Nancy, Author at Itch.world - Page 20 of 20
A three-minute escape to Italy.
Tuscany, travel, medieval village, Italy, festivals, celebrations, customs, cooking, recipes, living in Italy, moving to Italy, visiting, visit, restaurants, language
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Love Italy?

“Italy,” she said in italics, every syllable elongated.

I’ve never been the person who said that. Despite earnest vacation attempts, I’d never fallen in love with Italy as an aspiration, or a lifestyle. I’ve always had more of a crush on France “France” or rural England. But having moved here six years ago Italy has deeply seduced me into being a quivering pile of, well, that may be revealed in a future issue.

Here, every day is unexpected in a way that feels like driving off-road from my old life, whether I’m  buying a live “replacement” chicken for a neighboring grandmother after our dog killed one of hers, accidentally calling the carpenters working on our house “witches” instead of by their last name, or being the only woman in a meeting of all men when they all simultaneously grab their balls for good luck when an inauspicious comment is made.

I want to share what I am responding to, every day, living here. Why life feels different, and a bit more technicolor.

 

My goal is to surprise and delight you every week, whether you’re looking for a three-minute Italian escape while at work, or are an Italophile planning your next vacation. Or even, maybe, wondering “if this is it” and are curious about what it’s like to dive head-first into a new life.

In the weekly newsletter, and on the site, you’ll find articles broken down by topic:

Live: Here I’ll share what it’s like to live here. The moments that appeal, challenge, amaze, and puzzle me every day, and those amazing words and phrases in Italian that you need to know because they are so damn wonderful.

Chow: If you’re drawn to Italy for the food, you’re not alone. I’ll be sharing my favorite local foods and ingredients, plus exceptional restaurants and farms. There will also be recipes and even a few videos of grandmothers cooking their favorites.

Roam: Ideas for day trips to little-known villages, spas, adventures, beaches, hikes, hidden corners of cities, and more.

There’s more to come…

Not every inspiring moment fits into a category, especially here. I’ll share other bits and pieces that I think you might like as we live them.

Glad you are here, and I’d would love to hear what you think. If you have friends who would enjoy Itch, please invite them to share the adventure.

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Deep-fried acacia blossoms

In mid-August, I start to long for winter in Tuscany. Those months can be surprisingly cold, grey, and wet—but still gorgeous—and are slower, with only the locals out and about. Despite my love of winter it’s always exciting when the acacia trees start flowering—a sign of the landscape waking up. In early summer these delicate white cascades adorn acacias big and small, from the tallest trees to unassuming roadside bushes.

Best of all, you can taste this bit of summer. I’ve never seen it served at a restaurant, but the tradition of battering and frying these acacia blossoms is alive and well, passed among kitchens and between generations. It requires some foraging, since you won’t find acacia blossoms at a supermarket, but it’s an adventure that marks the season.

This old Tuscan recipe was told to a friend of mine by a 90-year old neighbor who is an avid forager. It’s simple, yet sophisticated, and adds drama whenever it’s served. There’s a slight floral flavor that’s unexpected in something fried. When we served it recently a friend called it “adult popcorn.”

I have heard that elderflowers and spring garlic are also delicious done this way.

To make deep-fried acacia flowers:
Gather bunches of acacia flowers when they are in early to full bloom. We don’t wash them (way too fragile), but you should look closely for any bugs. For the batter take about 1 cup of 00 flour (all-purpose also works) and mix with 1.5 cups of COLD sparkling water and a little salt. Mix it all together until you have a batter that’s the consistency of pancake batter. Pour about 4 inches of sunflower (or peanut) oil in a pan and heat until around 350 F (175 C). Hold the acacia blossoms by the stem and dip them in the batter, coating each well, then drop them in the oil, a few at a time, until they are a nice golden color. (Don’t let them drip too long before putting in the oil as you want them well-coated.) Remove and drain on paper towers, then serve as soon as you can. We’ve always sprinkled sea salt on top, but I’ve heard that a little acacia honey is also magic, and is rather poetic to boot.

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The Madonna del Parto

Another restaurant I love in Monterchi is Una Terrazza in Toscana, run by three sisters from Rome. They make the best Carbonara I’ve ever had. One cooks, one works the front, and one splits her time. It’s tiny inside and in the winter I am usually the only woman eating there as most are work men in some type of uniform, often head to toe safety orange. Because it’s also a worker’s restaurant they offer a fixed lunch of pasta, main course, wine, and water for €12. (I adore worker’s restaurants, more about the genre later, with many more addresses to come.)

Oh, this place also happens to be next door to a museum that houses one, and only one, painting. It’s Piero della Francesca’s Madonna del Parto, one of the greatest masterpieces of the Renaissance, and the first time in art history that the Madonna was ever shown pregnant. Piero painted it for his mother who lived in Monterchi and it was in the cemetery until it was recently moved to the museum. No one is sure exactly who owns it: Italy, the Vatican, or the local village. Because of this Monterchi will never let it go on loan to major museums worldwide because it might never return back to the village. The New York Times has a fascinating article about it.

There is something about her expression, and the angels’ red and green feet contrasting with their red and green robes that gets me every time.

I guess it gets other people too. One time at lunch early on in our time in Italy (really saying that I was still pretty contaminated by California thinking) a Brit at the next table was holding forth on how he was “on the trail of the PDFs.” My mind was racing—had his computer crashed and he had lost valuable documents? Was he tracing a digital trail for some fantastic white-collar crime? Nope. He was on the trail to see all of the local Piero Della Francesca’s.

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