obviously a big hit in Montepulciano (there is a palazzo named after him too). You won’t find any frescoes here though this is a rather decadent Art Nouveau tea room. With sumptuous upholstered banquettes, little marble tables and views from it’s pretty balconies that sweep across the Val di Chiana this is surely a place to indulge youself a little.
I once spent several hours in this elegant, Liberty style café while marito negotiated the finer points of the purchase of our casa with a wily estate agent across the road. The affable staff pretended to understand my terrible Italian and kept the children supplied with little titbits well beyond the call of duty. The coffee here is sublime and an aperitivo of your choice is beautifully presented on cute little trays with lots of lovely nibbly things.

The best thing I ate today;
It has got to be the ‘cappuccio’. This is my main addiction and I am a bit fussy about it. Aromatic, rich and smooth, its foaming top must be creamy and made with latte fresco, not UHT. Most importantly it must be hot and, surprisingly, sometimes it’s not in Italy. Maybe this is because they like to knock it back in one. I prefer to sip and linger perhaps in a nice café like Poliziano where they make it just right.

Where to get it:
On tap, practically everywhere in Italy.

Bella sorella

20th April 2007

My bella sorella has been staying for a few days and today we went to the lofty town of Montepulciano with it’s glorious array of renaissance palazzi and churches. We went in search of good wine and we weren’t disappointed. Up and up the narrow streets we went, pausing only for a few tastes of wild boar salami on the way. The tall one is learning a poem for school and our ascent is accompanied by the repetitious strains of ‘Nel cielo le nuvole giocano…..’, which is quite charming, to begin with. At last we reach the theatrical Piazza Grande, pass the mellow stone lion and griffin well and go into the dim interior of the Palazzo del Capitano where promising smells of must, cork and ageing wine envelop us.

First we try a Vino Nobile 2002. Dad, God bless him, was a wine importer so his girls have always been partial to a little ‘swirling and slurping’. Then we try an Avignonesi Vino Nobile Riserva 2004. A well remembered tip from Dad, “if a wine tastes good, don’t spit it out!”
We don’t.
After a few more sips we decide on 2 cases of Riserva, one for us and one for sis. She’ll be paying excess baggage on that then.

Best thing I ate today:
Avignonesi Vino Nobile di Montepulciano DOCG Riserva 2004. One of the classic Tuscan wines. Sip this wine and roll the soft sensual flavours around your mouth. Sun baking on dusty white roads…ripe fruit falling from the tree. Sip this wine and feel glad that God invented the grape.

Where to get it;
Some good supermarkets and enotecas but by far the most civilized place to procure it is Palazzo del Capitano, Montepulciano.