Our Italy. Past & Present.

This will be my final blog post for Luglio (2013). See you next year, and thanks so much for following.

Twelve years ago, my father wrote a brochure for a Tuscan villa, for which he took a week at the property in lieu of cash. We four lucky Lynches got to tag along with my folks. This year, since we were visiting Siena (very near this villa), Owen suggested we find “our” villa. And that we did. It was much easier than one would expect—with an iPad in the car and the MAPS app, anything is possible. And easy.

Barbara, the proprietor’s daughter, whom we had not met 12 years ago, lives there now with her young family. She found us snooping around and asked if she could help us. We explained ourselves and all the walls came down and we are now Facebook friends. We have history. And memories. 

Here are our pictures, past and present:

                

         

Festival of Steak

Two years ago, we stumbled upon a festival…think bean supper crossed with the North End of Boston—one of those Saint celebrations they have on Saturday nights in the summer. These Festas, or Sagras, are all over Italy in the summer. The year we stumbled upon one was over-the-top fun. We were doing one of our day trips, exploring, driving, stopping, snooping around, and came upon one of these town-wide celebrations. This one was in honor of Hunting and Fishing. So there were huge long tables set up, and a team of “soccer moms” in matching tee-shirts cooking up fish and game. You paid some flat fee and filled your plate with tons of food and got a bottle of wine in a green label-less bottle. (Homemade.) It was a blast. We only wished we were at home and/or with friends because everyone else was with friends. If we had this in Winchester, it would be amazing. But they couldn’t serve wine like this at home….. hence, we Americans have things like church suppers.

This year, I found a website listing all the Festas in the region. We set our sights on the Festa della Bistecca (steak) in nearby Soriano Nel Cimino. We grabbed Karen, our friend and Fred’s TA for the summer, and set out. 

We assumed it would be in the town center. Wrong. I asked some guy sitting in his car—with his shirt unbuttoned all the way down to his waist—who told us where the festa was……totally far away. But since we were already parked, we did some exploring there. (There was a castle.)  

Here are some shots we took there.

Windblown atop the castle.

There was the tiniest church with the prettiest little interior. The only tipoff that it was a church was the cross on the top of the building and the two open doors giving passersby a peek inside. It was basically just another rowhouse.

Back in the car, we turned on the iPad GPS and made our way to the outskirts of town where the festa was being held. Parking was in a field. It was just what we had hoped for. You get in line, buy a ticket, and you’re all set for the night. We were brought to a table (one of about 40 LONG tables with paper tablecloths) on which the person who brought us there wrote our “number” and gave our receipt (with what we paid for) to someone else. In about twenty minutes, around came the waiters with our bruschetta (our first course. And our wine, of course.) Later, MORE steak on each person’s plate than we’d ever seen. Tons of people. Tons of wine. Watermelon for dessert. It was a hoot. The music was a bit underwhelming—accordion players performing the Sounds of Silence. If I hear one more accordion player performing Simon and Garfunkel……

The view from the parking lot.

ONE serving.

Great look!

Sweet Sixteen

Every year, my poor son has a birthday in Italy. (So sad…… ) But seriously, the sad thing is that very often if falls on the day before we leave, so his special day is spent cleaning the apartment, returning the car and bringing boxes to the school for storage till next year. Not all that fun for anyone on any day, never mind a birthday for a kid. 

This year, we squeezed time in to have a nice lunch of pasta with pesto on our little landing. Fred’s legs had to go off to the side, and I had to climb onto my chair from behind it, but it worked out well.

Dinner, later, was at Il Monastero, the home of the two-plate pizza, Owen’s favorite. Everyone’s favorite, for that matter. The pizzas are so big they literally need to be delivered on two plates. And the crust is so thin, and the toppings so fresh, nobody ever has any trouble finishing it. 

TA Extraordinaire Karen came, too, which always makes it a party.

Two years ago, we asked if we could buy a plate. The response from the owner: he gave us FOUR!

 

Hay!

We had a blast climbing on top of haystacks in Tuscany. Owen’s suggestion. Why had this idea never occurred to us before? So fun, and a little scary because they’re wobbly! Cars driving by seemed to get a kick out of us. Crazy Americans.