This is one of those times of the year when life takes over and blogging simply has to take a back seat for a little while, so this is just a quickie to wish you all a wonderful Christmas, to thank you all for reading, commenting, supporting and encouraging us during the year, and to hope that you all have a happy and healthy 2009. xx
It has rained for 3 weeks, 5 days and 8 hours - almost non-stop and almost biblical - and the sound of ‘rain on roof’ is becoming strangely hypnotic. However, despite flood warnings from our Italian neighbours and the sight of the eco warriors on the hill building what looks like an ark, we decide to pop into Arezzo to look at the Christmas lights and do a spot of shopping. We put a bucket under the drip that’s coming in from the bedroom ceiling and head off.
It’s late afternoon and Arezzo is ablaze with festive cheer and, despite the rain, a good old-fashioned Christmas passeggiata is in full swing. White lights are strung across the narrow streets leading up to the main Piazza Grande and, while the lower town is buzzing with activity, Vasari’s loggia and the beautiful square up in the old town are strangely deserted. The flagstones gleam wetly in the lamplight and footsteps echo in the chilly dusk.
Traders, who have spent the day setting up for the weekend’s antique fair, have bundled up their treasures under drab tarpaulin wraps and gone to ground. The last, and most conscientious, check the ties and straps for security before heading silently to the bar.
That this vast array of antiquities is left untended overnight is amazing, but there is something quite forlorn about it too, with the empty darkening square and the unattended tables waiting, solemn and sodden, in the rain.
Back on Corso Italia, gifts are carefully chosen and lavishly wrapped. Little hands clutch warm paper cones of roasted chestnuts and, although the rain comes and goes in fierce gusts, all seems well with the world. Unless the bedroom ceiling’s fallen in, that is.
Best thing I ate:
Chestnuts roasting on an open fire
I have to say that there is something wonderfully ‘winter wonderland’ about buying roast chestnuts from a street vendor’s blazing brazier, although the ones we bought were mighty expensive. Far cheaper and much more fun is to invest in a traditional chestnut roasting pan (a frying pan with holes in the bottom) and then, providing you have an open fire or wood burning stove, you can while away the cosy winter evenings roasting your own.
Cut a little slash in the skins of your chestnuts, fill the pan with a single layer and roast them amongst the glowing embers. They will take approximately 10-15 minutes, depending on the heat of your fire. Remember to give the pan a good shake every now and then to avoid too much charring. They make a fantastically seasonal fireside snack or a fine dessert, paired with a slab of Gorgonzola and a glass of luscious Vin Santo which seems to intensify the sweet, smoky flavour.
Let it rain, let it rain, let it rain…
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.
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.
19th December 2007
I know I’m generalising, but little girls love dolls and little boys love diggers. By the age of 40, I honestly thought I had grown up and had gone beyond that stage of my life. I assumed it would be just mine and my friends’ children who would stare into the toyshop window and gaze in wonderment at the latest Barbie/Brat/Cindy/Winx club monstrosity, or the enormous remote-control yellow plastic crane.
And then today it arrived at our house – something so beautiful it almost took my breath away. A giant yellow digger. It makes holes the size of oil drums and as deep as you want, but I don’t really care what it does (even though after it has finished, our house should be able to survive the next millennium without moving even a fraction of an inch). It’s just how it looks that got me. It could be 50 or 60 years old, it might have dug ten thousand holes, but it’s Christmas, and I want it. I want Santa to somehow get it down the chimney and stick it under the tree with my name on it.
Many who look at this beast will never understand or appreciate its beauty, but one or two might and, for those one or two, you’re welcome to come over to my house on Boxing Day and have a play on my new digger. We can spend the day digging some unnecessary holes in the garden.
The stupidest thing I did today;
Letter to Santa
7th December 2007
Two little girls are glad to see me; brown eyes shining in squirrely faces, gappy smiles and vanilla flavoured sticky kisses. Marito, slightly weary but triumphant (smug even) after 10 days single parenting, is glad to see me. Tufo, wagging his entire doggy body, is glad to see me. Even the deaf cat manages a purr. I am back were I belong, back to fill the me-shaped space that has been waiting. Our house, standing on the hill, its lights glowing in the dusk, is glad to see me, and I am glad to be home.
Letter to Santa, just before it disappeared up the chimney
I have arrived to a house full of Advent calendars, letters to Santa and persistent requests to "Please get the crib out so that we can play with Baby Jesus".
There is always some debate about this as Marito feels it necessary to point out that baby Jesus should not strictly be in the crib until Christmas Day. However, as it is impossible to play the 'Baby Jesus and his Family' game without the main character, the small one and the tall one get their way. As usual.
The Three Kings - early and confused
The best thing I ate today;
Baked beans on toast.
If this was the best thing I ate today it must have been the best thing the girls had eaten for ages judging by the whoops of delight when I produced two tins of Heinz Baked Beans from my bag.
It's not immediately obvious, but there is an art to making the perfect beans on toast; the beans, Heinz of course, must not be too wet, they must be cooked on a high heat to reduce the syrupy tomato sauce to a beany sludge and then dolloped on to crisply toasted sliced white bread of the lowest possible quality which has been thickly smeared with enough butter to choke a horse. A few grinds of black pepper, maybe a dash of Lea and Perrins Worcestershire sauce and there you have it. Delicious!
January 6th, 2007.
On ‘Befana’, we went to Citta della Pieve. It was a beautiful Wintery day, very cold but with bright golden sunshine and, at three o’clock, a small crowd began to gather in the main square and along the street leading to one of the churches.
We walked along with the crowd, wondering what was going to happen. Everyone was very friendly and when they saw the children they told us to go and wait by the church where we found lots of other excited children.
In the distance, slowly riding towards the church through the old stone streets, came the Three Kings on their horses. They were magnificently dressed and the horses were decorated with gold and silver bridles. Each King held his gift and they rode past us and right inside the church. We all followed them in and watched while the Kings dismounted and solemnly gave their gifts to a real life Mary, Joseph and baby Jesus.
After this the local priest (I think) came round giving all the children a glow-in-the-dark baby Jesus (which the small one loves) and bags of sweets (which the tall one loves).
It was fantastic.
Citta della Pieve
Best thing I ate today;
Zuppa di Ceci - (Chick Pea soup) - This mellow, grainy soup, fragrant with Rosemary and slick with olive oil is like eating a bowl full of Tuscany!
Where to get it;
'La Solita Zuppa' - a very 'proper' Italian Osteria, in Chiusi, specialising in traditional Tuscan Cuisine. It has a small delicious menu using local produce. The atmosphere is always lively and you can tell that the owners are passionate about their food.
January 6th, 2007.
There is a tradition in Italy on January 6th to celebrate the arrival of the Three Kings and the giving of their gifts. The Italians call it ‘Befana’, after a kind old witch who gave the Three Kings food and shelter on their way to Bethlehem. They asked her to join them but, as she was too busy, she refused. Regretting her decision she set off to follow them, but lost her way and, to make sure she did not miss the Holy Baby, she gave a gift to every good child she met, and a piece of coal to every naughty one!
So children leave their shoes under the Christmas tree to see what they will get. As you can imagine, our two, the tall one and the small one, woke up very early that day, hoping. Surprisingly they didn’t get any coal and got a few tiny presents in their shoes. So it works, even for non-Italians!
Befana
Best thing I ate today;
Roast Fennel (a casa)
How to make it;
Neaten up 2 fennel bulbs, top and bottom, and slice them roughly lengthways. Put them in a shallow roasting dish in a single layer, drizzle olive oil over them, sprinkle with sea salt and roast in a hot oven for about 10 to 15 minutes. When you remove them, pour about a wine glass, half full of good vegetable stock and half full of white wine. Back in the oven for 10 more minutes, by which time they should be soft, slightly caramelised, and delicious
December 24th, 2006.
On Christmas Eve we went to an old Umbrian hill town nearby. In the chill gathering dusk the soft red brick and terracotta roofs of Citta della Pieve gave out a comforting warmth. The town was strung with white lights running through the narrow streets and the churches were open and filled with candles. The nativity cribs were so intricate and life-like that our children were mesmerised and everywhere smelt wonderful; incense, woodsmoke and candlewax.
In the streets they were roasting chestnuts and mulling wine on huge medieval wagons and handing it out to passers-by. It was the most Christmassy Christmas Eve any of us had ever had, and the strangest.
The best thing I ate today;
Roast Chestnuts - not sure whether it was the man in tights who gave them to me or the cold night air, but these were, by far, the best I've ever had.
Where to get it;
The streets of Citta della Pieve, probably only in December.
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