Blogissimo!: Early Figs

Blogissimo!: Early Figs

Early Figs

     Yesterday morning we went on an herb walk with some of our painters interested in the "wild" side of Chianti. We started our exploration at 8 am as the sun was just beginning to gently wipe the dew from the landscape. We hiked from San Fedele up and around an ancient Celtic Circle through vineyards, eyes wide searching for nature's hidden treasures. Along the way we discovered a variety of different mint, wild fennel, wild thyme and spittlebugs.

Wild Thyme

As we came upon a fig tree I remem- bered one day a few years ago in Morolo, just outside of my parents house, my father went up to the fig tree and snapped a green, less than half ripe, fig from the tree. I was shocked as he took a bite from it, as if it were an apple. My lips puckered as he finished it off and I asked him how he could eat a crunchy fig that must have made his teeth feel fuzzy.  He said "when you're hungry it's amazing what you will eat".  He went on to reminisce about growing up during the war and the things they would forage for to keep their, ever present, hunger pangs at bay. He said his mother would cook young green figs with a little olive oil and garlic. He would be so hungry he couldn’t wait until they were ready so he would snatch one from the tree and eat it in anticipation. 

Green Young Figs

I was very curious about what fried green figs would taste like so I asked my mother to cook a few that evening. I was so surprised at how savory they were, more like a vegetable than a fruit. I would never have guessed these were the same figs that in a few weeks would be plump, sweet, juicy and luscious bundles, weighing heavy on the tree.

Ripe Figs

So,  I asked our herb walkers to help me pick the young green figs and promised to serve them a special, old family recipe at dinner.

This evening, alongside the vegetable frittata, I gave everyone a taste of my fathers favorite childhood delicacy, sautéed figs…..I think my grandmother would be very proud.

Vegetable Frittata with a side of Fried Green Figs

Arrival at San Fedele

  Saturday we arrived at San Fedele in Tuscany for the start of our season.  After the kamikaze highway from Rome to Florence it was blissfully peaceful cruising up the cypress-lined driveway to this 12^th century monastery.  The iron gates swept open to us.  The caretakers, Cesare and Enza, were there to greet us as Nicolo, the proprietor, ambled out of his door to give us a big hug.  The greetings were reverent, but stunted because there was a big bus packed with 25 watercolorists kicking up dust on the road right behind us.

It’s like the first day of camp, getting everyone off the bus, sorting luggage, assigning rooms, giving a tour of the facility.  On the terrace overlooking the olive groves we served cold water laced with the acacia essence Linda had steeped back in Morolo.

Sunday – a beautiful sunny day – started with a painting lesson on the terrace and ended with a birthday dinner for our program manager, Michelino.  The whole group arrived at the Corsignano winery nearby just in time for a spectacular sunset view of Siena.  Mario, the proprietor/winemaker, took us on a tour of the vineyard and cellar, then settled us at a long table, under the wisteria, for dinner.  

The Chianti flowed while his wife Elena, delivered courses of panzanella (a Tuscan bread salad w/ tomato, cucumber and red onion), batter dipped vegetables, white bean and rosemary bruschetta (pronounced with a hard “c”, not a shhhh…) and pappardelle with lamb sauce.

When the lights dimmed the molten chocolate cake arrived with candles, followed by & Italian versions of “Happy Birthday” (“Tanti Auguri”).  Michelino, ever the gentleman, turned it around to wish all the mothers a happy Mothers’ Day.

Tanti Auguri!

So early in the week, no one really knew the Il Chiostro staff or their talents, so it was quite a surprise when Michelino got up to sing.  With chocolate still coating his throat he managed a charming rendition of Cole Porter’s “I Get a Kick Out of You” followed by Kern’s romantic ballad “My Ship”.  Everyone was astounded to think that their van driver was also a terrific tenor.

Birthday hats made from paper bags our fried vegetables were served in...artists are so creative!

Then Linda stepped onto the “stage” where she delivered an endearing, a cappella “Mama”, in honor of Mothers day and then Michelino’s favorite “Anima e Coure”.  There is something about songs in Italian – you don’t need to understand the words to feel the heart rending sentiment.  It’s their poetry, the way they sing and the way they live life – full throttle.

As we were leaving I overheard someone say “And I thought we were just coming to take a painting workshop!”

Photos for Day 4 entry...

A picture is worth a thousand words.

Dad and his garden hat

More wine & cookies!

An explanation of the past

A correction of the explanation

A joke

I think this is a swear word!

In one of the photos my Dad is wearing a hat made of newspaper they use to shade their shiny heads from the sun while working in the garden. More domani...

Day 4 - Drop Ins

    Last night in Morolo as we were about to set the table for dinner a car pulled up to the gate and buzzed.  It was Linda’s cousin and their baby paying a visit.  They just dropped in, unannounced.  This is rural Italy.  People just visit one another whenever they please - unannounced.  Michael thought this was completely rude and inconsiderate.  “What if we were in the middle of eating?”  They wouldn’t mind, came the answer.  They would have just sat right down with us! 

Well all this was unacceptable – Inconceivable!  Such bad manners! – until after dinner we decided to go visit Mario, another cousin.  On the way, though, we thought we’d stop and say hello to the neighbors Giuliana and Berto who live 2 doors down.  (Giuliana had given us the chicken from her coop that we ate for dinner so we had to thank her.)  We walked up to the door, Jo cried “Yoo-hoo” and Linda knocked.  They were eating supper.  But the door opened, we were ushered in, and within one minute the plates were cleared and we were sitting at the kitchen table with a basket of homemade wine cookies and a ciombellone under our noses.  Berto popped out the door and came back wagging a green, unlabeled bottle of wine that he poured into a tray of blue water glasses.  And then – another knock at the door and 2 more people dropped in.  More glasses, more wine, conversation, hands flailing, laughter.  Nothing fancy, it all happened around the kitchen table.  We stayed 20 minutes and were off in a flurry.

Next stop Mario’s.  We buzzed at the gate, it opened, we marched into their living room and immediately had gelato, chocolate bars and whiskey to float the ice cream in.  More conversation, laughter, hands flailing.  News, politics, family gossip.  Before we left his wife Paola handed Jo a shopping bag with a load of prepared artichokes and half a rabbit.  Out the door we went with kisses, best wishes and good cheer.

Very merrily we headed home only to find a car in front of our gate.  Graziano, a friend from the next town had dropped in.  He was just leaving a bottle of wine when we pulled up.  Kisses, hugs, come on in for a minute!  So back in the house we visited with Graziano until 11:30 – conversation, laughter, hands, cookies.  And then he left after 15 minutes.  It seems that people in this area drop in for a visit the way we say hello to each other on Facebook.  It’s just a short visit, but in person, with food, wine and always the kiss hello and good-bye.  We’re wondering if we should try to do this back home in New York?  

Day 2

The lag has caught up to us! I did have a chance to make Acacia flowers tisana that I will chill and have ready for our guests when they arrive tomorrow. After traveling for hours the Acacia flower chilled water is a lovely refreshing and healthy drink to wake and sooth the senses.
Speaking of which our senses are weary and ready for sleep.
Ci vediamo domani we will be in Chianti and will have barrels of things to report.
Buona notte,
Linda e Michael

Our 17th Spring Season in Italy - May 5, 2011

Day ½

We arrived in Italy this morning and were whisked in a jet-lagged fog to Linda’s parents’ home in Morolo, in the hills about an hour south of Rome. As soon as we closed the taxi door her mother Josephine served us a plate of pasta with tiny, skinny wild asparagus and pancetta. Simple, bursting with flavor and just what we needed after 8 hours of plane food. A little red wine from her father Gene’s personal cellar relaxed us – or

more accurately turned us to jelly.

Jo then brought to the table a bright green frittata made with shoots of a spring vine the locals call tabbii. It is just the tendrils of an otherwise innocuous vine that is starting to tangle itself around all the shrubs. They are only tender enough to eat during these 10 days so if you miss them, that’s it.

Competition is fierce to claim your territory. “My cousin Marisa beat me to all the ones out here by the road,” said Jo, “but I have another spot I go to that no one knows about.” No one packages them to sell in a grocery store, you have to pick your own.

Jo harvested a pile of them this morning before we got there. Her right thumb and thumbnail turned black from pinching and twisting the vine tips. She sautéed them in garlic and olive oil and tossed them into an egg mixture for lunch. Tonight we’ll have them as a contorno (side dish) with rabbit simmered with white wine, rosemary and a smidgen of anchovy.

Today we landed here in full-blown spring. The fields are plentiful with delicacies popping up everywhere. Neighbors stopped by to drop off a newspaper full of pignoli mushrooms they picked from the forest and another bundle of reed-thin wild asparagus stalks. After a nap we are going out to see what else we might harvest. The acacia trees are just bursting with silky white blossoms, their heady perfume hangs in the air. Sambuco blooms trumpet towards the sky. Wild mint is like clover in the lawn. Tune in tomorrow to find out what Linda did with the harvest of local delicacies we discover right outside our door.

For now, buona notte!

Michael and Linda