OK, I've had enough of this freezing weather. There's no point in trying to enjoy a bucolic life in a winter that's as surprisingly evil as this one. It's too cold outside to do any pruning or cutting back, much less think about cleaning out the cantina. The wood's all chopped and ready for use and other than that, who cares? Although many of my friends and neighbors are heading even further north to happily stagger through drifts of snow and develop bright red cheeks and noses, I just want to hug the fireplace. I don't ski, skate or find any thrill in careening around corners in a flat-bottomed boat. I don't even like hiking around on hills covered with slippery leaves that hide the loose rocks and wild boar holes so easily avoided in good weather.
We had some 24-hour snow in Todi last month and I took the same series of photos I take every time it turns white outside. There's the one of the garage, the panorama of the Umbrian hills, the tall cypress in the driveway and the close-by firewood hutch. The pictures are the same year after year because I refuse to put on yet more layers of outerwear plus lace-up boots and crunch around the property in search of the perfect snow-laden tree. No, these four shots are available from various windows and I have plenty to send out whether a massive five inches fall or there's merely an early-morning dusting. Nobody looks at them anyway, so why bother taking more? I'll just label them by depth and email them according to the latest precipitation.
My streaming choice is Classical Minnesota Public Radio because their weather is always worse than ours. The frequent temperature updates help me to put our latitude into perspective and remember how really awful it is in the Midwest and Northeast at this time of year. At least the small amount of snow we receive generally melts in a couple of days and doesn't hang around like black lava until the middle of March. We left our snow shovel in New York 22 years ago and now my only step-cleaning measure is to toss handsful of granular fertilizer out the front door. Works just as fast as salt and doesn't kill the grass or leave any marks behind. Try it.
Showing posts with label affordable countryside Todi rental apartment. Show all posts
Showing posts with label affordable countryside Todi rental apartment. Show all posts
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
Saturday, November 29, 2008
2008 Olive Harvest - The End
The unreliable neighbor in our mini-cooperative still has not returned to Izzalini to pick his olives. The rest of us have decided to quietly eliminate him from our group effort. Next year we'll look for another partner. Or maybe our own trees will have such an abundance of fruit we won't need one. Time will tell.
In the meantime, we're looking forward to transferring our oil to one-liter bottles and celebrating the harvest with bruschetta. There's nothing quite as satisfactory as slicing up a loaf of day-old country-style bread, toasting it over wood coals and then annointing it with fresh, home-grown oil. Our local bread, called pane comune, is made without salt and is a perfect foil for the tasting. Thereafter, I do sprinkle a bit of salt on the bread but I don't tell anybody.
If you'd like to see bruschetta-making, click on today's title.
Tuesday, November 25, 2008
We have the oil!
Murphy's Law has no exceptions. At 07.30 on Friday morning Amedeo, Tibero and I formed a caravan of olive-laden vehicles and raced off to our frantoio on the outskirts of Todi. There were about six olive-growers in line ahead of us, so we alternately kept an eye on our crates and wandered around chatting with folks we knew. We passed the entire morning in this way and it was a long, chilly wait.
About 13.00, we weighed in, registered and returned home; the mill owner would phone us when our turn to press came up. Instead, he called late in the afternoon with the news that various parts of the machinery had broken down. All bets were off for Friday.
The following morning dawned brightly and at high noon we were summoned. Yippee! We helped pour the lovely olives into the collection chute, watched them pass through the leaf-blower and laundry and then sighed as they disappeared into one of five individual mills.
It takes about two hours for the olives to be processed and there's nothing to see except a hazy glimpse of a small vertical mill going around and around with bits of olive clinging to it. When the mechanism decides there's no more fruit to be had, the whole mess is automatically separated into oil, water, pulp and pits.
The precious, cold-pressed oil goes one way and the other elements are carried off to recycle-land. Pulp is excellent fertilizer and the pits are ground up and used to form artificial fireplace logs -- the kind you buy in city supermarkets.
Our yield was pretty puny, but after last year's crop failure we were delighted to take home any oil at all. Now we wait for at least another week until the sediment has settled to the bottom of our 50-liter stainless container. The sediment is bitter and you don't want it on your salad.
I did taste our oil at the mill and wow! It's going to be great.
About 13.00, we weighed in, registered and returned home; the mill owner would phone us when our turn to press came up. Instead, he called late in the afternoon with the news that various parts of the machinery had broken down. All bets were off for Friday.
The following morning dawned brightly and at high noon we were summoned. Yippee! We helped pour the lovely olives into the collection chute, watched them pass through the leaf-blower and laundry and then sighed as they disappeared into one of five individual mills.
It takes about two hours for the olives to be processed and there's nothing to see except a hazy glimpse of a small vertical mill going around and around with bits of olive clinging to it. When the mechanism decides there's no more fruit to be had, the whole mess is automatically separated into oil, water, pulp and pits.
The precious, cold-pressed oil goes one way and the other elements are carried off to recycle-land. Pulp is excellent fertilizer and the pits are ground up and used to form artificial fireplace logs -- the kind you buy in city supermarkets.
Our yield was pretty puny, but after last year's crop failure we were delighted to take home any oil at all. Now we wait for at least another week until the sediment has settled to the bottom of our 50-liter stainless container. The sediment is bitter and you don't want it on your salad.
I did taste our oil at the mill and wow! It's going to be great.
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
Olive Oil Crisis in Izzalini: a neighbor lets us down
Of all the harvests that take place during the year, there are two which require careful timing and the full cooperation of everyone involved: (1) the picking and fast processing of wine grapes before the whole crop is spoiled and (2) the olive harvest, for exactly the same reason.
Well, our 2008 olive raccolta became complicated at the end of last week because the third member of our informal neighborhood cooperative became uncooperative. This guy rang us from his apartment in Rome to say he'd decided not to come up over the weekend, the time slot scheduled for the harvest of his grove in Izzalini. His excuse was that it was raining in Rome so maybe it would also rain in Todi and he'd prefer to pick the olives on November 29 and 30. Uh-huh.
This carpetbagger -- I'll call him Buffone -- knew full well that Amedeo and I had already picked our olives and were waiting for his to meet the required minimum weight for a private pressing -- about 250 kg. We had carefully placed the olives in special containers and stored them in cool semi-darkness, but there is a limit to how long you can leave them before they mold or rot. By postponing our harvest of his grove, Buffone was exceeding that limit by a full week. You bet we were mad.
Amedeo, Antonietta and I had an emergency meeting to consider our options. The first would be to take our crates of olives to the mill and leave them to be mixed with small quantities brought in by others. This horrified my friends, who are definitely purists when it comes to the quality of olive oil. They're convinced that our lovingly-sorted fruit would be tossed into the mill with wormy, moldy, dried up and rotting olives from careless or evil-doing homeowners. No way would they accept just any old oil in return for the weight we delivered. It was essential to have a private pressing.
The second option would be to purchase raw olives from another source. This plan was adopted and Amedeo spent the entire weekend searching for healthy olives. On Sunday afternoon he located an acceptable grove in the next province over and made a deal to buy the extra kilograms we needed.
However, there wasn't enough time to keep our first appointment at the mill yesterday morning. We rescheduled and will now press on Friday. Fortunately the weather is cool and we're hoping the four days we've lost won't affect our stored harvest. We're thinking good thoughts and not even turning on a light to peek at the crates, let alone touch the precious olives.
Well, our 2008 olive raccolta became complicated at the end of last week because the third member of our informal neighborhood cooperative became uncooperative. This guy rang us from his apartment in Rome to say he'd decided not to come up over the weekend, the time slot scheduled for the harvest of his grove in Izzalini. His excuse was that it was raining in Rome so maybe it would also rain in Todi and he'd prefer to pick the olives on November 29 and 30. Uh-huh.
This carpetbagger -- I'll call him Buffone -- knew full well that Amedeo and I had already picked our olives and were waiting for his to meet the required minimum weight for a private pressing -- about 250 kg. We had carefully placed the olives in special containers and stored them in cool semi-darkness, but there is a limit to how long you can leave them before they mold or rot. By postponing our harvest of his grove, Buffone was exceeding that limit by a full week. You bet we were mad.
Amedeo, Antonietta and I had an emergency meeting to consider our options. The first would be to take our crates of olives to the mill and leave them to be mixed with small quantities brought in by others. This horrified my friends, who are definitely purists when it comes to the quality of olive oil. They're convinced that our lovingly-sorted fruit would be tossed into the mill with wormy, moldy, dried up and rotting olives from careless or evil-doing homeowners. No way would they accept just any old oil in return for the weight we delivered. It was essential to have a private pressing.
The second option would be to purchase raw olives from another source. This plan was adopted and Amedeo spent the entire weekend searching for healthy olives. On Sunday afternoon he located an acceptable grove in the next province over and made a deal to buy the extra kilograms we needed.
However, there wasn't enough time to keep our first appointment at the mill yesterday morning. We rescheduled and will now press on Friday. Fortunately the weather is cool and we're hoping the four days we've lost won't affect our stored harvest. We're thinking good thoughts and not even turning on a light to peek at the crates, let alone touch the precious olives.
Sunday, October 12, 2008
I never knew that Italian cleaning products are seasonal
My friend and indispensable extra right hand, Rita, went to Avigliano Umbro yesterday on a mission. She was searching for a special product to clean the decorative brick arch in my soggiorno (living room) fireplace. There's a hardware-cum-general store in Avigliano that has all the stuff you can't find anywhere else.
Rita called me this morning to report that yes, the store carries the product -- but only from May through August. That's because you're supposed to clean the fireplace in the summer when it's not needed for heat.
Right now we're in the middle of what Americans call "Indian Summer", a deliciously warm and sunny period that precedes the chill of late fall. I'm still not using the fireplace for heat, although I love to light it up in the evening. The days are getting shorter and shorter and it's a boon companion as well as a homey touch when guests drop by.
The bricks will have to stay sooty until next spring, at which time I will lose all interest in the living room and run outside to play in the dirt.
Rita called me this morning to report that yes, the store carries the product -- but only from May through August. That's because you're supposed to clean the fireplace in the summer when it's not needed for heat.
Right now we're in the middle of what Americans call "Indian Summer", a deliciously warm and sunny period that precedes the chill of late fall. I'm still not using the fireplace for heat, although I love to light it up in the evening. The days are getting shorter and shorter and it's a boon companion as well as a homey touch when guests drop by.
The bricks will have to stay sooty until next spring, at which time I will lose all interest in the living room and run outside to play in the dirt.
Friday, October 10, 2008
On the Wing
Antonietta dropped by this afternoon for a brief chat. Obeying the courtesy demanded by our elders, "Never return an empty dish" (or "Never return a dish empty"), she brought back a little bowl of mine with three fresh eggs inside. I'd given her some pesto I'd made (with walnuts, not pine nuts) and more than three eggs would not have fit. When "Bird Flu" threatened to spread through Western Europe a couple of years ago, she and her husband, Amedeo, slaughtered (and ate) their roosters and retained only the laying hens. Bless their hearts, the hens don't seem to miss the lack of stimulation and keep right on producing, although less frequently.
One fact I learned when the disease was rampant in Asia and showed up briefly in Eastern Europe was that only male chickens are raised for sale in supermarkets and individual meat markets. Apparently the sex of a baby chick can be determined in fewer than five days after hatching and poultry farms sell off most the females as fast as they can. Once in a while we all buy a full-grown female, called a gallina, to make a broth or soup, but the meat is pretty stringy by itself. Boiling the bird for a number of hours is the only way to render it useful.
Italians prize roosters for Sunday dinner and if they don't have access to the free-range variety they ask the butcher for a giant male chicken with a lot of bruises. Males fight each other like mad (guess why) and the theory is that bruises tenderize the meat.
I have never cooked a rooster, but I sure like baked chicken prepared with shoots of fresh rosemary, a couple slivers of garlic and kosher salt stuffed between the skin and the meat. Naturally, we baste the bird with olive oil to make it nice and crispy. What a feast.
One fact I learned when the disease was rampant in Asia and showed up briefly in Eastern Europe was that only male chickens are raised for sale in supermarkets and individual meat markets. Apparently the sex of a baby chick can be determined in fewer than five days after hatching and poultry farms sell off most the females as fast as they can. Once in a while we all buy a full-grown female, called a gallina, to make a broth or soup, but the meat is pretty stringy by itself. Boiling the bird for a number of hours is the only way to render it useful.
Italians prize roosters for Sunday dinner and if they don't have access to the free-range variety they ask the butcher for a giant male chicken with a lot of bruises. Males fight each other like mad (guess why) and the theory is that bruises tenderize the meat.
I have never cooked a rooster, but I sure like baked chicken prepared with shoots of fresh rosemary, a couple slivers of garlic and kosher salt stuffed between the skin and the meat. Naturally, we baste the bird with olive oil to make it nice and crispy. What a feast.
Wednesday, October 8, 2008
Good Old Bruschetta
After yesterday's adventure, I bought 1/2 kilo of tummy-soothing pane comune today. That's our Umbrian bread, made in a round or oblong shape and devoid of salt or taste but a perfect foil for salami and raw ham (prosciutto crudo) and the only bread that works for bruschetta.
When I arrived at our panetteria at 12:50, the only bread left was one oblong loaf that I grabbed for $.65. When I got it home, I realized the crust was too hard for me to saw into freezing-size slices, so I thought back to what Mom said: "To soften baked goods, put them in a plastic bag with a few slices of apple".
Unfortunately, I had no apples or any other kind of fruit in the house, but I put the loaf in a bag and threw in three zucchini. Allora! It worked! I guess that any fresh, soft kind of fruit or vegetable will give off the kind of gaseous moisture that helps cookies and bread to soften up. I wonder if we can develop that gas for use in our cars.
When I arrived at our panetteria at 12:50, the only bread left was one oblong loaf that I grabbed for $.65. When I got it home, I realized the crust was too hard for me to saw into freezing-size slices, so I thought back to what Mom said: "To soften baked goods, put them in a plastic bag with a few slices of apple".
Unfortunately, I had no apples or any other kind of fruit in the house, but I put the loaf in a bag and threw in three zucchini. Allora! It worked! I guess that any fresh, soft kind of fruit or vegetable will give off the kind of gaseous moisture that helps cookies and bread to soften up. I wonder if we can develop that gas for use in our cars.
Tuesday, October 7, 2008
Maybe I'll stick to bread for a week
Yesterday I pulled out a lovely supper from the deep freezer -- salmon en croute. No, I didn't make it myself; I bought it ready-to-bake. It tasted great, although not as flavorsome as I remembered from last year. In January of 2007 I purchased two cartons of this fancy fish dish, ate one and stashed the other at some extremely low temperature, perhaps -435 F.
Today I woke up feeling OK, but by 10:30 I was one sick puppy. After the first hurl I checked the frozen food box and, sure enough, the expiration date was November 2007, NOT November 2008.
The EU is serious about not allowing food producers to load their products with preservatives and, believe me, the expiration date printed on a container is a command, not a suggestion. I just wish they'd print the information in very large, bold-face type.
I feel fine now, thanks.
Today I woke up feeling OK, but by 10:30 I was one sick puppy. After the first hurl I checked the frozen food box and, sure enough, the expiration date was November 2007, NOT November 2008.
The EU is serious about not allowing food producers to load their products with preservatives and, believe me, the expiration date printed on a container is a command, not a suggestion. I just wish they'd print the information in very large, bold-face type.
I feel fine now, thanks.
Monday, October 6, 2008
Keeping it Together
Linda Richardson's Blog from Todi
OK, we already know as much as we can absorb about the economic situation around the world. There's nothing to do but wait and see, so here are some suggestions to pass the time. Maybe they won't work for you, but in Umbria we find them helpful.
1. Don't watch the TV news. If you pick up a newspaper or click on a news web site, go immediately to "Science: Baby Animals Saved from Getting Lost in the Wild."
2. Call up the (formerly) richest, most snobbish person you know and ask her/him to carpool to the supermarket. You'll be surprised.
3. Base one meal a day on popcorn. Sprinkle it with chili pepper and then you'll drink more water which will also fill you up.
4. Take a good look at your outdoor work clothes and see if they can be ironed and worn to church, temple or the supermarket.
5. During the day, do not raise the thermostat above 55 degrees F. Instead, dress in 6, 7 or as many layers as you can squeeze into and dance around the house singing "Saint Louis in the Summertime is Too Damn Hot".
6. Move all your beds into one room and turn up the heat for 30 minutes before you go to bed. Then turn it down again. Do not tell ghost stories.
7. Your warm, furry family pets should sleep with you, including the six new kittens and both their parents (if known).
8. In the office, recycle all documents instead of shredding them. If you change the color of the printing ink you can save bunches of money by using the same paper four times.
9. Join your children in jogging to school. Six miles, one way, is about right for you and your nine-year-old.
10. Consider buying a goat to cut your grass and prune your bushes. Goats eat anything. And you can eat them.
OK, we already know as much as we can absorb about the economic situation around the world. There's nothing to do but wait and see, so here are some suggestions to pass the time. Maybe they won't work for you, but in Umbria we find them helpful.
1. Don't watch the TV news. If you pick up a newspaper or click on a news web site, go immediately to "Science: Baby Animals Saved from Getting Lost in the Wild."
2. Call up the (formerly) richest, most snobbish person you know and ask her/him to carpool to the supermarket. You'll be surprised.
3. Base one meal a day on popcorn. Sprinkle it with chili pepper and then you'll drink more water which will also fill you up.
4. Take a good look at your outdoor work clothes and see if they can be ironed and worn to church, temple or the supermarket.
5. During the day, do not raise the thermostat above 55 degrees F. Instead, dress in 6, 7 or as many layers as you can squeeze into and dance around the house singing "Saint Louis in the Summertime is Too Damn Hot".
6. Move all your beds into one room and turn up the heat for 30 minutes before you go to bed. Then turn it down again. Do not tell ghost stories.
7. Your warm, furry family pets should sleep with you, including the six new kittens and both their parents (if known).
8. In the office, recycle all documents instead of shredding them. If you change the color of the printing ink you can save bunches of money by using the same paper four times.
9. Join your children in jogging to school. Six miles, one way, is about right for you and your nine-year-old.
10. Consider buying a goat to cut your grass and prune your bushes. Goats eat anything. And you can eat them.
Sunday, October 5, 2008
Make Mine Napolitano -- and my kids will have the same
Linda Richardson's Blog from Todi
Last night I met up with my American friend and neighbor, Ruth, and we decided to head for a local trattoria. We both ordered pizza Napolitano, a simple dish that doesn't interfere much with conversation. The thin, crispy crust is topped with tomato, cheese and a sprinkling of garlic and anchovies -- no knife or fork needed.
About halfway through the meal a family of five Italians arrived and landed at the table next to ours. In addition to Mom and Dad there were three adorable tow-headed boys aged about 5, 8 and 9. While mamma conversed with the older two, the little one settled on papá's lap and they played together until the food arrived. We hadn't seen such exquisitely behaved kids since the last time we were in a local restaurant.
Aside from my perpetual amazement that Italian kids can stay up really late without taking uppers or falling asleep under the table, I am always impressed by their mature demeanor. It's rare to see little ones acting out anywhere here -- in a restaurant or supermarket or museum or -- believe it or not -- at home. There's a time and a place for wrestling and screaming and it's definitely not inside.
Maybe it has something to do with their early socialization. Italian children learn in infancy that all grown-ups adore them and do not burst into tears when strangers chuck them under the chin or reach out to hold them. As they continue to grow up, they are surrounded by affection from all quarters and good behavior is noted and reinforced by smiles, praise, hugs and kisses.
On the other hand, adult friends and neighbors don't hesitate to nip improper behavior in the bud with gentle reminders. Scolding by parents is almost always performed in the you-know-better-than-that mode rather than in the implied threat mode. I really don't know what the secret is, but something makes Italian kids want to mind their manners in social situations. It's a pleasure to have their company.
Last night I met up with my American friend and neighbor, Ruth, and we decided to head for a local trattoria. We both ordered pizza Napolitano, a simple dish that doesn't interfere much with conversation. The thin, crispy crust is topped with tomato, cheese and a sprinkling of garlic and anchovies -- no knife or fork needed.
About halfway through the meal a family of five Italians arrived and landed at the table next to ours. In addition to Mom and Dad there were three adorable tow-headed boys aged about 5, 8 and 9. While mamma conversed with the older two, the little one settled on papá's lap and they played together until the food arrived. We hadn't seen such exquisitely behaved kids since the last time we were in a local restaurant.
Aside from my perpetual amazement that Italian kids can stay up really late without taking uppers or falling asleep under the table, I am always impressed by their mature demeanor. It's rare to see little ones acting out anywhere here -- in a restaurant or supermarket or museum or -- believe it or not -- at home. There's a time and a place for wrestling and screaming and it's definitely not inside.
Maybe it has something to do with their early socialization. Italian children learn in infancy that all grown-ups adore them and do not burst into tears when strangers chuck them under the chin or reach out to hold them. As they continue to grow up, they are surrounded by affection from all quarters and good behavior is noted and reinforced by smiles, praise, hugs and kisses.
On the other hand, adult friends and neighbors don't hesitate to nip improper behavior in the bud with gentle reminders. Scolding by parents is almost always performed in the you-know-better-than-that mode rather than in the implied threat mode. I really don't know what the secret is, but something makes Italian kids want to mind their manners in social situations. It's a pleasure to have their company.
Saturday, October 4, 2008
ALL HAIL IS BREAKING LOOSE!
LINDA RICHARDSON'S BLOG FROM TODI
What a gorgeous day it is for us Umbrians: we're having heavy rain and a fabulous thunder-and-light show! After a long, beautiful and absolutely dry summer it's great that the ground and fields and trees and bushes are getting a big, wet kiss from the sky.
Although yesterday's forecast promised it would rain, this morning dawned without a single cloud in sight and only a breeze from the south signaled changed. One never knows and I'm happy to say I went out yesterday afternoon and covered all the firewood with thick plastic.
This year I have a lot of wood ready for the winter. We cleaned a tiny portion of the forest at La Casella in February and the resulting firewood, plus tons of nicely portioned pieces that I bought from our local lumberjack, Fabio, is stacked all over the place: in the covered stone wood-keeper next to the house, in the wire cage behind the laurel bushes and in a huge pile near the cantina.
I have a fire going right now and the coals are perfect for bruschetta. Yum.
What a gorgeous day it is for us Umbrians: we're having heavy rain and a fabulous thunder-and-light show! After a long, beautiful and absolutely dry summer it's great that the ground and fields and trees and bushes are getting a big, wet kiss from the sky.
Although yesterday's forecast promised it would rain, this morning dawned without a single cloud in sight and only a breeze from the south signaled changed. One never knows and I'm happy to say I went out yesterday afternoon and covered all the firewood with thick plastic.
This year I have a lot of wood ready for the winter. We cleaned a tiny portion of the forest at La Casella in February and the resulting firewood, plus tons of nicely portioned pieces that I bought from our local lumberjack, Fabio, is stacked all over the place: in the covered stone wood-keeper next to the house, in the wire cage behind the laurel bushes and in a huge pile near the cantina.
I have a fire going right now and the coals are perfect for bruschetta. Yum.
Tuesday, September 9, 2008
Join us at La Casella for chestnuts in the winter, wild asparagus in the spring, local tomatoes in the summer and blackberries in the fall. Every season is a delight!
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You're welcome to stay for a whole year and really get to know Umbria. La Casella is great for a sabbatical leave - just bring your laptop and log on to wireless Internet. It's also a convenient place to stay while your own Todi-area house is being restored or refurnished.
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You're welcome to stay for a whole year and really get to know Umbria. La Casella is great for a sabbatical leave - just bring your laptop and log on to wireless Internet. It's also a convenient place to stay while your own Todi-area house is being restored or refurnished.
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