May 7, 2003
Our job is done. We tidied, organized and rearranged our hearts out. The villa is now ready for guests to enjoy the house without breaking or damaging valuable or sentimental things. We simplified rooms, moved some lamps and light furniture, and made copious lists for the caretaker. We had a really good time doing it. Elizabeth and I stayed up late, got dusty, got giddy and got a lot done. We wended our way back down through Chianti, stopping at Volpe (where they make some of the world's best vinegar.) and at a lovely old monastery whose name escapes me. (Who decides who makes the world's best anything?) We visited the Frescobaldi winery in Rufina, lunched and "dinner-ed", and even found time to visit a special iris vivaio outside Florence. It was a satisfying working vacation. Now, back to the heat in Umbria and the rush to get all the planting done.
May 4
Up early and off to Greve for the annual
flower show! Luckily, Sharon was also
interested in going. Elizabeth and I are
hard pressed to give up plant opportun-
ities. We were glad we'd made the effort.
The piazza was full of flower and plant
sellers. I saw some plants that we would
be hard pressed to find in Umbria. There
was a great herb and spice seller
proffering cilantro, bee balm and all sorts
of unusual thymes, sages, and rosemarys.
We chatted with a man who only sold
citrus... cedro, lemon, lime, grapefruit,
etc. in all sizes. I bought Elizabeth a
Meyer Lemon tree. She treated herself to
a lime. So the car will be full of the
heady citrus flower. We are irrepressible
shoppers.
May 3
This morning Elizabeth and I made tea,
ate a bit of Easter sweet bread and then
trundled off to visit Aldo Cardelli, the
local blacksmith. Almost from the moment I arrived, I have had it in my head to buy candelabra. All my life I've wanted them. Years of watching cartoons and old movies (a woman in a long dress sweeps down the staircase holding a candelabra) have seared this desire into my soul. Here in Italy, I would have my chance for something authentic, something handmade. I pictured myself walking down long corridors, shadows leaping away from my tall iron candelabra. Last December, I looked through Aldo's sample book and chose an unusual design. I did not opt for the single six candle black wrought iron I'd always imagined. Instead I decided on 2 smaller candelabra (3 candles each) with an antiqued red and gold design very Florentine.
In true Italian fashion, Aldo was almost ready for me. He proudly displayed the candelabra for my approval. Incongruously, they were wired for electricity. Useful, yes but not what I wanted. I want shadows dancing on long corridors, not practicality. "No? Va bene... come back Monday and we will have them changed. And everything will be packed up in boxes ready to go." He handed me the bill for the lot and we agreed to "ci vediamo lunedi" (see you Monday).
Elizabeth and I then proceeded to the train station to pick up friends who had come up for the day. Our itinerary included Imprugneta and various local artisans. It was unseasonably hot and muggy, but that made it feel more like vacation. Our first stop was Poggi & Ugo, a family business that has been hand crafting terracotta pots and decorations for some 500 years. It was a fantasy world of pots in all shapes and sizes... some so large you could hide a VW bug in them. Our friend Sharon thought they might make an interesting Jacuzzi. There were columns and pilasters and cornices, decorative medallions and plaques piled in corners and stacked in rows... all made by the folks who have supplied the wealthy villas of Florence for generations. Maybe it was the number of pots or the variety. At home, we see the same few designs in the same standard sizes. Here there were pots big enough to hold cypress trees. Lord, there were terracotta cypress trees! We walked all over the display yard, drooling over interesting shapes and textures. And we received free tips from the owner on how to prevent frost damage.
Dragging ourselves away, we drove 100 feet to a tiny, family-run cantina selling wine and olive oil -- La Quercia. Look for their label in the coming years. Both the oil and the wine were very good. The cantina was closed, so we knocked at the door of the house. A young woman with 2 small children greeted us. She was obviously cooking lunch, but remained all smiles and sent her son running down the hill to see if her husband was available. He was and we were dutifully led back to him, past the clothes line hung with damp t-shirts, khaki shorts and men's underwear.
The owner was in his 30s... tall and lanky, wearing a basketball shirt. Later, he confessed that he loved to play, but had ruined his knees. He was pleasant and quite serious about his wines. We tasted three, a solid table chianti, and 2 reserve wines that will be best after a couple years. He makes interesting, complex wines at a decent price... $5, $15 an $30, depending on the bottle. We all bought something, either wine or oil then hurried to the car so he might rejoin the family for lunch. It was blazing hot, a bad thing for wine and oil, and he insisted on supervising the loading of our car so he could best protect the goods. Such a good tempered guy. He let us interrupt his lunch, and then packed our car. La Quercia deserves great success.
We decided to head south, back toward Greve for lunch. (Everything is very close in the Chianti region.) Elizabeth knew of a restaurant where the owner recited Dante and served the best Bistecca Fiorentina around. Good choice. If you are passing along the Chiantigiana, look for La Padellina in the town of Strada.
La Padellina was packed with Italians and Dante memorabilia. A large volume of The Inferno was propped open at the door for everyone to read. We split two bistecca Fiorentina between the four of us. It is an amazing cut of meat from a specific type of steer raised in Tuscany. The steaks are huge, juicy and satisfying. The waiter brought 2 Flintstone-like steaks to the table and sliced large pieces for each of us. The bistecca is tender like a filet mignon, but much larger and with a bone. Our bus boy was a 12 year old Chinese boy. He was so self assured, so confident. He spoke to us in flawless Italian, asking if we wanted still water or bubbly water, red wine or white, etc. He inquired with such a serious, "I am doing my job" demeanor" that it was hard not to smile. Obviously, the kid has been working the restaurant for some time. His level of no nonsense confidence was striking. If he decides to take over the restaurant (even at 15), all will be well. When we were paying our bill, I asked him if I could take his picture. Very seriously, he replied "certainly" and he posed his tray of glasses and stared into the camera... no smile, no silly child grin, no shyness. "Certainly."
May 2
Elisabetta and I set off early for our little road trip. It's a working vacation. We have a lot to accomplish but the duties are enjoyable. There is a villa in the hills outside of Florence that is turning from a family home into a vacation rental. We are to organize the house so it is geared towards guests then research the "things to see and do" in the area. Finally, we will create a booklet for the guests with detailed information about the house and how things work, and our local discoveries (restaurants, artisans, interesting places to see.)
At about 8a.m., we crossed from Cortona to Siena and took the Chiantigiana (the main road through the Chianti region) up toward Florence. Elizabeth and I have similar approaches to travel. We wander well. Take a wrong turn? No worries keep driving and see where you end up.
It's a beautiful season... the fields are covered with red poppies and almost every wall is lined with pale blue wild iris. Elizabeth kept exclaiming, "Oh, I am so happy we are doing this!" and "Isn't that beautiful?!" We passed sweeping views of gray green olive trees set against dark cypress. Or newly sprouting grape vines, pale green leaves running off in a straight line over newly turned earth. Bounteous nature... lots of bird song and the thwap of bugs hitting the windshield.
Our path took us through Castellino, Panzano, Greve, Figline and Rignano sul'Arno. Elizabeth has read just about every book ever written about what to see in Tuscany. She has researched and come up with a list of "must sees" for folks renting the villa. Since most people do just a little reading about Florence and the surrounding area, we were gathering the info they might never find. And we were first hand validating the restaurants to be sure they were worthy of a recommendation. That is hard work, let me tell you. All that testing, tasting and talking
Panzano was a tiny town. They seem to be known for a celebrity butcher, Dario Cecchini. Dario has had his picture taken with Prince Charles. In fact, Dario has a calendar of... well, Dario... month by month. He also has printed a manifesto -- Dario's Approach to Meat and Its Place in the Tuscan Soul. He hasn't titled it like that. That is my summary... the Cliff Notes, if you like. One thing I will say, the salami and olives we bought were good. Whether they were better than every other butcher's salami and olives, I cannot say. But I pledge to keep researching until I have a definitive stance. If you are in Panzano, drop into Dario's for a copy of the manifesto. Its funny.
After Dario, what could possibly keep us in Panzano? Elizabeth knew of a little restaurant near the church. We took a path along the hillside, turned a corner and there was a gorgeous church looming above us. Beautiful stone work. Rather awe-inspiring as you stand, gazing upward. (Inside I saw a strange frescoe. To date, everything has been old... renaissance, baroque, etc. Or some modern frescoes but painted in the old styles. Panzano offered the first modern frescoe with modern subjects. It was strange. Like seeing a priest in his underwear or a gun on the altar.)
The ristorante (Il Vescovio) was just at the foot of the steps... a small building with dark wood shelves and lots of wine bottles. The terrace, looking over hillsides of olive and cypress trees, was bordered by iris and roses. Our table sat under the canopy of a large fig tree. At the table across, sat three handsome, leather clad Italian men taking a break from their motorcycle trip, a nice visual perk. Elizabeth thought they had Venetian accents. We ordered fettunta, a Tuscan bruschetta... thick slices of grilled bread rubbed with garlic and drenched in fresh olive oil. (It was the best fettunta we had on the trip.) Then, for me, insalata caprese, with the season's first ripe red tomatoes lapped by soft buffalo mozzarella, drizzled with bright green olive oil and a sprinkling of basil. So mouthwateringly delicious... Topped off with a café macchiato, we were good to continue the adventure.
On our way back to the car, we stumbled on a bright, airy shop that sold handmade shoes and leather clothing. You could see the leather cutters at work in the back room. You could touch the buttery suede skirts and jackets. The shoes were a grand temptation... simple styles -- sandals and loafers. But the presentation... loafers made from different leathers and color combinations -- apple green calfskin sides with a forest green ostrich front; or pink ostrich sides and a melon lizard skin front. Browns, greens, blues, pinks, yellows... a garden of shoes. But it gets better. A handsome caramel-colored suede skirt was displayed prominently. You could get it short and straight or long and full. The suede was supple and fine, more like wearing linen than leather. I was sorely tempted, but controlled the urge, consoling myself with the idea that I can always return to covet again.
Our next destination was Greve in the heart of the Chianti district. Greve has the loveliest piazza I've seen... a large lozenge shape bordered by shops and restaurants. Almost every building on the piazza had a loggia ringed with potted plants and vines. It was a lush and colorful piazza. We found good ceramics shops, a basket maker, art galleries, antique shops and embroidery stores. One or two souvenir shops were tucked in, but even they managed to be charming. We found things made by artisans we'd seen at local festivals. I became enchanted by a little shop full of handmade children's' clothing and hand-embroidered linens. Beautiful things. There were lovely smocked summer dresses in blues and pinks... a hand knitted teddy bear sweater... a sweet little straw purse with embroidered poppies. All a bit pricey, but considering its all made by Grazia, who we met... In fact, we met Grazia's daughter and her two grand daughters as well. The little girls were perfect advertisements for granny's handiwork, running about the piazza in hand smocked dresses. While we were there, I discovered that Sunday would be the annual flower market. I itched to talk Elisabeth into returning for it (we visit so many vivaios and garden centers) but wasn't sure she'd go for it.
After Greve, it was getting late so we cut over to the highway and the fast route to Florence and the villa. We arrived a bit before dark and settled in, hoping for a good rest before the week of work. The task is a bit daunting, as the villa is large and over full of things. We reconnoitered, made a basic plan of attack. The kitchen is our major focus, so we began sorted through a few things there, while sampling a little of the villa wine. (They make their own olive oil and wine from the villa orchards and vines) We snacked on the salami and olives we had bought while visiting Dario Cecchini. Then shuffled off to bed to gird ourselves for the attack.
May 1
It's the big festival to celebrate the working man. Everything is closed, people get in their cars to go to the beach or the local festival. Stefano and Paola took me to Montone for a teeny little locals-only festival. It was great! More like a backyard barbecue than a festival. The townsfolk has a big grill set up and made panini (sandwiches) of grilled sausage or pancetta. Next were the homemade desserts, and the ubiquitous local wine. And all they asked was a donation. Like a "pass the hat."
Montone is such a tiny town.... picture postcard beautiful. All winding streets and postage stamp gardens hidden behind high stone walls. Watching the people is illuminating. Typically Italian, people have lived there for generations. They know everything about each other and each others' families. You have two generations of country folk farm people. Their faces and bodies reflect the hard work and hot sun. Then, you have the next generations, the 40s and under, who could be from anywhere in Italy... no more weathered faces and scarred hands. It's the mall generation.
Tomorrow I head to Florence with Elizabeth. Altabella handles a villa in Rignano Sul Arno. The villa has always been a family home... a rich family home. Now, as the family funds dwindle to there last few million, they want to begin renting the property. So Elizabeth and I are off to put the villa in order and see what needs to be bought (and fixed) to bring it up to vacation rental standards. Hard life, eh? We will wind our way through the Chianti region doing some research for the guest booklet we have to create. Every Altabella house includes a booklet of information about the house, the surrounding area, shopping, restaurants, etc. Elizabeth and I are the lucky ladies that get to explore the area and create the book. And... we get paid. I am taking my computer and hope to include some Florence adventures next week. In around my workload, of course.
I've been very, very busy the last week or so. The rental season has begun and all the houses and gardens needed to be finished. La Quercia was in good shape already, but we have had major construction at La Pietra through the winter and early spring. Everything is coming down to the wire so we had to blitz the gardens and the house. The stonemasons, the carpenter, the electrician... all the guys were rushing in and rushing out, delivering, installing, hammering. I spend all day, every day in the garden or at the garden center buying plants. We got in all the geraniums around the windows and walls. I've put in a new herb garden and cleaned up all the beds. Now, all that remains is to add the summer plants as they come into the nurseries.
(An aside about workmen here. These men come to work everyday and at lunch, if they live too far away to go home, they eat a proper lunch on site. Some bring special dishes cooked by their wives. My favorite is our stonemason. I came into the house once to find him sitting at a sawhorse table, with a tablecloth, a plate and a cloth napkin. He was cooking sausages over a fire and had a bottle of homemade wine ready for his meal. Somehow, it was so right.)
I haunt the garden centers. They don't keep large inventories so you have to be quick to get the unusual things. My week was made when I found pineapple sage... 4 plants that looked kind of scruffy. They had not bounced back from the wintering over just yet. But it was pineapple sage and I've been searching for almost two years. I first saw it (and last saw it) when Elizabeth took a group of us to the medieval garden in Perugia and the garden centers in Camucia. That was two Octobers ago. If you have never seen pineapple sage, its an unprepossessing green herb. Its draw is the scent. When you crush the leaves they give off a strong perfume of pineapple. The plant can get big and has gorgeous, honeysuckle-like crimson flowers. Its really lovely. I got mine for free since they looked scraggly (and I bought over $100 worth of plants). I bought every pineapple sage they had... one for Elisabeth, one for La Pietra, one for Paola Cesari (and her first garden), and one for Paola Wright (my Italian teacher). I wish I could bring one home but I cannot think how to get it through customs.
2003
