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February 25, 2024 In Best Of, Roam By Nancy

Roman Treasures

Rome is slightly over an hour away from us by fast train, but it always feels like an exotic vacation, even on the briefest trips. In the last month I’ve gone for two overnight stays and found some special treasures—perfect after you’ve experienced the heavy-hitters like the Vatican, Forum, Pantheon, and Colosseum.

The Appian Way

The Via Appia Antica is in the running as the oldest paved road in existence. Begun in 312 BC, it was the first of the Roman superhighways created to move troops and materials—in this case 360 miles from Rome via Naples to Brindisi, an important port town where the Romans bumped up against the Greeks, and an intimidating military presence came in handy.

The most well-preserved section of eleven miles runs through the Appia Antica Archaeological Park, the second largest urban park in Europe. You can get there in fifteen minutes by taxi from central Rome. As I walked along the road paved with large basalt stones, still held in place by an early use of limestone cement, and showing wear tracks from cart wheels, it was impossible not to be swept up in history and natural beauty. This place is simply chock full of interesting things—several catacombs; Roman villas; a tomb of the daughter-in-law of ancient Rome’s richest man, converted in the 1300s to a fortified castle; aqueducts; and flocks of sheep. It was clearly the place to make your mark in Roman times.

We walked for about an hour from the Tomb of Caecilia Metella to the Villa of the Quintilii and were surprised by a flock of sheep running across the road in front of us at top speed. Caecilia’s large, round tomb from 30-10 BC was later incorporated into a walled castle in the early 1300s that is now only a shell. It was fascinating to see what it must have looked like—aided by an excellent VR-tour, complete with helmets—which I had to admit I liked despite my initial skepticism.

Unfortunately, due to a ticketing system hiccup, we didn’t get into the Villa Quintilii, but now have something left to explore. The villa is so large that at first the archeologists believed they were finding a whole town, not a single residence.

The walk itself was stunning. It’s the kind of place where we walked past Seneca’s Tomb and didn’t notice because there were so many things to see—realized it only later when looking at a map. Part of what made this adventure so special was that we were off-season so it wasn’t crowded or hot. The light was stunning with the sun low in the sky. Attempting this in high summer when it’s scalding hot would not be fun.

We had lunch at the Hostaria Antica Roma, a quirky place where the chef has recreated several dishes from the first cookbook in existence, written 2,000 years ago. There are also places to rent bicycles—a great way to explore more of the archeological park—which is enormous.

Domus Romane di Palazzo Valentini

Back in Rome, and next to Trajan’s Column is the Domus Romane di Palazzo Valentini. Discovered in 2005, when work was being done on the 16th-century Palazzo Valentini, workers discovered a well-preserved house, street, and part of another house from 400 AD, buried from 16 to 23 feet under the palace. These were homes of the rich and powerful. The tour wanders through the private bathing complex of the house consisting of plunging pools of various temperatures, a swimming pool, reception rooms, and the family’s private staircase—many walls still decorated with polychrome marble and painted frescoes. A street that used to run outside the house, and some rooms from the house next door are clearly visible. You can also see how the foundations for the Palazzo were put right through the Roman floors below.

An earthquake in AD 538, and subsequent fire, seem to have partially destroyed the house. The scarred beams and earthquake cracks in the elaborate mosaic floors remain to tell the story.

Spaces for the tour are limited, so advanced booking is critical. An audio tour, in a range of languages, and projections on the walls of what the villa might have looked like help to bring this site to life. Morning tours are slightly longer and include an up-close look at Trajan’s Column.

Basilica di San Clemente

The ‘modern”church, from the before 1100, at the top layer of the archeological strata.

Almost in the shadow of the Colosseum is the Basilica of Saint Clement. The Basilica one sees today was built just before the year 1100, which is pretty amazing all by itself, but excavations revealed that the current structure was built on top of two older ones: a 4th-century basilica, and a 1st-century Roman home that housed a Mithraic temple, used for secret, early-Christian worship around 200 AD. I felt the layers of time as we climbed steep staircases down and down to the earliest structures, deep underground.

It’s moving to see these structures, still intact with their early-medieval wall paintings, columns and alters—as well as signs of earlier Republic buildings, like the Roman mint and an apartment block, separated by a street that’s clearly visible. At this period, the population of Rome was around 1,000,000 people so urban density was important. There were many five-story apartment buildings and multi-level houses for nobles.

This visit is less-structured than some of the others, and in some ways more intimate. We did book in advance (always critical), but because it was February, I was by myself on the lowest level—otherworldly and magical.

We had dinner at Hostaria Costanza, set into one tiny part of the massive walls of the Pompeo Theater, built in 61 BC. The setting would have been enough by itself, but the food was lovely, and the staff was smart, funny, and attentive. The kind of crew that noticed with amusement that as soon as we walked through the door Lola, our dog, found the location of the kitchen and was staring in that direction with her considerable focus and powers of persuasion.

And don’t forget to visit another of my favorite archeological treasures in Rome, Ostia Antica.

July 4, 2023 In Best Of, Roam By Nancy

Discovering Lake Maggiore

Italy is sinking under the weight of tourists right now, and it’s not even high-season. I am not too affected by crowds living in such an off-the-radar village, but am always on the lookout for places to go in Italy that are uncrowded and spectacular. We just returned from a week stay on Lake Maggiore and I loved its beauty, diversity of places to visit, and some unexpectedly good restaurants. The times I’ve been to Lake Como the crowds—mostly American—along the promenade in the town of Como have been so overwhelming that it has been hard to walk, even in early Spring. The towns that we visited along the north side of Lago Maggiore and Lake Orta were blissfully empty (as of two weeks ago) and filled with fun things to do, even for the two kids we were traveling with. Surprising as this area is just over an hour from Milan.

Lago Maggiore sits between Italy and Switzerland, nestled at the foot of the Alps. It’s the second largest lake in Italy and extremely deep—lower than sea level for most of its bottom. This depth evens out the heat in summer and the cold in winter, creating a semi-tropical microclimate, perfect for lush hillsides and unusual gardens. We went with extended family to the Villa Valentino, one of the few vacation rentals we’ve been to that is even prettier than the pictures, along with an unusually generous and gracious owner—this place is a gem if you are looking for a house for a large gathering. The deck at the front of the villa had the kind of view of the lake and mountains that made it hard to go inside, let alone get in the car to explore. There were thunderstorms nearly every evening and we watched the dramatic clouds, torrential rain, and lightening approach us from the end of the lake for hours.

Our first adventure was to Lago d’Orta, known for having the cleanest lake water in Europe. We headed to the beautiful village of Orta San Giulio, with its narrow stone streets, and found the lakefront piazza where the small wooden ferries docked. Our destination was a tiny island, Isola San Giulio, just offshore, crowned by the Basilica di San Giulio, started in the 5th century. That’s not a typo. For a few euros the wooden boats, ferry being such a strong word for a boat that fits about 10 people, took us across to the island.

From the water, I spotted a restaurant, Ristorante San Giulio, with a deck over the lake where I assumed that the view might make up for mediocre food. Amazingly, they had a table available for eight right at the lake’s edge and we had a delicious lunch with some unexpectedly kind and attentive waiters—in Italian they had referred to the 9 and 11-year olds as bambini, a common way to talk about kids of all ages, and then stopped to apologize and made sure that the kids knew that they weren’t actually calling them babies.

After lunch we visited the basilica, where the “modern” 12th-century church was built over the foundations of the earlier 5th-century building. We then walked the silent path around the island’s perimeter, skirting the Benedictine monastery that has grown up around the basilica. All along the path are signs encouraging silence, enjoyment of the moment, and contemplation.

The next day’s exploration of Lago Maggiore took us to not one island, but two. We drove to Stresa, which is often touted as a “mini Cannes”. We drove to the dock and again found a selection of beautiful, small ferries waiting to take us across the water for just a few euros. I love to be on the water, especially on wooden boats, and could have ridden around on these for the rest of the day. Our first destination was the tiny Isola dei Pescatori, or Island of the Fisherman. It’s inhabited year round by a population of 25. We had lunch in a lovely and sophisticated restaurant, Verbano, on a point with a stone deck draped with jasmine and wisteria with views to the Palazzo Borromeo. It also is an inn with twelve rooms.

After lunch we boarded another ferry to head to Isola Bella, or beautiful island, with its massive Baroque 17th-century palace and gardens created by the powerful Borromeo family. One of the ornate huge rooms has an alcove with a bed that was used for one night in August 1797 by Napoleon and Josephine. The description on the wall echoes complaints from 200 years earlier—how the Napoleon and 60 troops arrived with only one day notice, required special meals, and left the place “dirty and smelly”. Apparently the Empress Josephine was “much more polite than the great hero.”

Others enchanted by these islands include Hemingway, setting the final chapters of A Farewell To Arms here. “I rowed towards Isola Bella and I approached the walls, where the water suddenly became deep and you could see the wall of rock going obliquely down into the water, and then I climbed up towards the Isle of Fishermen where there were boats pulled dry and men mending nets.” This villa was also the setting of a meeting between the United Kingdom, Italy, and France in 1935 forging an agreement, the Stresa Front, to try to stop the advance of Hitler. This agreement fell apart months later when Italy invaded what is now Ethiopia.

An exploration closer to the villa was to an old church perched above a gorge with a rushing river 85 feet below. There’s a small bridge for cars paralleled by a foot bridge perched above the abyss, impossibly built in the 12th century.

But it wasn’t just scenery that we were after. There’s the charming Ristorante Grotto Sant’Anna where cascading terraces filled with thick stone tables are perched along the side of the gorge. We had such a surprisingly good meal here that we returned a second time. From the restaurant there’s an easy trail that heads downhill, following the river, to the beautiful lakeside town of Cannobio. I thought that the topography looked familiar and realized that we were only 13 miles from the stunning gorge we’d found last year in Switzerland on our road trip to England.

This proximity to Switzerland wasn’t just geographical. We found this area intriguing as you can feel the southern Italy versus northern Italy differences. It felt almost more Germanic than Italian, and the predominant nationality of tourists we saw, other than Italians, was German and Swiss, judging by license plates. Italy’s unification in 1861 was so recent that I am constantly intrigued by how distinct the architecture, food, language, and culture are from region to region. It is part of the reason that Italy is never boring.

We didn’t have time to visit the Hermitage of Santa Caterina del Sasso, an 12th century complex perched on a balcony of rock with a sheer cliff dropping to the water, but I will next trip. And there will be a return trip.

April 30, 2023 In Best Of, Live By Nancy

The Mediterranean diet

I’m doing something next weekend that really scares me. I am joining a hike from La Verna back to our village. Ten miles a day, mainly up and down over steep terrain, two overnights. I lost a bit of my confidence for such things after the Chamonix helicopter rescue debacle. To prepare, I decided to pick up some things, like hiking boots, at Decathlon which is located in the big box store area of the larger town near us. I want to be fit and ready.

We timed our shopping excursion around having lunch in the next town to break up the routine. Although this town has a beautiful medieval center that includes Roman ruins we chose an easy to get to restaurant in the suburbs near the box stores, not our usual neighborhood for restaurants. John found a simple, family Italian place that people seemed to love in a modern building on a modern street, I Bottega.

We entered the restaurant with the best of intentions. It’s been long past time, for me, to tackle the toll on the waistline of eating and drinking whatever I want in Italy. John and I have been dialing it back and eating mainly vegetables and lean meats. Along the lines of the famed Mediterranean diet.

I keep reading about this mythical way of eating. Loads of fish. Fresh fruits and vegetables. Whole grains.
Little red and no processed meat. And I marvel. What Mediterranean are they talking about? I can drive to the body of water known as the Mediterranean in two hours so I think I am in the Mediterranean sphere of influence but you’d never know it from what people eat around here. Every menu is largely identical. A full meal includes appetizers, which are a couple of different toppings on slices of saltless Tuscan bread. The other choice is the cheese and salumi plate which is usually served on a cutting board (it’s called a tagliere, which means cutting board) with five or six different kinds of preserved meats—prosciutto, salumi and the like—and pecorino, in a few different stages of aging. This is followed by the pasta course, and then usually by meat. Almost always a steak as this region is famous for its Chianina beef, or pork. If you are lucky you can order a bit of sauteed spinach on the side. The other ubiquitous food staple is pizza. Where is the fish? The fruit? The vegetables? Where are these people eating this stuff because all the 90 year olds I see are enthusiastically eating prosciutto and pasta?

So back to the restaurant. We walk in, heads held high and backs firm in resolve. We arrive right at 12:30 so are very early and the only ones there. We had our dog and they, as with every other restaurant we’ve ever been in, are delighted to see her. A set designer would have a really hard time replicating this place. Every wall is covered with paintings of different genres, all bad. Between the paintings are shelves filled with nick nacks. Every real Italian restaurant has at least one TV going in every room, and this one is no exception. It’s tuned to a motorcycle race which, it turns out, is hard to look away from. Most Italian restaurants worth the time also have a radio blaring and so did this one.

There’s a huge menu on a board hanging on the wall with about eleven types of freshly made pasta and an equal number of sauces. The trouble with this presentation is that it takes skill and practice to know what you are allowed to pair with what. It looks easy but is a minefield. Pesto on pici? You’d be better off dead. But we are ignoring all of of the pastas and trying to figure out what virtuous bits of meat we will have with a simple salad or maybe some of the ever present sauteed spinach. We are strong and resolute.

Then a lovely, warm 40-ish waiter arrives. He explains that his mother has been working all morning on several types of fresh pasta to go along with some interesting sauces his grandmother makes. He is bearing two very full “amuse bouches” plates of large pieces of bread topped with a traditional chicken liver thing, but this time it was cooked nine hours by his grandmother and was delicious, and sauteed greens with sausage that was also lovely. And the two are more than enough for lunch but here we are and need to order. He says that mom will make us a sampling of what she’s whipped up this morning and we, of course, say yes. We order roasted duck to share and greens. There’s an open bottle of house wine on the table. Our pastas arrive in two small flying pans which are set on the table and are unusual and delicious. The duck is incredible. Yet another meal where the Mediterranean diet ideal hits reality. Over the course of the meal the restaurant becomes packed with couples and families, all happy to be there and content. Three more dogs walk in, one is a Bernese Mountain dog who doesn’t even begin to fit under the table.

And this place touches me and puts everything else in perspective. I marvel at this constantly—there is nothing obvious in this decor, or this cuisine that speaks to me on an inspirational level—stick me in most places in France and I feel inspired and want to live that way, but Italy doesn’t push the same buttons of aspirational desire. But there’s something even deeper here. The acceptance, warmth, and lack of self-aware positioning of this place, the pride in creating simple things of flour and water and meat and tomatoes, the purity of being whole-heartedly comfortable in who you are and what you do still take my breath away when I find it, which I do often. Maybe this way of being in the world is what’s actually at the heart of the famed Mediterranean diet.

Now wish me luck on my hike.

January 8, 2023 In Best Of, Chow By Nancy

An adventure in Normandy

The older I get, and with a birthday coming up on Monday that is top of mind, the more I realize that one of the most necessary elements in my life is adventure. And one of my top adventure partners is Meg Ray, the unstoppable founder and cake boss at Miette. She’s in the planning stages of her third book which is on several chefs and bakers in France who are breaking all the rules and French traditions. When she suggested that we take an overnight trip to Normandy to visit the new restaurant of one of her favorite rebels, John, another friend, and I were in.

The Presbytere is in, as the name promises, an old church and parsonage on an estuary of the river Sienne, by the hamlet of Heugueville-sur-Sienne. The restaurant was started by British chef Edward Delling-Williams, who originally trained at St. John in London, then moved to Paris and opened a successful restaurant Le Grand Bain and bakery Le Petit Grain. He describes his new restaurant as part English pub, part Norman bistro, and he features the best of hyper-local ingredients prepared in sophisticated, yet earthy and simple ways.

Ed sat with us before dinner and revealed his reason for choosing this new location for his work. With three young children he wants to be as close to self-sufficiency as possible, growing much of his own food and being well away from urban centers. Thought-provoking actions from a self-declared collapsist.

We changed the subject to a lighter topic, namely where we should have lunch the next day, and he suggested one of his favorite places, a shack on the beach that serves only mussels, oysters, lamb, fries, and wine, called La Cale (I am afraid there’s no website to link you to). I didn’t need more persuading. We walked along the beach at high tide before the restaurant opened—it doesn’t take reservations and we were warned to get there early. It’s located next to a concrete boat ramp that leads into the sea and the “shack” description was not stretching reality. One whole wall is constructed of glass panels and swings out on hinges to embrace the wooden outside deck and protect it from wind, leaving the restaurant completely open on one side. There is a small stage and a big open fire that was crowded with pieces of meat on a grill. A hutch contains serve-yourself plates and utensils. All the walls are covered with paintings—badly-painted nudes, mostly female. I didn’t notice when we sat down that my seat placed my head right next to a penis in the painting behind me. For some reason the other side of the table found this amusing.

The place filled up almost immediately and we got bread, oysters, a steaming, enormous pot of mussels, lamb, and local rose wine, just as promised.

The band was a duo in their late sixties which upon closer inspection revealed that the lead singer was a transvestite. The meat-cooker was a person with a beard wearing hiking boots and a pink gingham dress. I was in heaven.

Midway though the meal, when I turned to the right to converse, I realized that I had unconsciously noted a series of large tractors going by, all loaded with standing men. It was like I was watching a parade going by through the small plastic window I was facing. The mysterious thing was that they were all headed towards the concrete ramp which ended in the sea a few yards beyond the restaurant. I was mystified about why I didn’t see any tractors coming back and where they all ended up.

We left the restaurant and when we looked towards the sea we were shocked. The tide had gone so far out that the water was now nearly invisible on the horizon, leaving a huge patch of revealed sand. And oyster traps. And men in waders who were loading the oysters into the tractors, which were now dispersed all over the still wet and boggy sand. In addition to the more organized oyster farmers were locals, mostly French grandmothers, armed with hoes, shovels, buckets, and wearing rubber boots headed out to harvest their own oysters in unfarmed areas.

In the afternoon we took the train back to Paris completing a perfect adventure which will stay with me for a long time.

December 29, 2021 In Best Of, Roam By Nancy

Little treasures of 2021

Here are some of my favorite adventures and discoveries of the year. If you’ve stuck with me this long you know that as much as I love an over-the-top Relais & Chateaux-type joint I find even more delight in small places that may be a little rough around the edges, but are one of a kind. A couple from this year have stuck in my mind with such fondness that I figured you have to know about them.

Greater Bologna

The photo above is from Ca’ Lo Spicchio, a house from the 1500s in the mountains about 45 minutes away from both Bologna and Modena that offers one room for rent. It’s almost impossible to find, but worth the drive down one-lane unpaved mountain roads, except when Google Maps is insistent that you turn up a goat path. Run by a retired advertising executive and his fashion-industry partner every detail is thought through and done with an attentive eye, from the building restoration to the guest room touches. Their home also includes two dogs, seven cats, two horses, chickens who are the focus of attention from the fox they befriend, and one of the best situated pools I’ve seen. The guest suite has a bed and lounge up more of a ladder than staircase located above the living room with a big fireplace and wood-burning stove. Definitionally cozy.

The Truffle Hunters

One of my favorite films of the year, The Truffle Hunters is a documentary with intelligence, heart, a poetic eye, and humor, beloved at Sundance and Cannes. It’s a breath of fresh air —not one cliched drone shot—with every frame filled with creativity. I laughed out loud several times the first time I saw it as each new scene was a surprising delight, and I could feel the fun the filmmakers had creating it. The film follows a men hunting white truffles in Piedmont, Italy—a notoriously closed and suspicious group who somehow opened up to these two American filmmakers, Michael Dweck and Gregory Kershaw—who shot the documentary over three years. Dweck and Kershaw were able to capture the men’s trials and joy, as well as the cutthroat, competitive world of selling and marketing this high-priced delicacy when supplies are dwindling due to climate change and competition. It embodies so much of what I love about Italy, and the Italians, and I hope you get as much joy and inspiration from it as I did.

Tivoli

On a trip to pick up Sebastian at the Rome airport we spent a night in the small town of Tivoli, which is more car-friendly than driving into the center of Rome. What started out as a night of convenience turned into love. Tivoli is the nearest town to two of greater Rome’s heavy-hitting sites—Hadrian’s Villa and Villa d’Este—but it turned out to be charming in its own right. The modern outskirts that you spiral around to reach the historical center on a plateau are not promising, but once you get to the old town it has that mix that I love—real, working, a little dingy, and bursting with life.

At night we walked Lola down a dark, narrow medieval street when from behind a shuttered second floor window we heard “Alexa, spegni la luce” (“Alexa, turn off the light”). Perfect moment.

We stayed at the Residenze Gregoriane, which is part of a palace from the 1500s. It has only three rooms, decorated in an older Italian aesthetic, and serves breakfast in a perfect courtyard adorned by frescoes and mosaics created by some of the same artisans who worked on the Villa d’Este. The family who runs it is one of warmest and most welcoming we’ve run across, which is saying a lot in Italy.

We visited Hadrian’s Villa on a very hot day and we lost our breath in more than one way. Another visit is in the cards during the cooler months. Built between 118 and 138 AD the ruins of this single palace are extensive and gorgeous. It has been revered since Renaissance times and I had one of those moments, which I occasionally get in a Roman ruin, where I am overcome with the sophistication, beauty, and grace of the lives of the elite Romans. This architecture had a goal of impressing visitors, no doubt, but it transcends its “look how rich and powerful I am” mission into something profoundly pleasing. Which many of other such palaces don’t. Looking at you, Forbidden City.

Also near, and somewhere I am excited to visit, is the Villa d’Este, started in 1560. A masterpiece of Italian garden design, it’s known for its fountains, including one that is an organ fueled by water.

Tivoli is a great base for those seeking a deeper experience of Rome beyond the main sites in the center. Close by is also the Temple of the Vestal Virgins, among the other UNESCO sites.

Maremma

This part of Tuscany, bordering the Tyrrhenian Sea, is not very well-known. On the mainland there are many Etruscan sites and gorgeous beaches. Just off the coast are the islands of the Tuscan archipelago. We went for an a couple of nights to the Hotel Torre Mozza, with seven rooms. Our room was in the 16th-century watchtower that juts into the Mediterranean and had a door cut through the thick defensive walls opening over the waves.

The island of Elba is a short ferry ride away from Piombino. I had spent several days on the island a couple years ago, but this trip we just went over to the island for memorable lunch on a small square at the Trattoria Moderna di Matteo in the tiny town of Capoliveri.

“Ancora Tu” by Lucio Battisti

Sebastian introduced me to this Italian mega-hit from 1976, “Ancora Tu” (“You Again”), from one of Italy’s biggest musical stars of the 1960s and 70s, Lucio Battisti. I just love the poignant way it captures the magic of a familiar love.

You again, it doesn’t surprise me, you know. / Ancora tu, non mi sorprende lo sai.

You again, but, weren’t we supposed to not see each other any more? / Ancora tu, ma non dovevamo vederci più?

And, how are you? Useless question. / E come stai. Domanda inutile.

You’re like me, and we can’t help but laugh. / Stai come me, e ci scappa da ridere.

My love, have you eaten or not? / Amore mio, hai già mangiato o no?

I, too, am hungry and not only of you. / Ho fame anch’io e non soltanto di te.

How beautiful you are, you seem younger / Che bella sei, sembri più giovane

or perhaps you’re just nicer. / o forse sei solo più simpatica.

Oh, I know what you want to know. / Oh io lo so cosa tu vuoi sapere.

No one, no, I just restarted to smoke. / Nessuna no, ho solo ripreso a fumare.

It is still you, unfortunately the only one. / Sei ancora tu, purtroppo l’unica.

Still you, the incorrigible one. / Ancora tu, l’incorregibile.

But to leave you is not possible. / Ma lasciarti non è possibile.

No, to leave you is not possible. / No, lasciarti non è possibile.

To leave you is not possible. / Lasciarti non è possibile.

No, to leave you is not possible. / No, lasciarti non è possibile.

It is still you, unfortunately the only one. / Sei ancora tu, purtroppo l’unica.

It is still you, the incorrigible one. / Ancora tu, l’incorregibile.

But to leave you is not possible. / Ma lasciarti non è possibile.

No, to leave you is not possible. / No, lasciarti non è possibile.

To leave you is not possible. / Lasciarti non è possibile.

No, to leave you is not possible./ No, lasciarti non è possibile.

Desperation, joy of mine, / Disperazione, gioia mia.

I’ll be still yours, hoping it’s not madness. / Sarò ancora tuo, sperando che non sia follia.

But, let it be what will be. / Ma sia quel che sia.

Hold me, my love, / Abbracciami amore mio,

hold me, my love, / abbracciami amor mio,

‘cause now I want it too. / Ché adesso lo voglio anch’io.

You again, it doesn’t surprise me, you know. / Ancora tu, non mi sorprende lo sai.

You again, but, weren’t we supposed to not see each other any more? / Ancora tu, ma non dovevamo vederci più?

And, how are you? Useless question. / E come stai? Domanda inutile.

You’re like me, and we can’t help but laugh. / Stai come me, e ci scappa da ridere.

My love, have you eaten or not? / Amore mio, hai già mangiato o no?

I, too, am hungry and not only of you. / Ho fame anch’io e non soltanto di te.

How beautiful you are, you seem younger / Che bella sei, sembri più giovane

or perhaps you’re just nicer. / o forse sei solo più simpatica.

Il cantautore italiano Lucio Battisti 1969

October 3, 2021 In Best Of, Roam By Nancy

On the road again

The Second Annual French Road Trip—also known as The Paris Haircut Trip—concluded recently. This time John was with me and I wanted to share with him the sites of the discoveries and adventures I had last year, including the Mt. Blanc helicopter rescue, the mountain top with grazing cows and the hut that makes and sells fontina cheese, and one of my favorite hotels in the world—as quirky and a bit odd-smelling as it happens to be. If you’d asked me last year if Covid was going to be equally on my mind in twelve months time I would have seriously doubted it. Sad to still be going around in masks and in fear, but I thought you might be interested to know what it’s like to travel in France and Italy at the moment.

American readers might have missed that both countries have instituted a Green Pass system, a QR code-based golden ticket that documents your vaccine status, Covid antibodies, and test results. In both countries you need to show you are vaccinated, have antibodies, or a negative test within the last 48 hours to eat at any restaurant, go in a museum, theater, gym, indoor pool, attend a conference or event, take a high speed train, and more. The pass makes travel within the EU much easier too. In Italy, Prime Minister Draghi has gone all-in and required that all public and private employees have the vaccine to stay employed. And in France, your Green Pass is checked even sitting outdoors at cafes and restaurants. There have been a few sputtering protests in both countries but the measures have been very popular. And looking at the data it is easy to see why.

Recent Covid case trends: France on the left and Italy on the right

The peaks and falls in the fourth wave coincide with the widespread use of the Green Pass, and the resulting surge in vaccination rates. And it’s not just about new cases, yesterday it was announced that the proportion of Italy’s intensive care places occupied by Covid sufferers was down to 5.1%.

On our travels through northern Italy, the Alps, Burgundy, and Paris people were being remarkably careful. In addition to the Green Pass being checked without exception people were all masked indoors, and pretty universally with N95 masks now, not the flimsy little surgical ones or cloth. On the Paris metro we didn’t see one person unmasked. Testing is easy; Paris has tents on the sidewalk every few blocks where you can drop in and get a free test with results in a couple of hours (nonresidents pay $35), Italy has Covid tests widely available at pharmacies for about $25. The big question to me is about indoor dining at restaurants, which were packed everywhere we went (at this point we are only eating outdoors). I was surprised to see how popular sitting indoors was, given how often Covid is spread in such settings—certainly cut down by the Green Pass requirements, but still a lottery with the Delta variant.

We decided to go to London on the Eurostar for less than 24-hours to see Donella’s new flat and meet her puppy, Nora. Although the paperwork and requirements to get into England were epic, once we got off the train we were in a different world. No checking of Covid status at restaurants, lots of unmasked people everywhere, even on the Tube, and packed restaurants.

We spent a couple of days in Beaune, France this trip, in the heart of Burgundy. It was a town we’d been to years ago, and it was fun getting to know it a bit better. Driving in we passed a store that looked intriguing so we doubled back to go in and found a gem. With two small windows facing the street, a narrow room lined with wine, and things like sets of antique meat cleavers and copper pots artfully displayed on a center table it was a little hard to determine what it actually was selling. Turns out, quite a mix. It’s called The Cook’s Atelier and is a family-run cooking school, shop, and wine store. Started by a woman from Phoenix, Marjorie Taylor, and her daughter, Kendall Smith Franchini, whose French husband gave us some excellent advice about wines, the place intrigued me. Everything was carefully curated and had a story, and the shop and cooking school is in a 17th-century building with a lovely carved staircase. They ship internationally and have a beautiful cookbook of favorites from the cooking school that I bought and am enjoying.

Gorgeous photo from The Cook’s Atelier website.

One night I poured through the cookbook to find any special things that I needed to be on the lookout for the next day at the Saturday farmers market. This is a truly lovely French farmers market with lots of very small stands selling just a few exquisite things. One stand was full of different squashes and I remembered a recipe for a squash soup from the cookbook so lugged two large Potimarron squashes around in my market bag along with 8 jars of unlabeled but glorious looking raspberry and strawberry jam, a bunch of cheese, some figs and plums, and mushrooms. These all got carefully packed into the car for the return trip. After we got back to Italy I was shopping at our unexciting local grocery store and I spotted the Same Damn Squash, but now called a Zucca Hokkaido.

I made the soup, with the French squash thank you very much, and I’m quite sure it spoke with a more delicate and nuanced Gallic accent. Anyway it was delicious.

We visited the Hospices de Beaune, a hospital for the poor founded in 1443 by Nicolas Rolin and his wife Guigone de Salins, who in additional to funding the hospital bequeathed some prime vineyards in Burgundy to the hospital. They have an auction every fall where they sell the young wine in bulk. It is the most important wine auction in Burgundy and an indicator of how that year’s wine will be valued. In the 1970s the hospital relocated to a modern structure at the outskirts of town.

Hospices de Beaune

We happened to be staying with friends in Paris who live very near the L’Arc de Triomphe so we got to watch the Christo and Jeanne-Claude project wrapping the monument being installed and finished. It was fascinating to see it come together during dog walks and watch the workers rappelling off the top of the monument.

L'Arc de Triomphe Chriso wrapped

The other highlight was a chance decision to duck back into the Romanesque (and oldest in Paris) church at St. Germain-des-Pres which has been glowing from its recent cleaning and restoration. I want every single pattern and every single color in my life every single day.

church St. Germain-des-Pres

One thing I love about doing this trip is the excuse to stop in Italian cities we wouldn’t normally visit. We stayed in Parma on the outbound and Turin on the way back, both beautiful, walkable, and with a surprising thing to see in Italian cities—a wide age demographic.

Turin after a storm

Treasures we discovered, or rediscovered along the way…carefully edited. This is only the good stuff in case any of it ever comes in handy.

—Lovely wine bar, Croce di Malta Caffe and Cucina Vini in Parma on a cute courtyard. We had a really good starter on fresh focaccia, ricotta, and Parma ham. Ah yes, the ham. A 30-month Prosciutto Crudo di Parma Sant’Ilario.

— In the Val d’Aosta, the valley in Italy that butts up against Mt. Blanc, we returned to stay at the Maison de Saxe in Courmayeur and this time snagged the room with the balcony nestled among the massive roof tiles in the 17th-century hamlet and a view of Mt. Blanc.

Maison de la Saxe room balcony with Mt. Blanc view

— On the way up to Courmayeur we stopped in Aosta and had a lovely lunch in a courtyard at a little restaurant called Stefenelli Desk. Interesting, refined, and delicious menu.

— Over to the French side we stayed at two places in Burgundy, Chateau du Saulon, and of course John had to stay at the Chateau d’Island with me, which is the subject of a past Itch.

— In Beaune, on our return, we stayed in a lovely hotel inside the town walls for two nights, Les Remparts.

And, oh yes, the hair. Thanks to the ever-masterful David Mallett who makes it worth the trip.

Now my glam trip is over and I am back to mowing.

One more gratuitous shot from Chamonix of Mt. Blanc cause it’s so Wes Anderson.

Chamonix

July 11, 2021 In Best Of, Roam By Nancy

Venice discoveries

I love Venice but I’ve always hated the area around the Rialto Bridge. It’s too crowded, usually hot, and lined with the kind of restaurants where they try to lure you in as you walk by waving menus in English coated with plastic. My preferred neighborhood, Dorsoduro, feels more local and I’ve shared my favorite haunts here. But when we decided to go to Venice recently for John’s birthday to take advantage of the lack of crowds, we booked a hotel a friend had recommended that was smack dab in the middle of the Rialto Bridge area and we discovered a couple of gems.

The Hotel al Ponte Antico is a restored palazzo right on the Grand Canal next to Rialto Bridge. We went a little nuts for John’s birthday and booked their Junior Suite with Patio with glass doors that opened onto a private quai on the Grand Canal. No railings, no separation, just the traffic and trade of the canal passing by at eye level. The main photo above is the table outside our room. They also have a memorable porch for breakfast and aperitivi. No long lens in this shot—Rialto really is that close. The hotel has less than 10 rooms so it is lovely and intimate. We were lucky enough to have had the whole place to ourselves.

al Ponte Antico venice

The restoration from a nearly empty shell took years and unleashed all the monkeys in the zoo at the Venetian Planning Department. The two brothers who own the hotel were completely hands-on during the restoration and were joined daily by at least one Venetian official who watched over everything. One day they were painting the exterior wood trim of a multi-paned glass door overlooking the Grand Canal a certain city-approved shade of brown with a hint of red. On the inside the owner asked the painter to mix in a touch more of the red which they applied as a test to a small section of the door. The planning official then stopped work because the color had too much red. They offered to paint it over immediately with the approved color they were applying outside but the damage had already been done. All work on site was halted for two weeks and they had to pay a penalty. He recently received a certified letter saying that he must report to jail for the offense. This he shrugged off saying that the jail sentence would be reversed with yet another fee.

Good food in Venice is hard to find as so many restaurants are geared to tourists. We found Ai Mercanti in a tiny, nearly impossible to find square that offers innovative, local, and delicious food. And we discovered that even a stone’s throw away from the main tourist thoroughfares this area of Venice has its share of locals, quiet streets, and hauntingly beautiful canals.

The islands are always fun to explore and easy to access via the Vaporetto line 1. We headed out to Burano, nestled next to Torcello. Burano is a fishing village famous for its brightly painted houses and lace. The houses were even more vibrant in color than what I was expecting and a visual delight.

But what really made the trip special was a destination lunch at Venissa, which is on a tiny adjoining island accessible by footbridge. Venissa has a Michelin star and a large garden where they grow their own grapes for an acclaimed white wine. We ate next door to the one-star at their more casual Osteria Contemporanea.

Venissa Burano Venice

The tasting menu was diverse and delicious but most interesting were the paired wines—all whites— which were unusual and lovely. We’ve ended up tracking several down to have at home. Two of the four were from a small winery near Padova, Maeli, who takes advantage of their highly volcanic soil to produce some interesting sparkling wines featuring yellow Muscat grapes. We had their Dila Sparkling Wine and their Diloro Fior D’Arancio dessert wine—both fabulous—and I saw that they are available at a couple of US retailers. Maeli is headed by a woman winemaker, Elisa Dilavanzo, as is one of the other whites we loved, Arianna Occhipinti’s SP68 Bianco, from Sicily. Venissa has a small hotel and offers cooking and wine courses.

Venissa Burano Venice

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.

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.

May 5, 2019 In Best Of, Roam By Nancy

Cunning, danger, and beauty: La Foce

Every once in awhile there’s a person, place, point in history, or an aesthetic creation that stops you in your tracks. Something that causes you to think “Could I have ever done that?” And even more rarely, “Could I have ever been that brave?” La Foce, and Iris Origo, provide that spark for me.

The first layer of the experience is the garden, one of the most magnificent in Italy. The Val d’Orcia, south of Siena, and more specifically Pienza and Montepulciano, is one of the most arid and rugged parts of Italy, described by Iris as “bare and colourless as elephants’ backs, as treeless as mountains of the moon. A lunar landscape pale and inhuman… a land without mercy and without shade.”

Iris and Antonio Origo purchased an old, crumbling villa with no running water or electricity, surrounded by this barren land, and over fifty years, starting in 1924, created one of the most iconic gardens in Italy. This curved road, flanked by cypresses, is often on the cover of guide books and was created by them from the barren land.

Iris was half American and half British and very wealthy. Her father died of tuberculosis when she was young. Her father’s family had never accepted his marriage to an Englishwoman and his dying wishes were that she grow up “free from all this national feeling which makes people so unhappy.” He suggested Italy, where she could become “cosmopolitan, deep down” and “free to love and marry anyone she likes, of any country, without its being difficult.” Her mother raised her in Florence, in the Villa Medici in the hills outside the city, where frequent guests included Bernard Berenson (her mom used to play a “guess what painting that detail is from” with him), and Edith Wharton. There she met and married Antonio Origo, the illegitimate son of an Italian aristocrat.

The couple decided to experiment with the latest in agricultural and social ideas with their new property, La Foce, restoring the main buildings, and the tenant farmers’ quarters, creating schools and healthcare facilities, a social club for workers, and undertaking massive work restoring the land to arability. Iris took the lead on the workers and families, who when they bought La Foce, lived in dismal tenant-farmer conditions and were 90% illiterate. Antonio focused on making the farm productive. The land had been deforested by the Etruscans, who had cut down all trees and overgrazed the grasses resulting in the loss of almost all the topsoil. For the next 2,000 years the land remained barren, making the planting of crops, and even the movement of people on foot between nearby villages impossible due to the heavy, wet clay.

(photo thanks to La Foce)

The before and after is clear in the landscape below—previous to their work most land in the Val d’Orcia looked like the lunar landscape to the right in the photo. The rolling green hills, curved road, and rows of trees were all created by them.

They brought in the British landscape designer, Cecil Pinsent, to work with them on creating the formal gardens. He worked on La Foce on and off for the next 30 years. It is said that the garden gets progressively more subtle and sophisticated as his Italian, and hence the ability to communicate with his worked, improved.

All this is fairly interesting to me, and lovely to visit, but the part that captures my imagination lies with World War II and the fact that Iris was a genius at observation, a very talented writer, and a bold and brave woman caught between her adopted Italian homeland and her British and American roots.

Before the war, and during it, she kept diaries which she kept hidden in different places on the property. If the diaries had been discovered by the Germans during the war it would have meant certain death for her, and possibly for her family. She was very well-connected in Italy, England, and America (her godfather, William Phillips, was the American Ambassador to Italy) so her comments are often deeply behind the scenes but she’s equally adept at capturing what a range of Italians from illiterate workers to the middle-class in Florence to the aristocracy were thinking and feeling during this period.

The Nazis decided to house American and English POWs at La Foce and Iris had to walk a careful line as she needed to appear to side with the Germans or their ability to help hundreds of people behind the scenes, and their work on La Foce, would be lost. At night she was taking food and information to the partisans who were camped in the woods around the house, and to the POWs whom she could not interact with during the day. They were housing orphans and evacuees from the bombings in Turin when the Germans seized La Foce in 1944. The Origos led 60 people to safety (among them many children and babies) by walking to Montepulciano, including through mined fields.

And at night she wrote. Crisp and vivid of detail, while also capturing the big picture of the war, it is almost impossible to believe that she could create such a body of work under such conditions. Her most famous work is War in the Val d’Orcia: An Italian War Diary 1943-44. Very recently published is an earlier diary, A Chill in the Air: An Italian War Diary 1939-1940 which seems, unfortunately, to be relevant today. Iris writes in April 1939, “It is now clear what form propaganda, in case of war, will take. The whole problem will be presented as an economic one. The ‘democratic’ countries, i.e. the ‘haves’, will be presented as permanently blocking the way of the ‘have-nots’ to economic expansion… Fascists are thus enabled to see the impending war as a struggle between the poor man and the rich—a genuine revolutionary movement.”

To immerse yourself in all-things-Iris, it is possible to visit the garden on a guided tour several afternoons a week. The Origo’s daughters, Benedetta and Donata, now have the property and have converted some of the outbuildings into places to stay. The social club they built for the workers, called the Dopolavoro (literally “after work”) is now a restaurant that serves simple but lovely food and wine with a nice outside area to eat on hot days. My hint would be to do the last tour in the early evening, followed by dinner. Pinsent designed the gardens so that the shadows would move like dancers.