Lardo, My Lardo · Jun 14, 07:41 AM by James Martin
Last night we took neighbor Armando to Terrarossa castle. He was singing there with the Coro Lunigiana. It was a benefit concert. Armando is a big and bronzed man; he sings bass.
I drove. As I inched my way timidly through the blockage in our crowded, park-anywhere-you-wish community lot, he posed a question that set me back. Way back.
“Did you eat the lardo?” he bellowed in his authoritative bass voice.
Armando raises pigs; Maiale good enough to make trophy salami. Earlier he had given us an enormous brick of lardo—larger than any I had seen in a store.
We had discussed his gift earlier. He wanted us to take some home to the US. We tried to dissuade him. I can’t imagine it’s legal. He figured otherwise. Shrink wrap cures all, he advised. Not in those exact words of course, but close. Armando doesn’t speak a word of English.
“Eat the lardo?” I repeated in disbelief. It had only been hours since he gave it to us.
“The whole thing? Martha added incredulously from the back seat.
Armando whirled in his seat, dervish quick. “Of course not the whole thing! That would kill you!” he said in a way that made it clear he was amazed that he had to explain these things.
I stopped the car. I couldn’t do the surgical backing out thing and think about the level of Lardo consumption an Italian would think reasonable at the same time.
“No, he said, if you want to take some home I’ll give you more, a bigger package.” This one, he explained, was to eat here. My mind did not have the capacity to imagine a larger package. Of lardo.
We have five days to go in Italy, As much as I love lardo, I was getting painted into a corner. One one hand, I’m sure my arteries look like the kinda pipes the rotor rooter man likes to make you look at on the TV so you’ll give him a bunch of your hard-earned money with no questions asked. I’m just as sure that eating good, natural food and being happy about it is also a key to long and happy life (ok, maybe just a happy one, but who has those these days?). In any case, that’s how I keep from thinking, as most of my countrymen do, that a few, paper thin slices of lardo are going to do me in pronto, or at least anytime soon. But eat maybe a kilo and a half of lardo in 5 days?
You gotta admit, that’s a bit much.
So, um, you wanna come over? We have lardo a plenty. We have wine. We even have beer and bread.
Free. If you’re nice, maybe I’ll even kick in a little for gas.
(Here’s more on Lardo if you have no idea of what I’m talkin’ about. Mmmm, especially melted over grilled bread. Maybe now is the time to start drawing down the supply…)
Filed in: Food The Lunigiana
Lunigiana Traditional Music - Il Coro Lunigiana · Jun 6, 11:43 AM by James Martin
When my neighbor Armando invited me to his chorus practice, I had no idea of what to expect. Armando makes fine salami from the pigs he raises here in the Lunigiana, but singing?
So, on a moonlit night we followed him in his moto as we navigated the dark and windy roads of the Apennines. We arrived at a former Capuchin monastery, part of which is now an agricultural school for high-school age kids (some of who stay there the whole week). We had walked to the monastery before. It was much longer in the car.
We entered a side door to what appeared to be the church. It was full of trophies and memorabelia from the many concerts given all over the world by Il Coro Lunigiana.
And the sound! Ha! What sound! Layers of it. You should hear some.
May I present Il Coro Lunigiana, The Video
Filed in: Living in Italy The Lunigiana
Why I like living in the Lunigiana · May 28, 10:40 AM by James Martin
Maybe because yesterday’s spectacular thunderstorm cleared the air and we were just making the scenic drive back from lunch at Spino Fiorito, which was spectacular as usual:
Spaghetti with tomato, tuna and pancetta (the pork and fish combo is a trademark of the Spino Fiorito kitchen; we’ve had pasta with fresh trout and lardo as well and it was better than you could possibly imagine)
Linguini with fresh capers, black olives, cherry tomatoes, basil, and anchovies
Rabbit in umido (good lord, the sauce! It took almost all the bread they had to fare la scarpetta or “make the shoe” to clean up the sauce clean offa the plate)
Beans with onions for the contorno.
Including dessert, coffee water and a bottle of wine: €10 each.
Then, you drive home and see this:
And…you can see it bigger! Yes, it’s the View from Terenzano!
Filed in: Food The Lunigiana
Sagra di Porchetta · May 3, 08:53 AM by James Martin
You couldn’t ask for a more beautiful day for a sagra. And you couldn’t ask for a better food to create a festival around than porchetta.
Yes, it’s that season again, when folks gather around picnic tables and get fed huge amounts of great food in a communal setting under the shade trees of a tiny village. This sagra was special. No plastic appeared. We drank from real glass and ate off real plates, as you can see in the picture. Life is good.
And cheap. The pasta (Panzarotti with ricotta and greens inside), a helping of porchetta (slices of young wood-roasted pig stuffed with herbs and pepper) and patate fritti (ahem, “French” fries if you must, or fried potatoes), along with a big bottle of fizzy water and a piece of torta d’erbe (a local favorite pastry with greens and onions inside) cost all of €15 and I’m stuffed.
(Want to attend a sagra in Italy? Just look for the sagra signs.)
Filed in: Italy Festivals The Lunigiana
Looking for Bargains in Italy Travel? Go Rural · Apr 26, 02:08 AM by James Martin
Sure, the rural life isn’t for everyone—and if you’re planning your first trip to Italy, you’ll want to see at least two of the big three, Florence, Rome, and Venice, before you venture out into the wilds. Once you have those under your belt, you might be surprised at the value and the culture of hinterlands like the Lunigiana.
Last night we did an archaeological tour of a famous Romanesque church, had a drink and some snacks in a medieval piazza while listening to a band play. It was a holiday weekend. How much did all this cost?
Ok, here’s the set up. We’re in Pontremoli, a very important market town in the 11th and 12th centuries. We’re sitting in a bar in the Piazza della Republica at around 6:15. We ordered a glass of prosecco, sparkling wine, and a Campari Soda (yes, the glasses were full before I had the idea to take a picture). Food came: torta d’erbe, bits of pizza and focaccia, chips, peanuts—enough for a small meal.
So what do you think the price was? Ready? €4.50 for everything. We gave the waitress a five and left. She came running after us with the change, not expecting a tip at all.
The archaeological tour of the Pieve Sorano was free, the food was free, the drinks were €2 and €2.50 each. You don’t get those kinda prices in Rome. And just in case you think we’re in the middle of a nowhere piazza, here’s what we’re looking at:
This kind of thing happens all over Italy. Try the Marche, or the Abruzzo or Puglia (where we’ll be next week). Learn a little Italian, especially the polite words, and have yourself a big, heaping helping of Italian culture by renting a vacation house and hitting the hinterlands some day. You can thank me later.
Filed in: Italy Travel Tips The Lunigiana
Those Darn Italian Handymen · Apr 23, 11:25 AM by James Martin
We recently bought a pellet stove for our house in the Lunigiana. Why? Well, foreigners pay more for energy in Italy. Evidently a lot more. Heating, even in a mild spring or fall, was pretty darn costly. So, we wised up. We saw our neighbor’s stove and asked her where she got it.
It turns out she had a cousin who sold stoves. He even spoke English. That’s where she got hers. She’d even drive us to her cousin’s place to get ours.
What luck.
So we went and ordered the stove. It cost about $1000 less than it would cost in the US. It even has a clicker. You know, the kinda thing you use to change TV channels.
It arrived last week. We arranged with Giuseppe, the cousin, to have it installed by Gianpaolo. Gianpaolo would take cash. About €250 of it. He would arrive at 8:30 on Thursday morning. Today.
Well, Gianpaolo arrived at 8:15. He put a hole in the roof and installed the chimney. He found some roof tiles broken. He replaced them, too. Clean installation, no problems
We had been having some problems with mold in a corner of the bathroom, however, so he tool a look. He found the problem. Roof problem. He showed me the picture he took with his cell phone, then shimmied back to the roof and did a quick fix. He would have to come back with some copper sheet to make it exactly right.
At three o’clock the stove was putting out copious amounts of heat, burning off the new smell.
Gianpaolo was ready to go. “How much,” Martha asked, expecting to add a small pile of big bills to the original estimate.
“€200,” said Gianpaolo. He then proceeded to argue that he had to buy extra parts besides having to supply the new roof tiles himself, because we didn’t have a clue as to where new ones might be.
Yessir. €50 under the estimate. And he fixed two roof tiles and the problem with water in the corner of the bathroom.
Dammit, why did this have to happen to me?
Shoot, I’m a travel writer living in a foreign country fer god sakes. These Italians have no damn right to just fix things up and leave.
Here’s the thing: I can’t get rich if locals I hire just up and do a job like they’re supposed to. It’s not like Italians just renovated the big house in “Under the Tuscan Sun” and then left to do another fine job. No sir. They screwed it up. Like they’re supposed to. A cloud of plaster dust rose from their incompetence like a fuming Vesuvio to consume all. Well, most.
If you’re not a writer, or even a reader, let me clue you into something: this story has tension. It will (did) sell like hotcakes. When the load-bearing wall in Cortona is knocked down and the roof caves in, the owner slaps her educated forehead just like Ollie and the workers shrug their inadequate shoulders and you’re thinking, “oh my God those Italians! What will happen next with these third-world dunderheads!” Eventual, of course (Phoenix-like (without the cactus)) a house of incomparable beauty will spring from the ashes. All is well that ends with a beautiful house.
You see, when that hole went through my roof, the whole deal was supposed to collapse. Then I would slap my forehead, too. (I would also think of my dwindling bank account, but then again, I am neither Diane Lane nor Francis Mayes.)
Eventually, the lovable goof-up in my story would fix the roof, paint a fresco on it, and do the job he was paid to do so beautifully you’d think the stove was some sort of modern day Stradivarius. I’d add one pellet the size of a rat turd every two days and live comfortably warm through the winter. He’d come to tune ‘er up every once in a while and we’d share some Vin Santo and he’d give me a prosciutto.
And I’d write a book about him. Then, I’d rip out the damn stove.
Yeah, I’d finally be rich enough to afford the gas.
I gotta go. It’s hotter than hell in here.
Filed in: Living in Italy The Lunigiana
Artisanal Cheeses and Zeri Lamb in the Lunigiana · Apr 16, 12:43 AM by James Martin
One of the things that makes me happy is finding a store full of local, hand made cheeses, local wines, and prized local lamb. I found one yesterday.
Naturalmente Lunigiana has been on my radar for a while. It wasn’t until we got in the car and drove toward north towards Pontremoli that the anticipation of what we saw on the web site started to make me salivate. There’s nothing like seeing craggy, moldy, cheeses to get the juices flowing.
Along the SS62 from Aulla to Pontremoli, especially near Scorcetoli where Naturalmente Lunigiana has a blistering white roadside store, you pass lots of enticing places just right for foodie larder-stocking. Organic fruits and vegetables, wine, olive oils and even Lunigiana Lumache (them’d be snails to you. Mmmm).
Anyway, look at those cheeses. They’re not in some fu-fu store strangled in plastic wrap, as you can see. They’re aged and they show it.
And, we found, they don’t cost an arm and a leg either.
We bought two hand made cheeses. They cut them small as you like. One piece cost us €1.29, the other €0.72. Each was priced at €15 per kilogram, about $10 a pound. Check prices of your local artisanal cheeses in the US. You probably can’t beat these prices. It’s one third of the price of hand made cheeses sold in San Francisco.
This time of year the shop also carries Zeri lamb—the best Tuscan lamb around from lambs raised in Zeri, which is a loose confederation of small villages west of Pontremoli. (The first time we looked for it, we were confounded that there wasn’t a town named Zeri.)
Man, I’m tellin’ ya, season up some Zeri lamb up, slap it on a hot iron plate, and if the smells don’t make you happy happy, then you aren’t capable of happiness.
Find out more about Naturalmente Lungiana and gawk at the artisanal cheeses. See our Lunigiana restaurant map. There will soon be an artisanal food products locator map as soon as the research is complete.
And believe me, there is no better job on earth.
Filed in: Food The Lunigiana
The Empty Piazza · Apr 13, 02:04 AM by James Martin
There are two things that never fail to bring on a feeling of melancholy sadness to me. One of them is a shuttered seaside resort on a bleak, gray winter’s afternoon. The other is an empty piazza, devoid of life. This one in Aulla is particularly evocative because of the half-hearted attempts at placing lights in windows or on balcony railings for pasquetta* celebrations.
“Sad,” it says to me. Triste, in Italian.
—-
*Pasquetta is the day ofter Easter. A quiet day. You picnic, take long walks with your family, or attend a market or fair. We’re going to one in Bagnone today.
Filed in: The Lunigiana Living in Italy