Things locals want you to know about eating in Tuscany
Here’s a sneak peek of an article I am writing for SmarterTravel. The article will cover ten tips but I wanted to share an excerpt before it is published.
After living in Tuscany for eight years I still treasure eating the food every day, but the bigger discovery for me was realizing what a key part food plays in making the Italian lifestyle so special. I’ve noticed things that visitors often misunderstand when they travel to Tuscany that make eating less fun and delicious. So—here’s an insider’s list of Tuscan food tips.
Coffee rules
In all senses of that word.
First of all, what you drink is a caffè and where you do it is called a bar. Italians tend to have several cups of coffee a day and usually stand at the bar and drink them quickly. (At some bars there is a higher price if you sit at a table.) A caffè is single shot of espresso. Coffee is served a bit cooler than many people expect because the Italians believe that things that are too hot, or too cold, like iced drinks, are bad for the digestion. And locals would never drink a cappuccino after noon (because too much milk after lunch is … bad for the digestion.)
I learned early on that a way around the cappuccino rule, keeping your street credibility, but not having to go all the way to drinking an espresso after lunch is to order a caffè macchiato which is an espresso with a small dab of milk either caldo (hot and steamed) or freddo (cold).
For a more adventurous coffee experience try a caffè corretto, literally a corrected coffee, which is an espresso with a shot of alcohol, most commonly grappa, sambuca, or brandy. In our town this is a frequent early-morning treat before the wild boar hunters go out to the fields with their loaded guns.
Marie Kondo your pizza
Less is more when it comes to pizza. I asked a friend who is a waiter the biggest thing he wishes he could say to non-Italian customers. He said people miss the point when they try to pile on too many toppings on a pizza. The best pizza is the simplest and allows wonderful ingredients to shine through. A pizza margherita shows off what happens when the right flour, water, and yeast are married to a wonderful tomato sauce and mozzarella (buffalo mozzarella is great). Pizzas are ordered one per person. Oh, and the worst sin for my waiter friend is when someone orders a pizza with a cappuccino.
Take your time
In most of Tuscany, outside of tourist centers, restaurants aren’t trying to squeeze more than one seating into a lunch or dinner window. This means that meals are leisurely breaks and usually multi-course. Trying to rush through this type of meal is not only largely impossible, but also likely to earn a puzzled and concerned look from the server, and probably the chef as well.
Lunch is traditionally the biggest meal and on weekends, or in more traditional restaurants, will include an antipasti course of bruschetta or sliced meats like prosciutto, fennel salami, and local cheeses, followed by pasta (the primi course) followed by meats (the secondi). Meats usually come solo and vegetables and potatoes are ordered separately as contorni but meant to be shared by the table. Dessert, coffee, and perhaps a digestive, like a grappa, follow.
Sunday lunch is the highlight of the week for many Italians and well worth indulging in. Seeing large families gathering for a lunch that lingers far into the afternoon is a special treat to enjoy.
Meanwhile at lunch…
I’ve just returned from a week in Paris followed by two in California and while my mind has been occupied by strikes and sales in Paris and traffic and tension in the Bay Area I kept remembering a few tidbits of news I wanted to share with you from the homefront.
Expansion at the farm stand
The farm stand, which serves a 10€ mostly vegetarian worker’s lunch made from their produce, always faces a significant issue when colder weather comes. Their unenclosed front porch, which holds four tables in addition to the two that fit inside, becomes much too cold to use and significantly decreases the number of lunches they can serve. But this year Michele solved it. I arrived one day to find him beaming with a decided spark in his eye putting the finishing touches on the porch enclosure, thanks to wood provided by produce crates, a few sheets of plastic, and a nail gun. This infrastructure, boosted by two pellet heaters, has done the trick and now they can operate at the full number of “tops” year round. I assume that the removal process to return it to an open porch come summer will not be too difficult as the installation took an afternoon.
The pig is no longer with us
Colder weather brings the spezzatura or dismantling of the pig. We were lucky enough to be invited to join a family for their annual event last year which was one of the most fascinating and completely Italian things I’ve done since moving here. The respect, care, and attention given to preparing a year’s worth of meat from an animal everyone knew moved me. A couple of days before I left the farm stand had killed their pig and completed the spezzatura. To celebrate Michele said they were preparing a very special lunch later in the week — freshly-made sausages and chestnut polenta — and asked if we wanted to come. I love the local fresh chestnuts (yes frequently roasted over open fires) but have a hearty suspicion of other chestnut-based delights. For many Tuscans if you combine chestnut flour with water, olive oil, rosemary, and pine nuts and bake the whole mess it is suddenly a revered dessert, castagnaccio. Unfortunately it looks just like a brownie. Do not make this mistake as I have.
Anyway, Michele was especially excited about the chestnut polenta. Silvia, standing behind him, mouthed that she was also going to make “something good”. With great reluctance John and I showed up the day of the feast and bravely opted for one order of the sausage and chestnut polenta. (We also got one order of the “something good” to cover our bases.)
The sausage and pancetta from the pig were delicious, as were the onions. The chestnut polenta was not as bad as expected, much better than the castagnaccio dessert, even though it had a strong resemblance to Play Dough gone wrong. But I did not opt for the sweet version of the chestnut polenta, served with ricotta, for dessert. Instead I ordered the classic ramp up to carnevale and Lent Tuscan dessert, castagnole, which are bits of dough that are fried and around here often stained with runny dark red sugar (Christ’s blood?).
Royal Fascination
John and I happened to be having lunch at another local favorite while the emergency meeting was going on between the Queen, Prince Charles, and Prince William about how they were going to handle Megxit. I didn’t know this because I was following with rapt attention but because the large man with work overalls at the next table was. Propped up amidst his quarter litre of wine and pasta was his phone, loudly streaming the live coverage from the U.K. as the swarm of reporters waited on any news of the outcome of the meeting.
God save the Queen. And lunch.
Paris discoveries
I deeply love Paris and know it pretty well. On my way back to California I stopped for a few days and found a few new (to me) treasures I have to share.
Best place to have tea in a tub: Le Pavillon des Canaux
A friend insisted we go to a cafe in an old canal master’s house overlooking the canals and locks of the Bassin de la Villette.
In addition to deciding what artisanal coffee, tea, pastry or soup you want you also have to figure out whether you want to take your snack to a bathtub, bedroom, kitchen, or living room. In addition to being a cafe they also show films and host community events.
The cafe, called Le Pavillon des Canaux, is an important stop to know about when exploring the Parisian canal system and visiting the bassin, which is the largest lake in Paris. Boats are rentable in the summer, and in August the quai turns into one of the beaches for Paris plages.
But even on a cold winter day the place was charming. The only downside was the number of people working on computers but according to their website they also have times that are declared sans laptops. It’s in the 19th arrondissement.
Julia Child’s favorite Paris restaurant: Chez Georges
After my haircut (more below) I met John at Chez Georges, a classic French bistro where Julia Child had the legendary sole meunière that set her on her path. We went for lunch, which I’d highly suggest, as we were the only Americans in the restaurant (sounds like at dinner there are more tourists, although one article I read mentioned seeing Wes Anderson and Tilda Swinton dining together which wouldn’t bum me out too much even if they aren’t Parisians.) I would have given a lot to know identities of the occupants of the next table by the window. For at least 20 minutes before they arrived the waiters were busy preparing — opening a bottle of wine to breathe, setting out plates of charcuterie and radishes, and just the right bottled water. The patrons finally arrived, were seated, and were the only ones in the very busy place the maître d‘ wished a bon dejeuner tableside.
The people watching was hours of fun. Food was traditional but excellent. It’s a right near Place des Victoires.
Hero hairdresser: David Mallett
I’ve now had my haircut by David Mallet twice and I’m sooo happy. He has a salon near Palais Royale, one in the hotel George V, and one in New York. He’s Australian by birth, raised in Naples, has lived in Paris for years, is a vegan, and has a salon filled with taxidermy. What else could you wish for? Anthony, the colorist is great too.
Handmade porcelain lampshades: Alix D. Reynis
On one of my favorite streets, rue Jacob, Alix D. Reynis makes beautiful porcelain lampshades, jewelry, and white bowls and dishes. After a couple of years on the hunt we found our lights for over the dining room table. Welcome home little ones.
Genoa: from prostitutes to palaces
Genoa, or Genova to the Italians, was once a big deal city although it is a bit of an afterthought today. Italy’s sixth-largest city, and a major EU port, Genova has been all about the sea since its founding in the sixth-century B.C. by Phoenician and Etruscan sailors. It was an important Roman port, and a crucial supplier of goods and transport for the crusades during the 12th century, making it one of the wealthiest and most powerful cities in the world. The striped Cathedral of San Lorenzo is a testament to Genova’s past glory.
Always vying for dominance with Venice and Pisa, it also was under the control of the French and the Austrians at various points. It feels a bit dark, looming, and watching for danger, which is probably partially due to its geography. It’s wedged in a narrow band of flat land between the sea and the Apennine mountains 19 miles long. Even coming from San Francisco the vertical nature of the town is intimidating. It’s partially built on hills that are disorientingly steep. In some buildings you enter on street level, climb up four stories of high-ceilinged palazzo splendor, and exit the backside of the same building, again on street level.
The port is highly industrial and the part that isn’t has been refurbished by native son Renzo Piano into what, to me, is a less interesting version of Pier 39. But across the busy road paralleling the port is one of the most memorable and evocative maze of pedestrian streets I’ve seen since the back alleys of Fez and Marrakech.
Because the topography offered little land to build on it is medieval high-density living. Even with Google Maps it’s easy to get lost in the narrow alleys which are framed by six and seven story medieval buildings casting the ground level in constant nighttime. A half block away from some of the trendiest boutiques prostitutes abound—it is, and always has been, a seaport after all. Because of the narrow streets the prostitution is a bit more up close and personal than what I’m used to seeing occasionally. I literally had to squeeze past a woman leading her client by the hand into a building when I walking by in the other direction.
Slightly above the medieval warren is a grand pedestrian street, Via Garibaldi, lined by huge palaces. Created in the 16th century it is now a UNESCO World Heritage site. These palazzos are now mostly museums with a few nice pieces including Paganini’s famous “Il Cannone” violin—and surprisingly, two of his guitars.
One of the things I liked about the city is that there are a lot of 20 and 30-somethings due to the spillover of economic growth from Milan. It has a youth energy that’s often missing in Italian cities.
We found a neighborhood wine bar in the historic section notable not for its wine or food but because it’s a warm gathering place. The wine is actually all pretty fresh off the vine and not yet in a bottle but in huge vats. One local, when asked by the bartender which wine she wanted replied “The 1€ one.”
They don’t serve any food until after six when a woman arrives with freshly-baked focaccia from a local bakery. Everyone applauded when she arrived. They serve the fresh focaccia with simple salumi and cheese and it was delicious.
We sat next to a charming, nearly toothless, ancient, bedraggled guy who was clearly a regular. He couldn’t stop petting Lola and told us at length about his dog. The rest of the crowd were 20-somethings and young families (with some awesome dogs) all of whom knew each other. Best of all was the bill. Complete dinner with two glasses of wine each, 16.50€. We then splurged and bought two unmarked bottles to take home for 3€. This charmer is called Mescite and I’d run back in a heartbeat.
Nearby on the Via Garibaldi there is a designer homeware store on the second floor of one of the palaces called Via Garibaldi 12. The architecture of the store itself is stunning, but in additional they have an eclectic and very fancy mix of furniture, tableware, and home accessories. When we were in with Lola their small dog was running around playing with her, along with a young grandson, and the owners didn’t seem the least bit concerned, even when everyone was running around the large, leather, one-of-a-kind sofa designed by Zaha Hadid (price upon request…) or the wall of hand blown glass vases—you can see both below.
We stayed at a central, but tired hotel, Hotel Bristol Palace. Room was huge and the hotel has a great central staircase, but it didn’t charm me. Next time I will stay at a hotel we found on our wanderings in the medieval sector, Palazzo Grillo.
It looks wonderful and it’s next to an enchanting church, Chiesa Santa Maria delle Vigne (the monks grew grapes in the cloister during the middle ages). When we passed the cloisters had been paved over and were being used as a soccer area for kids.
The pesto we had was wonderful, but with a distinctly different flavor and texture than pesto I’ve had elsewhere. It’s so emulsified that it’s creamier and less dark. To get the right texture you will clearly need one of these: A Pestobene. You gotta see this baby in action.
There’s a nice covered market, the Mercato Orientale. I’ve never been to a farmer’s market that sells white truffles before. Not to mention the stand specializing in tripe.
One of our favorite things was a walk along the sea to the small fishing village of Boccadasse (more in an earlier Itch article).
Don’t miss Il Profumo for gelato, which is not to be confused with the new official “logo fragrance” of Genova made by Euthalia and containing a mixture of basil, marjoram, thyme, bergamot, rosemary, coriander, and lavender. It was dispensed throughout the city in diffusers from Sept. 12 through the 13th of October of last year. Back to the gelato, Profumo was named the best gelato in Italy, according to the Italian food authorities at Gambero Rosso, and the owner/maker is a delight.
Venice to Vienna on the Nightjet: what the NYTimes got wrong
I’m shockingly on trend this week having traveled from Venice to Vienna on the Nightjet, an overnight train service offered by the Austrian railway ÖBB, three days before the New York Times wrote an article about the same route and train. (ÖBB’s PR department has been working overtime — their sleeper train also popped up in a Bloomberg article.) The NYTimes article featured bright-eyed travelers arriving in Venice in the morning after their all-night journey feeling rested and refreshed. I would have liked to meet those people.
I have a bit of a thing about overnight trains which has deepened with the Greta-induced “flight shaming” trend. My journeys have ranged from the sitting upright on a night train across Spain in a compartment filled with soldiers (Eurail pass days) to a rather lovely single room with a bed and bath on a night train from Vienna to Paris years ago. I was looking forward to sharing a sleeper train experience with Donella and Sebastian.
When John was out of town — he’s less than enthusiastic about the overnight train concept — I got the idea that the kids and I, plus Lola the dog, would take a pre-holiday jaunt to Vienna to look at Christmas markets and take the Nightjet. Venice to Vienna sounded nicely alliterative so we packed up the car, drove to Venice, had dinner in one of our favorite places (a Jewish restaurant called Gam Gam), and boarded the Nightjet which leaves at 9:10. We were ready for adventure.
I’d booked a cabin for three people, but it would have been tight for one. The three of us stood in the corridor for a few minutes trying to figure out how we could physically fit in the space with our one small suitcase each and the dog. One at a time we squeezed in sideways between the sink and the ladder, passing bags over our heads, and scrambled to our bunks. The three couchette-type beds were set up one over the other. Sebastian took the top, which was really high up and needed a ladder to access. This gave him a bit of room to stash stuff over the top of the sink cabinet as well as a spot to stretch his legs. I took the middle, which also needed a ladder to get to, and Donella and Lola took the bottom. There wasn’t enough room to sit upright in the bunks so all of us assumed semi-prone positions as we negotiated over the order in which we’d get our stuff and use the sink in our cabin.
The bunks did come with sheets, a little duvet, and the thinnest and smallest pillow I’ve ever seen. And there was a breakfast menu to fill out with choices of bread, cheese, ham, yogurt, and a few other options.
We finally turned out the lights to settle in. But after five minutes they turned back on by themselves for about an hour until the staff could figure out the problem. Darkness came and we finally rolled over to go to sleep. At least some of us did. Our neighbors on both sides were very talkative and we could hear every word through the thin walls. They finally quieted down. And then around two in the morning the lights came back on by themselves.
Seemed like the higher the elevation of the bunk the sounder the sleep. Despite everything Sebastian went right to sleep and woke up the next morning rested. On the bottom Donella and Lola spent the whole night sleepless. Lola seemed to share John’s security concerns despite the fact that our door had a hotel-style key and several locks, and she was wide awake guarding the pack. Donella heroically prevented her from disturbing anyone else. I was literally, and experientially, somewhere in the middle.
They pick a slow route for night trains so that the times are more convenient, leaving at 9pm and getting in Vienna around 8am, so there was plenty of time to relax and sleep. (The Caledonian Sleeper from London, which I’ve also taken, even pulls to a side track and stops for several hours a night to avoid arriving in Edinburgh in the wee hours of the morning.)
John joined us a day later in Vienna from the States and we all returned to Venice on Christmas Eve taking ÖBB’s daytime express train which was a seven and a half hour trip.
Pros and cons? If I were to do it over again I’d book more cabins — three in one cabin was too many and it would be nice not to have the middle bunk — if they were available. I’d put essentials in an easier to get to place than my suitcase, which was almost impossible to access in such a tiny space. I’d bring my own pillow and much better ear plugs than the ones they provided. And I’d probably not bring Lola. Bottom line? Mid-range cabin sleeper trains are still a bit rough.
I enjoyed the speedy day train on the return more because the scenery in Austria was gorgeous which we missed on the sleeper train. We’d also provisioned an epic picnic in Vienna which made the middle of the trip really nurturing.
But despite all the downsides there is still something romantic and alluring about a night train. Even had a crazy idea of going from Finland to Sicily by sleeper train. But I think I’d have to get fresh traveling companions.
Postcard from a lunch in the woods
I’m at the Antica Farmacia dei Monaci Camaldolesi and it is lunchtime and I am hungry. I have just driven through miles of lonely, misty forest to get to the monastery and I’m surprised to see a restaurant opposite that’s open. I cross a little bridge over a rushing stream in a gorge in the forest and go in. I am the only person there and am shown to a table near a small wood burning stove.
The menu features lots of wild boar, freshly made focaccia, and sausages cooked over a fire. I order and another woman comes in wearing a forestry uniform and packing a gun. The owner follows her to the table carrying a large, freshly peeled carrot on a plate and puts in in front of her as soon as she sits. She quickly eats the carrot. The owner than asks her how the health routine is going and if she’d like her usual salad for lunch. With cheese. And her usual quarter litre of white wine. She agrees.
Two men enter, both dressed in a similar uniform, and also carrying guns. They look over at the woman, and she looks back at them, and the most restrained greeting I’ve ever seen in Italy is exchanged. They are then seated at the other side of the otherwise empty restaurant.
She leaves soon after. I wonder what the real story is. I think of how lonely it would be to work with people in the middle of nowhere that you wouldn’t want to have lunch with.
Gift inspirations: potions and lotions from monks
Last week I made the trek up into the mountains to the Monastery of Camaldoli to buy gifts at the Antica Farmacia dei Monaci Camaldolesi, or the Ancient Pharmacy of the Monks. Usually “ancient” can be a bit of an exaggeration but I think its use is justified in this case as they have been making healing medicine at this place since May 1048. A couple of monks, Guido and Pietro, rented some land (in perpetuity) located right outside the monastery to raise herbs for healing treatments for the newly established pilgrim hospital. The monks have been at it ever since. And they have quite the collections of books of botany and herbal recipes from over the years.
This place feels like it is on another planet. I visited once before for Itch (and wrote about the funny coincidence of this monastery having satellites in Big Sur and Berkeley) and both times I have visited it has been very misty and mysterious.
The monastery and the hermitage, which is a few miles further up the hill and deeper into the woods, are located in the Casentino Forest, one of the largest forested tracks in Europe famous for deer, wild boar, and wolves. The sounds of rushing water are everywhere and the smell of pine and clean air wonderful.
The products I’ve tried have been really good — from the kinda-life-changing foot cream to the teas to the soaps — and I love what they make because of the history, but also because I am becoming more and more aware of the thin thread by which so much of Italian “maker” heritage hangs. The artisans and small businesses creating so much of what Italy is known for are finding it harder to thrive, or to exist at all, in the face of global competition and the relentless drive towards lower prices (and quality). I love supporting this kind of enterprise, where things are still made locally, and not in a huge factory overseas and then a label slapped on.
The Farmacia ships worldwide, and has a 10% discount available on checkout. I found their US shipping prices a bit high so also found another site with lower shipping rates to the US, but not as full a range of Camaldoli products.
A couple of products I have that would make lovely presents or stocking stuffers:
— The Foot Cream. Visitors to the house roll their eyes when I insist that they try this before bed. And then they steal mine. Get your own.
— Herbal Tisane Tea. I am sipping on #3 at the moment, which is a delicious mix of chamomile, lemon balm, and other mysterious things. It’s soothing but not boring.
— Shampoos. I’ve tried a variety of these and liked them all.
They offer a range of other products I want to try from toothpaste to arnica gel to honey to colognes, an increasing amount organic. I love the packaging and labels as well.
Genoa sneak peek: Boccadasse
It’s always a bit of a challenge to figure out the appropriate thing to do for Thanksgiving when living outside the US. Since it is kind of a non-event for everyone around us (and clients are otherwise occupied) John and I decided to a road trip and explore Genoa (Genova) for a couple of days. Complicated, surprising, unexpected place and a fuller report coming soon to Itch.
I wanted to give you a sneak peek from a morning walk we did along the Corso Italia which leads from central Genoa along the coast. After about an hour of walking we passed by a small fishing village called Boccadasse where we had coffee and focaccia and watched the surprisingly large waves crash right next to us. Wanted to share the moment.
Holiday gift inspirations: wearable history
As I described in a previous Itch, my saga to find an antique Roman coin ring has been achieved after many years of searching. But when I was thinking of special things I could share with you that would make great gifts, and easily ship outside of Italy, I decided to go back to the ring’s source and ask the owner what items he has at the moment that he particularly loves—it varies all the time as all pieces are one of a kind. The small store Serra, in Rome, mainly has beautiful china, silver, and crystal, but Alessandro (the fourth generation of the family to have the store) has a passion for history and antique coins and intaglio which he makes into jewelry. He speaks excellent English, can tell you the history of everything he sells, and the authenticity is guaranteed. And he is kindly offering Itch readers a 10% discount.
Something I learned from Alessandro while researching this article is that that making jewelry from coins and intaglio is far more ancient than I’d realized. As Alessandro wrote:
“The custom of encrusting coins to create jewelry is extremely ancient; its origins are to be found in the Greek world and the most widespread was in Rome between the first and third centuries AD. The Romans attributed a talismanic and amuletic power to the jewels thus made, giving the coin a much more complex task than that for which it was minted. Glyptics, or intaglio, are the “minute but not lesser” art of engraving precious and semi-precious stones (but also glass pastes). In Roman times they were widely used for rings, for men or women, necklaces, bracelets and earrings. The engraved stones were worked by skilled engravers — the themes of the figures were chosen by the customers or left to the aesthetic sense of the artist. Almost always the choice was of mythological or allegorical subjects. Still today there is a flourishing market of these ancient stones, which over time have been found because they were often removed and thrown away by those seeking only gold and silver, as by the Barbarians in the days of the invasions.”
Here are a few of Alessandro’s favorite things in the store at the moment. He, of course, has a much wider variety available. To purchase you can contact Alessandro directly at info@serra-roma.it. (I am passing this along because I love this jewelry … no commission.)
Silver ring with a Roman coin of a Gorgon DRACHM – NEAPOLIS (411-348 B.C.). Because of their legendary and powerful gaze that could turn one to stone, images of the Gorgons were put upon objects and buildings for protection. Reverse is Artemis. She was the Hellenic goddess of the hunt, wild animals, wilderness, childbirth, virginity and protector of young girls, bringing and relieving disease in women; she often was depicted as a huntress carrying a bow and arrows. € 670,00 + € 50,00 shipping with insurance (and don’t forget to ask for the 10% discount.)
Gilded silver earrings with original Roman coins depicting Julia Mamea and Emperor Septimius Severus. -Coin 1: Denarius_Front: IVLIA MAMAEA, draped and diademated bust right. JVLIA MAMAEA (180-235 AC). She was the nephew of the emperor Septimius Severus—guy on on the other coin. -Coin 2: Denarius_Front: SEVERVS PIVS AVG. Head right. LVCIVS SEPTIMIVS SEVERVS ( 193-211 A.D.). Born in A.D. 146 at Leptis Magna in Africa, Severus was a soldier of outstanding ability, holding a series of increasingly important commands until, at the death of Commodus, he was governor of Upper Pannonia. Severus was saluted as emperor by the troops at Carnantum. He spent much of his reign in campaigning in different parts of the Empire and also visiting many of the provinces. He died at York on February 4th, A.D. 211. € 890,00 + € 50 shipping with insurance (before 10% Itch discount.)
Gold ring with a Roman intaglio (Ist century A.D. – engraved cornelian) depicting two winged Nike facing each other. Nike is the goddess of strength, speed and victory. €2.550,00 + €50 shipping including insurance (before 10% Itch discount.)
Silver and leather bracelet with original Roman coin depicting Apollo. Denarius_ Front: Laureated head of Apollo. PANSA behind. Apollo is the symbol of male beauty, god of music, art, knowledge, illness resolution, archery and the sun. He is always depicted as a beautiful man with the perfect body form. Rear: C. VIBIUS C. Minerva who leads a quadriga at a gallop. Minerva was the Roman goddess of wisdom and strategic warfare and the sponsor of arts and trade. € 590,00 + € 50,00 shipping with insurance. (Before 10% discount.)