Fun on the Farm: Montepulciano, Episode Two

I'm in Lucca, a lovely Tuscan town which I'm enjoying immensely. I was in Siena, which I didn't much like, and before that exquisite Assisi. I have lots to tell you, but first I need to back up a bit and wrap up some unfinished stories.

La Bruciata, the agriturismo outside Montepulciano, was a wonderful experience. I've told you of my neighbors in the other three apartments, all of us there for a week except the German family who were staying on for another, their customary two-week summer vacation while pretty daughter Sarah is out of school. Heike and Axel, Sarah's parents, are a delight: Axel always beaming with joy at whatever odd thing is going on at the moment; Hieke tall, graceful, friendly.

The other family, from Belgium, were also easy to have around. I didn't get to know them all, but toward the end I made a wonderful connection with Mikke, the mother. Her son told me that Mikke is a visiting sort-of nurse. What she actually does is visit the parents of newborn babies and make them comfortable with their new responsibility. Believe it or not, this, in Belgium, is a government job. She makes sure the babies are flourishing and gives advice on everything regarding care and feeding. She also offers her considerable maternal warmth and humor to the mamas, who often need mothering as much as the babies.

I was not surprised to hear that this was Mikke's forte. She is a warm, earthy, and very funny woman, always willing to laugh and have second helpings.

On our last Friday there, we had a party. This was mostly the doing of Peter from New Zealand, whose wife had her birthday on that day. At around five o'clock, just as I was eyeing my bed for a wee siesta, there was a tap on my door. It was Peter, laden with two wine bottles, glasses, and a platter of fruit and cheese, inviting me to the gazebo beside the pool for a get-together. The whole group convened, pulling up chairs and running in for more wine glasses. As I sat, the group broke into applause for me, my congratulations for "graduating" from Il Sasso language school, which I had celebrated earlier with a big plate of eggplant parmigiana.

We were just settling in to share stories of our daytrips when up the grass hill came Laura and Marina with a surprise. They had baked and decorated a birthday cake, which they presented with happy smiles.

I looked at the cake. "Ginny," I said softly. "Cute how they spelled your name."

"But that is how I spell my name," replied Kiwi Ginny, errr, Jenny.

"Huh?" I said. Then I realized that Peter said "togither" and "frinds"...and Jenny described things as "the bist iver", and suddenly the surprise spelling on the surprise cake made sense to me. That darn New Zealand accent.

We all ate a huge piece of cake or two, then separated, as the German family and the Belgian family were having their cooking lesson in the kitchen that night. Peter, Jenny and I had already had ours earlier in the week. We didn't know what we were going to learn. Marina's idea was that we should learn to make pici, the ubiquitous and favorite pasta of Tuscany.

Marina mixed flour with salt, added an egg yolk and then a healthy dollop of their own olive oil. Nothing was measured: like any good Italian cook, it's all done by eye and by feel.

She kneaded the dough to just the right consistency. Check those forearms. She does this often. Beside her is her granddaughter Elisa, age 3, her daughter Laura and baby Emma. This is a family kitchen.

Peter and Jenny are always ready for fun. Marina cut strips of dough and handed them out for hand-rolling.

It's not as easy as it looks...but fortunately pici is meant to be irregular. That's what gives it the interesting texture as one devours it later. The board that I'm working on belonged to Marina's grandmother and weighs a ton.

As I rolled pasta (it would be dredged in coarse corn flour in order to keep the strands from sticking together), Marina worked on the meat course: rabbit. She chopped it up, tossed it in a pot with olive oil, sage, and salt, and put it on to cook. When the juices were reduced and the meat sizzling in the pan, she added sieved homegrown tomatoes and a lot of wine, then continued cooking it until we were ready to eat.

Meanwhile, we all went out to the garden to pick tomatoes for our salad.

The garden had such bounty besides the tomatoes: delicious sweet pears, nectarines, salad greens, herbs, olives, melons, and more.

When we got back to the kitchen, Emma's grandpa was visiting.

Soon enough, Marina sent us into the dining room and began bringing out our food.

It was delicious, considering we amateurs had made the pasta, and we washed it all down with homemade sangiovese wine.

The night of the going-away/birthday party, I ducked into the kitchen and took some photos of Heike, Axel, and Sarah from Dusseldorf...

...and of Heike doing a fine job of pici-rolling.

We all said our goodbyes that night, as some were getting on the road early. I'm delighted that I decided to include a Tuscan agriturismo in my travels, and I really don't see how one can do much better than La Bruciata, Montepulciano.

Grazie mille, le mie amiche!

Comments

[Char]

Lovely time, I am so glad I don't have to wait until Friday for posts anymore...journey on my friend, I'm loving it!

[Travis]

Your fellow guests sound as delicious as the food looks! How wonderful. (Note to self: Cut off the credit card just prior to anticipated departure by ferry from Sicily....leaving the Manchild of San Panchito stranded.)