Yeah, I suppose you have every reason to dismiss me with boos and hisses for what on Earth is it in that destination in question, Cote d’Azur, or the French Riviera, as it is refered to in English (although the original name reflects the real thing so much better), right? (right???) except for some ugly beaches, lousy weather, bad food and cheap wine. But bear with me, please. It was MY holiday after all.
First things first: Cote d’Azur, probably France’s finest stretch of coast, is just as good and beautiful as I remember. Maybe even tiny weeny bit better but memory can be, oh, so deceiving. Nah, it is disgustingly fabulous. We shall be returning.
How come I never heard about it before? Slush, as bizarre as a food name can be, is my summer favourite if I ever had one. Made of freshly squeezed citrus juice, a little bit of sugar and some liquor, it has summer written all over it.
This slush is made of very staple ingredients so with a little luck you’re all set to give it a go. As a matter of fact, recently, with a leftover ½ litre of pink grapefruit juice in my fridge, I sat down in front of my computer to check David Lebovitz’s site for a recipe how to use it up, and guess what? Continue reading “Citrus and Booze Slush”
According to popular notion asparagus has some kind of cleansing effect on the human body, as is the case with many a springtime produce: dandelion, radicchio, artichokes – to name only the most obvious suspects. In terms of taste, the cultivated (garden) asparagus is not on the bitter side as opposed to wild asparagus, which is also thinner, but has a distinguished, typical flavour. And a particular smell too, which is manifested afterwards in the loo.
On everyday occasions, which family lunch or early dinner certainly are, I, not unlike many working women and men, tend to resort to staple dishes that can be whizzed through with no recipe, quickly and without an extra trip to the store. Every home cook has a selection of fail safe dishes up their sleeve that can save the day and feed the exhausted and famished loved ones.
Soon, the bricks and mortar of Florence were replaced by gentle hills of rural southern Tuscany. The weather, the food, the wine, the mood – everything mixed and moulded into perfect getaway.
People were picking olives on sunny slopes of olive groves with nets carefully laid under the trees. Every frantoio we passed was busy, the tractors parked at the entrance waiting to unload the crates of precious fruit.
The white and dense steam was winding out of the chimneys of local distilleries producing the intoxicating grappa.
It seemed that everyone was busy except for us, who loitered around the fruitful landscape, marvelling at the beauties around us. In reality though, the fact was that many other tourists anywhere we went and everywhere we turned surrounded us. The fantastic autumn days were too perfect to not be spent up and about.
We saw gorgeous persimmon trees, still leafy and dotted with golden fruit, and many pomegranate trees and bushes laden with fruit – how the slender and thin branches of that length can carry that heavy fruit is beyond me.
The vineyards were turning from green to yellow to deep red. The work there ceased after the harvest but it’s far from done. The rose bushes in the pole position of the rows were still in bloom although already showing the lines of exhaustion after a long season.
Oh, the late afternoon sunlight of Val d’Orcia! It painted the deepest rose-gold nuances ever and cast the longest shadows. The line for roasted marroni in the main piazza of Pienza was too long but my man was anyway on a quest to get equipped with all necessary utensils for home roasting. Call him crazy but our home kitchen is now proudly enriched with a proper chestnut roasting pan and even a pair of scissor-like taglia castagne (blimey, I didn’t even know such a thing existed). Plus, there are still about two kilos of Tuscan marroni sitting on the cool windowsill.
Thanks to our delighful host at Il Sassone I got to cut her pomegranates to take home. There’s a special treatment for you. Thank you again, Simona. Back home, their olive oil almost freaked me out for its crazy colour, it’s the spookiest shade of green I’ve seen so far. The freshest too. Tastes like heaven. Their wine is a staple in our household anyhow. Their jams are kept hidden behind the tins of fagioli and pickles in our pantry just to secure they last longer.
Since it’s autumn, the season of harvest and abundance, I’ll brag about my own little harvest: our own home grown lemon tree bore its first fruit! Ladies and gentlemen, here’s Ms Peachy.
Last but not least, I was really upset to have missed the exceptional exhibition on arte della natura morta in Villa Medicea in unprepossessing Poggio a Caiano. It’s the only museum of its kind in Italy and it houses the Medici collection of still life paintings that was never exhibited because it was for many years buried in Uffizi’s and Palazzo Pitti’s depots. Unfortunately, we missed the appointed hour and couldn’t wait for the next one but did take a walk around the immense renaissance villa and its gorgeous (citrus) garden. There’s a perfectly legitimate reason for a return visit if I needed one!
Sagre Toscane a good site for gathering the info on gastronomic events (and applying them to your itinerary accordingly)
Roughly the itinerary for this trip: after a weekend in Florence, an early evening stop in Siena for a coffee break, then via Roccastrada to peaceful Maremma where we unpacked (Massa Marittima for instance is spectacular), the next day Montalcino, Pienza and festa della castagne in Sassofortino. Finally, upon returning home via coastal raccordo, passing the beautiful Bolgheri along the way, we stopped in Poggio a Caiano before getting our teeth into packed autostrada Firenze-Bologna again.