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April 18, 2020 In Best Of, Chow, Recipes By Nancy

WhatsApp, cooking, and happiness

Food and community are core to being Italian. About three weeks ago I had an inspiration to bring the two together in a quarantine-friendly way and it’s one of the main things that brings me joy these days. The idea started when I hit the wall about what to make for dinner. The first couple of weeks of lockdown I felt pretty creative in the kitchen but suddenly couldn’t think of a single thing I wanted to make and needed ideas. I reached out to a few close friends who love to cook, all over the world, and started a WhatsApp group that has blossomed into a lifeline for me. I want to share the idea as I haven’t run across descriptions of anything quite like it, although I am sure others are doing this. There’s something about the informality and camaraderie that makes this group very different from an article in the media about cooking in quarantine, a recipe chain email, or even a large Facebook group dedicated to the topic.

The group includes friends living in Beirut, London, Paris, Dublin, our village in Italy, Boston, and Berkeley, California. What has made it work so well? It’s small — a dozen people — so it is intimate and everyone either knows each other or is one step removed. More than about a dozen people might make it unwieldy and overwhelming. These people are fierce and well-matched in skills, creativity, and taste. Most have ties to the village so there’s a common frame of reference. Tastes are multicultural so ideas range from middle Eastern to Vietnamese to Mexican to regional cooking in America and beyond. We try to share recipes along with photos and descriptions. Ideas bounce back and forth with people adapting other’s ideas. Our family has been inspired to up our game in the kitchen which has been fun, not from competition but a sense of play and not wanting to let the group down. And we are very honest with each other — bad days happen when you don’t want to cook at all, recipes turn out badly, worries abound — so it is piercingly authentic.

This group has become my tribe that is feeding me on all levels through this crisis and what surprises me the most is that I am getting to know even close friends better as some days I know what they are having for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. I’ve been moved by how they are taking care of themselves by being creative and nurturing in the kitchen. It has been lovely to see people with completely different lives, who haven’t met yet, supporting one another and cheering each other on. It’s a silver lining that the extra time that so many of us have is being used to nurture, create, and invest in other’s lives.

If you are inspired I’d highly recommend starting your own, on any topic really.

Here a tiny sample of ideas, from the hundreds that have been shared. If you enjoy these let me know and I can share more. The cake in the title image above was made by Donella for Easter. It was an almost 13 pound, six-layer gluten and dairy-free coconut and vanilla monster. No we did not eat it in one sitting.

Stinging Nettle Pesto (from Dublin)

A lot of our recipes tend to be pretty free form like this one: “Collect the newer leaves of the nettles, leaving the quarter or so near the bottom on the plant (wearing gloves, of course), blanch them one minute in rapidly boiling water. Then squeeze out the moisture. Use your favorite pesto recipe from here on out, substituting the nettles for basil, then pulverizing with olive oil, pine nuts, garlic, and usually parmesan.” Our friend in Dublin adds “I make this pesto with a combination of toasted walnuts and pine nuts and prefer grana pandano in this one but Parmesan is great too. Then just use as any other pesto. Also – make tons while the nettles are young — it freezes beautifully.”

A friend quarantined about a mile from us was inspired by the nettle pesto to hand make orecchiette pasta to serve it on.

On the other side of our village another friend made Crostata di Visciole from Pasticceria Boccione in the Ghetto in Rome.

INGREDIENTS:
For the pasta frolla (sweet pastry):
-150g (1 1/2 sticks) unsalted butter, chilled
-300g (2 cups flour)
-150g (3/4 cup) granulated sugar
-1 egg + 3 yolks, beaten
-pinch of salt

For the filling:
-500g (two cups) ricotta cheese (I use goat)
-150g (3/4 cup) granulated sugar
-1 egg, beaten
-200g (9 oz.) sour cherries

To finish:
-1 egg, beaten
-Icing sugar for dusting

Make the Pasta Frolla (sweet pastry):
-Cut butter in small cubes, add to flour in a food processor
-Add the sugar and mix thoroughly
-Add the eggs a bit at a time to bring the mixture together (you may not need to use all the egg)
-wrap the dough in clingfilm and refrigerate for at least 30 minutes

Make the filling:
-Mix the ricotta cheese with the sugar
-Add the egg and mix until combined

To assemble:
-Heat the oven from 180C (350F)
-Line and grease a 20cm (8 inch) cake tin with butter
-Divide the pastry in two pieces, one half the size of the other
-Roll the larger piece out to line the tin with about 1cm (1/2 inch) hanging over the edge
-Put the cherries in the tin and distribute evenly
-Cover the cherries with ricotta mixture
-Fold the overhanging pastry over the mixture and paint with egg wash
-Roll out smaller piece of dough into a 20cm (8 inch) disc
-Cover the top of the pie with the pastry disk
-Paint top of the pie with egg wash
-Bake for 50 minutes. If the crust looks too dark, place aluminum foil on top.
-Cool, and dust with icing sugar

And from Beirut, Lebanon we were teased by this:

Our friend described it as “the real traditional Lebanese bread device called saj. Since it cannot be industrialized pitta bread was created. Saj bread is very thin. The one we are preparing here is “manakish” with zaatar and keshek (orange one). Best eaten straight away while hot.”

We didn’t bother getting the recipe for this one yet, but I will as soon as we figure out how to rig up a device like this in the backyard.

Our Lebanese friend also created about six different kinds of unbelievable looking cookies for Easter. Here’s one. Next week the recipe…

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March 28, 2020 In Best Of, Live By Nancy

Three weeks into Italian lockdown and what helps

It’s hard to imagine life was once any other way. Going out for lunch, seeing friends, or even stopping for a coffee belong to another existence that’s so foreign that I hardly even miss these things. And it is almost impossible to imagine a future that is different than this limbo. Finding a balance as the world rocks is a fresh challenge every day.

Here’s some context of what Italian lockdown means.  If we leave the property (even on foot) we need to have a form filled out declaring why we are out (emergency, doctor’s appointment, to buy food) and if we don’t have the declaration, or it’s not deemed appropriate, the fine can be up to €3000. A dog walk needs to be within 200 meters of the house. We can’t leave our village to go to the next one. The mandate to wear face masks outside the property will likely be imposed tomorrow, joining the nearby village decrees. Every restaurant has been closed for the duration so breaking the cooking routine with take-out is impossible.

But even with these extreme measures the virus marches on. Yesterday our village of 5,000 announced the first two positive cases.

Three weeks into lockdown here are a few things that I’m trying hard to do:

Grab every good moment and hold tight. I look hard for lovely moments and when I find them I hold them close to my heart for a few extra seconds. For me it’s when the light hits the valley in a certain way. The unexpected snow we had (photo above). When the whole family was in the garden planting a hedge. A line from a song. Evening fires. The dog and the cats, almost always, especially when Lola flies through the snow.

Be kind. The few times I go out I thank the people who are doing the essentials to keep the world moving. When I thanked the masked checkout clerk at the grocery store for being there for us and she got tears in her eyes. I thanked the postal woman for working as she slipped a package through our gate with gloved hands. And inside the house we are all cooped up together and it helps to step back and cut everyone some slack. I am finding that every act of kindness takes away a bit of the black knot of fear. I’d love to go further and shop for elderly people, or prepare meals for them, but it is too risky that we might spread the virus to them.

On a Facebook group for the village a woman posted that if anyone was having a hard time affording food for themselves or their families to turn to her and she would do what she can, with no judgement. Immediately others started chiming in, some in very tough financial situations, offering things that they could donate.

We lost one Olympics but gained a more meaningful one. It makes me happy that the scientific community is racing to understand and mitigate the virus and create a vaccine. John has likened it to a kind of Olympics of humanity with many people from all over the planet working around the clock to solve this thing, and to help others. More medals will be earned than we could ever give out.

We are all just people. So many friends are mentioning that video conferencing is breaking down the carefully constructed barriers between our professional and private selves. I vowed a few years ago not to work with anyone who I couldn’t really be myself with and it has changed everything. I think this is especially true for women who often need to be perfect professionals and sweep all evidence of a family and conflicting needs under the rug when they go to work. l hope this portal into people’s real lives changes the way we relate when things get back to a new normal.

Turn off the screens. I am working hard so hard at this one and failing most days. I have realized that I don’t need to know all the latest all the time. It provides a false sense of control but it actually just keeps me spinning. I am trying to check the news less — a bit in the morning and in the evening when the Italian infection and death rates are announced.

Cook. This is the centerpiece of what is keeping me sane. Creating something delicious and nurturing fills my soul with what I need. Tomorrow I want to start a WhatsApp group of inspired cooks I know to share what they are making. It would be fun to get inspiration from friends.

Ride the rollercoaster. Some days are much, much better than others. And some moments are awful. Like yesterday when I could barely get out of bed. The kindness clause above probably also applies to me. Meditation and walks help even things out.

And I saw fresh wolf tracks near the house. With the absence of humans wildlife is expanding their range.

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March 15, 2020 In Best Of, Live By Nancy

How Italians are handling the lockdown with grace and style

Italians have never really had much of a national identity, with the exception of during the World Cup. Instead one’s allegiance is with the village, and maybe with the nearby villages or towns when a question of regional pride comes up. But this lockdown is different. There’s pride in the air about doing this extraordinary thing for the common good. Marry that to an insatiable need to connect, share, and be social and some creative and touching things happen. I feel an overwhelming sense that we are alone in our homes but all in this together. Right there now there is 70% approval rating in what the Italian government is doing and 70% of Italians agreeing on anything is a miracle.

All countries will handle lockdowns in their own way, with some novel ideas to burn off stress and connect, but I wanted to share a few things that have happened this week in Italy.

The stay-at-home flash mob idea is big. You’ve probably seen an article about it but my Italian friends are sharing videos from all over the country — the streets are truly filled with music. There’s some coordination through social media instructing people to open windows at a certain time and sing the national anthem, or a pop song popular in the 1970s, or a locally popular ballad. Six in the evening is a popular time for this and our village bells rang and rang in solidarity with the people singing yesterday, according to a friend of mine who is sequestered at the top of the hill in the old section and nearer the action.  I dare you to watch this short video and not cry. (It was shot by Jacopo Losco, a first year university student in Milan, from his house and sent by a friend.)

Tonight we turned on flashlights from our windows at 9pm. People where waving the lights back and forth and calling out “Ciao!” across the small valley.

A Milanese friend says that everyone goes to their windows and applauds at noon in honor of the medical community and support staff who haven’t left hospitals in weeks. People are also lighting candles and putting them in windows in appreciation.

“It will be fine.” Kids all over the country are creating drawings of rainbows with the phrase “Andrà tutto bene” and placing them in windows. I went to the grocery store today and passed several. It warms the heart.

Life at the grocery store. John went yesterday, I went today, and we both had similar experiences. He got there at a bit before opening and there were about eight people in line ahead, everyone waiting very patiently. They let one person in at a time, with time for them put on the plastic gloves by the door and go into the store, and then they let in the next person. When I went today is was during the sacred Sunday Lunch so the store was empty. Both times everything was fully stocked, EVEN TOILET PAPER. Staff masked and friendly. All but a very few customers in masks. Clear demarcation on the floor for the “distance of respect” between people waiting in line. Both experiences were so calm and orderly. It seems to be that people feel like the government has the fundamentals — food, fuel, trash pickup — under control and they don’t need to hoard.

Online school is going well, so far. My friends’ kids who are continuing school virtually seem to be enjoying it. My friend in Milan said her daughter in middle school gets up every morning and gets dressed for online school. Her athletics teacher is even holding remote yoga classes, requesting that students get on their mats on video camera.

Pornhub is waiving their subscription fee for Italy. At least from what I’ve heard.

Signs of Italian pride are growing. People are starting to hang Italian flags from balconies. And this display from the air force with a sound track of Pavarotti singing Nessun Dorma, “let no one sleep”, is moving. And not in a chest-bounding, nationalistic way.

Italians are keeping a sense of humor. Here are two different memes that I particularly love playing on Italian women’s devotion to salons, and hair removal. The salons are, of course, all closed. Both memes show what Italian women will look like when the lockdown lifts (which was originally said to be April 3, but clearly no one knows. Which means it could be worse than this.)

Meanwhile I just got an alert that the death toll in the last 24 hours was a staggering 368. 

I wanted to close with something circulating on Italian social media:

“This is an opportunity to turn an emergency into an opportunity of solidarity and unity. Let’s change the way we see and think. I will no longer say “I’m afraid of this contagion” or “I don’t care about this contagion”, but it is I who will sacrifice for you.

I worry about you.
I keep a distance for you.
I wash my hands for you.
I give up that trip for you.
I’m not going to the concert for you.
I’m not going to the mall for you.

For you!

For you who are inside an ICU room.
For you who are old and frail, but whose life has value as much as mine.
For you who are struggling with cancer and can’t fight this too.

Please, let’s rise to this challenge!

Come together…nothing else matters.”

I think Italy has come together like never before and I’m proud to be a part of it.

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March 12, 2020 In Best Of By Nancy

Staying sane in Italy’s lockdown

We are three days into complete lockdown in our small village in Tuscany. My whole physical world has shrunk to the house above. It is unlike any other experience I’ve had, full of some surprising sweetness and introspection alongside the anxiety, limitations, and worry. I’m discovering a few things that help me cope.

In case you aren’t familiar with the details of the Italian quarantine we are allowed to leave the house only to buy groceries (at the nearest store), or go to the pharmacy. If you do happen to be driving (or even walking) the police can stop you at any time to check on your self-declared paperwork about why you are out of your house. The only movement allowed is to certain kinds of work, a medical appointment, or to buy food. If you are headed to work or a doctor the police will call your boss, or the doctor’s office, to confirm your story. If it doesn’t check out double points will go on your drivers license. The vast majority of stores and all restaurants, bars, and other social gathering places are closed. All schools of all levels are suspended. I saw a casket arriving at the cemetery today without any mourners, just the priest and undertakers, as even funerals are banned.

Although we are only three days into total lockdown we had a week or so before of very limited movement. Here are a few things I’ve learned.

I am not my work. It’s so easy for me to have my self-worth equal success multiplied by busyness. Suddenly it has all come to a grinding halt for the present moment and life is stripped down to the essentials. Additionally every day seems to have a few added hours. In this time I have been doing a lot of things I’ve always had on the list, like meditation, and other kinds of self-reflection. It has been really sweet time with John as we are both trying to figure out this new status, which could last a while, as a team and what will make it work for us.

Nature helps. I crave being outside. I take a long walk with Lola every day – the only time I leave the property — making sure to keep a careful distance from the one or two other people I see out. Walking among fields and trees, and working in the yard, change my mental state and always improve it. If I didn’t have a yard I think even an herb garden in a pot would take on a special significance.

Home projects are finally getting done. We’ve always had a long list of things we’ve wanted to do to the house and are finally tackling some of them. A large bookcase which has been primed but not painted for several years now finally has its coat of paint and has changed the room completely. The olives have never been as well pruned. If you think a lockdown might be headed your way you might want to get what you need to tackle a few projects.

Cooking feels healing. Luckily food in Italy is in plentiful supply including meat, fruits, and vegetables. We are finding one of the big things that feels essential right now is to cook great meals. We’ve been making souffles, ice cream, roasts, cooking steaks over the fire, having the season’s first fava beans and baby asparagus. Meals feel more like a celebration.

I can’t control anything. Always good for me to be reminded of this and build the trust muscle that can handle it.

Indulgences take on a new importance.  We’ve been nurturing ourselves a bit more. Nightly fires are the focus of the evening. Hot baths, shower gels that smell really good, candles, books, flowers picked on walks all lift my spirits. John is playing piano more and learning a new piece.

The world has suddenly become very small and quiet. The air is clearer and crisper with fewer cars on the road, even in our rural area. It smells amazing.

The company of animals is even more precious. Thank God for Lola and the two cats. If you are going into lockdown this could be a great time to get that shelter animal and bond like crazy.

The work at home part. I normally work remotely from Italy and this article by Melissa Romo resonated for me. She writes about some of tricks of the trade she’s developed to kill it working remotely.

We are all in this together. It feels right and good that we are all attempting to curb this thing village by village, city by city. The mayor of the neighboring village posted a video last night saying that there were too many people out of their homes yesterday. Today a friend and I were going to walk our dogs together by the river but decided not to as it didn’t seem like it was sending the right message. We have to protect the grandparents in the village in every way we can. (The average age of the Italian victims is an astonishing 81.) Particularly in the North hospitals are completely overwhelmed in every way from beds to staff and we can’t let it get that way here.

Suddenly we want to reach out to people we really care about but don’t talk with often enough. And we are surprised to find that people from all parts of our lives are getting in touch with us. It is a lovely thing.

More later as it evolves for us all.

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March 9, 2020 In Best Of, Live By Nancy

The village vs. coronavirus

What is life like under the shadow of the coronavirus in my small village in Tuscany? Much feels different since the weekend decree holding 14 million Italians in quarantine in the North, and just finding out we are included in the lockdown. Some things remain the same, like my daily walk where I often see locals out for trail rides.

The villages of our valley issued a statement that in addition to all schools being suspended (preschool to universities), so are sporting events, public and private events, including theaters and cinemas, all civil and religious ceremonies, including funerals (?!), discos and clubs. Visitors to hospitals and nursing homes are strictly limited. Businesses, cafes, and restaurants remain open but must guarantee that any patrons are at least one meter apart. If the measures are disregarded the punishment is three months in jail. Everyone who just fled Milan is supposed to self-quarantine for 14 days.

A friend in Milan was sharing her large consulting firm’s response to the virus (this was from last week, not sure how it has changed as of today). All entrances were closed except for one. Everyone entering and exiting had their temperatures taken. No more than two people in an elevator.

Our local grocery stores are still well stocked, including toilet paper (still don’t quite understand the run on that in the States) and we are working on our hand sanitization routines. Ok, load bags in car, return cart, sanitize hands and bottle before unlocking car. Drive home. Unload bags. Shit! Now the contaminated bags are in the kitchen!!

I saw an elderly man at the shared sink outside the bathroom at a tiny local restaurant counting while thoroughly washing his hands. Another man was doing our disinfection dance outside his car after exiting the pharmacy.

The pharmacy is one of the great things about Italian life. It’s the first line of defense for all matters of health with smart, trained pharmacist/doctors who consult with you about minor health issues, do small procedures, and give prescription medicine if they deem appropriate.  Now only one person in at a time can enter and  the counter cordoned off so all customers stand over a meter away from the pharmacist and register. The best thing is that they have contracted with a local lab to make hand sanitizer. Pretty impressive with only two stores.

There is suddenly a big push on social media to not go out in public, complete with its own hashtag #iorestoacasa “I stay at home”.

Where am I in all of this? Trying to adhere to #iorestoacasa despite my hatred of being cooped up. We live in such a small town that work, travel, hanging in cafes, and having lunch out every day are my escape valves, and now I don’t have them. I had to do an errand this morning and passed a cafe with tables in the sun where I badly wanted to stop and have a coffee but decided not to. I feel so cognisant of how many elderly people there are in our village and I want to protect them as much as possible. Unfortunately Donella and Sebastian cannot return from London for Easter. It’s fascinating to me that London and Donella’s university, UCL, one of the most international universities in the world, are taking so few precautions. According to Donella, London is 100% normal with the exception of a shortage of hand sanitizer. She is required to attend 200 person lectures and they have given no guidance to avoid the London Underground, nightclubs, or pubs which are in full swing. Quite the contrast.

I am tremendously proud of my adopted nation for how transparent and economically selfless the government has been so far — particularly in comparison to my birth nation and the UK which seem to be driven by politics rather than public safety. Testing is abundant, health care free, and people, at least here, seem to be aware that this is important and want to cooperate.

And there’s comfort in the age of this place. That the core of my house used to be a defensive tower in the middle ages, which I am sure has seen its share of people sheltering inside with the huge wooden doors closed. Embracing waiting and uncertainty is hard for us, and I am sure it always has been, and it feels like something I need to look in the face right now.

Meanwhile I am loving the Italian sense of humor which is coming out in full force on social media. A 30-something relative of John’s who grew up the same tiny village in Calabria where John’s grandparents lived (but now lives in the north) posted this:

It means “Nothing works, factories closed, nobody at school, cash is hoarded, refrigerators are full. All of Italy seems to be Calabria.”

Apparently the North/South divide of, well, everything even extends to pasta. Quartz had an article that in Milan the pasta aisle is often bare with the exception of the fully untouched penne lisce boxes. Penne comes in two varieties, striped or ridged, rigate, and smooth, liscio. The Northern Italians scorn the smooth type, apparently not even deeming it adequate to eat during a quarantine, while Southerners, particularly around Naples, prefer it. (That preference transferred to American Italians with the emigration from the South.) Northerners claim that the ridges hold the sauce better. Southerners believe that the ridges cook before the inner part of the pasta resulting in the outer layer becoming overcooked. And that the ridges were a by-product of the industrialization of pasta and the shortcuts that lowered the quality. A Michelin-starred chef from Naples, Gennaro Esposito, was quoted in the delightful Quartz article as saying that penne rigate was “the apex of weak thought.”

A couple of baristas from a local cafe who are as close to Brooklyn hipsters as we get put a series of memes about the village on Instagram. I loved one of their latest. It’s a comparison of the village with, and without, the virus. We are so remote it’s like we are quarantined most of the time.

 

Today I decided to get cozy and make comfort food for lunch as we decided not to go out. Here’s what we made:

Pasta alla siege

Free form recipe but amazing. We sauteed three yellow onions and then added pork sausage to brown well. I had made some of Skye Gyngell’s Slow Roasted Tomatoes that we added (about a cup of them), a two of jars of chopped tomatoes, bay leaves, loads of black pepper and dried red spicy pepper, red wine,  a few dried porcini, and a pinch of organo. It was hot, a little sweet from the roasted tomatoes that added a nice complexity, the porcini gave it a rich undertone. Pretty darn good for a siege.

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March 1, 2020 In Best Of, Live By Nancy

The plague in Italy … and coronavirus

Italy knows a lot about plagues which has taught them to be tough when handling something like the coronavirus. Medieval hill towns were built to keep out soldiers and marauders but the walls also kept sick people inside, or protected healthy people from sick strangers who were barred at the gate. The word quarantine comes from the Italian for forty days, or quaranta giorni, the amount of time that ships were required to be isolated prior to docking in Italian ports from the middle ages on during bouts of the plague. Venice even set aside an island in 1370 and built a hospital/quarantine center for sailors from infected ships to either get better or, uh, not.

A friend of mine from Milan who has decamped to the countryside to escape the current threat in Northern Italy is fittingly rereading Boccaccio’s The Decameron, in which ten people escape Florence during the Black Death to go to the country. During their exile they decide to tell a tale each for ten days to help pass the time. (Boccaccio started The Decameron in 1349 right after the Black Death raged in Florence, killing three-quarters of the city’s population including his father and step-mother.)

Our house, which dates back to medieval times, I’m sure has seen its share of disease, and was used as a hospital for patients during the Spanish Flu of 1918-19.

I think this long history has given the Italians a certain pragmatism about epidemics. We are not anywhere near the “red zone” in the north but the risk is on everyone’s minds. I’ve been fascinated to see how it plays out in day to day life.

The first thing I’ve noticed is a lot less cheek kissing when people greet each other, something impossible to imagine a few weeks ago as it is such a universal and ingrained behavior. Bars and restaurants are as packed as ever, but there’s a slight hush and subtle movement away if anyone coughs or sneezes and people are looking at one another to judge the appropriate response. The grocery stores seem back to normal but a week ago we went to stock up a bit more than usual and the atmosphere was thick with furtive glances into other people’s shopping carts (and we were doing the same). There seemed to be a careful watch for what was excessive purchasing. Many spots in the pasta and flour sections were empty, as well as hand sanitizer.

This pragmatism is also apparent in the mass testing by the Italian health authorities, over 11,000 people so far, which has caught positive cases that have not resulted in an illness but made the overall numbers look far worse than other countries that are not being as proactive. The speed with which lockdowns have been imposed on towns at the center of the outbreak was impressive, with people still unable to leave their community, although movement within the towns has freed up in recent days.

This is taking a significant toll on the economy with 200 million of euros of travel bookings cancelled — and tourism is 13% of Italy’s GDP.

Am I scared? Yes and no. Like people everywhere we’ve been increasing our handwashing, bacterial wipes, practice of not touching faces, etc. but I’m not too stressed about it, taking my cues from the people around me. I think we all realize it is highly likely to spread further in Italy, but that we will get through this together. Italy has seen worse.

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February 23, 2020 In Best Of, Chow By Nancy

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.

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February 8, 2020 In Best Of, Live By Nancy

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.

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January 27, 2020 In Best Of, Roam By Nancy

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.

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