A Tuscan View - from Umbria

Casual obsession

Having to get the car fixed is never a good thing. We end up stranded and a little helpless. However, when you get it fixed at a garage with a sign like this one, it makes it all seem worthwhile, to me at least.
My casual obsession with typography meant that I spent quite a few minutes waiting for the light to catch this sign ‘just right’, much to the amusement of the mechanic, who now joins the ever-increasing number of Italians who think I'm a buffoon...

The stupidest thing I did today;
Allowing a friend to introduce the children to the wonderful world of ponies.

Last Supper

Even Italian summer holidays have to come to an end and, last week, that end finally came.  The girls went back to school.  Half-days only at first, to help them get over the shock, I suppose.  We had a 'last supper' under the twinkling fairy lights marito has rigged up in the pine tree and talked about the highlights of the Summer, “getting my arm back” for the small one and “going to the sea’ for the tall one. So that’s that.  The long holiday is over for another year.

 Whooping with delight (they really were that bored), and dressed in clean ‘grembiulis’ (a kind of apron favoured by all Italian schools) and loaded down by the obligatory enormous ‘zainos’ (rucksacks), the girls fairly ran into school that first morning.  They left us light with relief and freed of responsibility, a celebratory cappuccino was definitely in order.

Grembiuli 

But something else had happened, something subtle, a slight shift of sensibilities. At the school gates we were no longer known as ‘stranieri’ (foreigners - that strange and wary word), but with some slight affection we seem to have become ‘Inglesi’ (English) and that, for me at least, is triumph enough.  Because I know what the locals have always known: that no matter how wide our vocabulary, how good our accent, what team we choose to support or the depth of our tans, deep in our souls we will never be Italian.
But that’s OK by me, just give me a cappuccino and I’m happy to watch.  After all, they are so much better at it.

The best thing I ate today;

More bruschette! Yes I know I’ve been banging on about bruschette all Summer and, if truth be told, I am a little obsessive when it comes to food.  I get kind of stuck in a groove, the impulse to keep on perfecting a recipe takes over and, before I know it, we are eating bruschette every day of the week.

Well, there’s nothing wrong with that. It’s delicious in all its forms and makes a perfect, healthy lunch, or antipasti, or breakfast, or dinner… midnight snack anyone?

Here they are, the last of the Summer season, until next year.

Bruschette con pepperoni

3 red peppers
Olive oil
Sea salt and ground black pepper
1 tablespoon good balsamic vinegar (but there’s no need to take out a loan)
A teaspoon of fresh thyme leaves
1 glove of garlic peeled and cut in half
6 slices of country bread

De-seed the peppers and cut them into strips.  Heat some olive oil in a heavy based pan and sauté the peppers until they begin to soften, then add the balsamic vinegar and the thyme leaves. Continue to cook on a low heat for about 10 minutes (the idea is that the peppers begin to caramelize) but add a little water if they get too dry. Season with salt and pepper to taste.  Meanwhile toast your bread (try and use a griddle if possible because I’m sure it tastes better) rub one side of the toast lightly with the garlic, pile on the peppers and drizzle over with a little more olive oil.

Bruschette con spinaci

3 handfuls of left over spinach
Olive oil
Sea salt and ground black pepper
Nutmeg
1 glove of garlic peeled and cut in half
6 slices of country bread

Re-heat the spinach in a heavy based pan, stir in 2 tablespoons of olive oil and add a good grating of nutmeg.  Season with salt and pepper to taste.  Toast bread as before and rub lightly with the garlic. Pile on the spinach and drizzle with more olive oil.

Bruschette con pomodori

Surely everyone knows how to make this.  If not, email me.

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!

A weekend off with SpongeBob

3rd March 2008

It's not often that I take a weekend off, as I like to impress on Vladimir that I'm not a 'gentleman builder' or an idler. Despite my efforts he still seems unconvinced. So, this weekend, which featured my small daughter's Birthday and party, I decided to have a break.

Tools down for the weekend

The birthday girl filled my weekend by introducing me to her latest obsession, the 'SpongeBob Squarepants Patty Panic' game, and within minutes I was a 'competitive dad' again. Please don't look it up, mostly because it's rubbish, but also because you'll then be tempted to try to beat my highest score ( a magnificent 19,525) which would be impossible.

Anyway it was the birthday of the new (almost grown up) bicycle. Everyone can remember 'that' birthday, it's such a great gift and it represents so much more than the sum of its parts, even for a seven-year-old.

However, all that is behind us now , as the week has begun with a return to the building site, and with a few strange questions left unanswered;
1. Why did my lovely wife bake an even lovelier cake and then leave it at dog-height for 30 seconds?
2. Why did I spend so long with SpongeBob this weekend? and, most worrying of all,
3. What does my wife mean when she says that the "building is talking to us"?

The stupidest thing I did today;

Inadvertently offering up a challenge to all other competitive Alpha males (and females), and now expecting a small flurry of made-up scores.

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.

Machiavelli

24th November 2007

Machiavelli spent a few nights, they say, at Castiglione del Lago, a beautiful little walled town on the shores of Lake Trasimeno, 15 minutes drive away from us. It juts out into the lake, in a shape that resembles the uvula at the back of your throat. No-one seems to like that analogy, but it is reasonably accurate and I'm sticking with it.

The view from the fort onto the lake at Castiglione Del Lago

Anyway, he stayed at the fort and, coincidentally, we live (and my children go to school) in the same Comune. So, with Machiavelli firmly in mind, I offered my voluntary services to the teachers at the school, expecting nothing more that a polite rebuff whilst, at the same time, hoping for a little more credibility when, next year, I offer an after-school Art club.

That was two weeks ago.

Today I found myself reading an English version of Charles Dickens', 'A Christmas Carol' to 53 eight year olds and 4 teachers in a tiny classroom, and more nervous than in any of my 15 years teaching Art in England. I have to help prepare them for their Christmas play and, because of my big mouth, also have to get stuck into the set decoration as well. Fortunately, in Italian schools the last day of term is Christmas Eve, so there is exactly one month to do it... what could possibly go wrong?

The stupidest thing I did today;

Bad one today.

I am a single dad/mum this week and one of my more peculiar duties was to sew the elastic on two new pairs of ballet shoes for the girls. All was going well until I was discovered by, none other than, our manly builder in mid-stitch!

There was nothing I could do - no amount of manly posturing or grunting could get me out of this one. Ten months of careful image-building lost in a single 'moment of madness'. He's probably still shaking his head now, though to be fair, I did a pretty good job with those bits of pink elastic and he may have been secretly impressed by my fine motor skills.

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.