My Tuscan Farm

I'm having some problems with gas...

2012-02-10T05:41:00.000-08:00

Gina in her condo on the way to spend the night in our bathroom

I was hoping to have good news today after our first day in ten of sun and blue skies, but the Italian forecast was precise...blizzard was the word they used, and they were right on. We woke up to 15 cm of new snow and it hasn't stopped (5:00 pm right now).

Here in the countryside we use gas for heat, cooking, and hot water. The tank has a gauge on it that I have watched compulsively for 10 years. Fear of running out of gas, especially when the inn is full of guests, is a real fear... and it happened one Easter. Try to get a gas truck to come out on Easter Sunday! The Italian guests were calm, "beh, succede," it happens... others weren't as transcendental...

I stopped watching that gauge about a year ago when I signed up with a different gas company. My contract is for a tank sempre pieno, always full, a monthly service to top up the tank. What a relief to have that worry lifted from my already lengthy list.

The deliveries started coming automatically; I didn't even have to be home or sign for it. So is it any surprise that I didn't notice the truck's absence? Maybe the truck and gas strikes should have alerted me. My bad weather checklist included firewood, candles, fresh veggies and milk, but it never occurred to me that I should worry about the gas.

And then I smelled it. When the tank is nearly empty, the gas gets a strong gassy smell when you turn on the stove. I called the gas company and they confirmed that the last delivery was 3 months ago.

"Let's get on it," I said. "There's going to be a blizzard tomorrow."

"Sorry, Signora, our delivery truck is at the mechanic."

Silence on my side as I do some deep breathing.

You know, everybody loves to gripe about bad business practices... and I have to admit that after the third call I did ask for their fax number 'so my lawyer could advise them of their responsibility for damages as a result of non-delivery of my gas'... but what can they do now?

One look out the window and you can see that preparations need to be made.

More firewood to the front porch. A huge pot of water on the wood stove.

Extra rooms closed off.

The one electric heater we have, now plugged in.

That truck is not going to get here before Monday.

Just as I'm ready to post this blog entry, the phone rings. "This is the driver for the gas. I just don't think I can make it." It seems the company called in a truck from Rome to make the 2-hour drive to Poggio Etrusco. This warmed my heart (if not the rest of me). "Traffic is at a complete stop on the road; the police will not let us pass. I am so sorry."

I told him I had a room for him if he could make it, and I invited him for dinner.

"Magari! Sei molto gentile, Signora. Spero di vederla domani."

Be careful what you wish for!

2012-02-04T06:01:00.000-08:00

The first days of February have come in with a blast. A blast of icy Siberian air. Balmy was the word I was using to describe this winter up until last week. I love the snow, and it was in innocence that I wrote a post on Facebook, "I wish I could get snowed in," to which another friend wrote, "no, you don't" and I blithely responded "yes.I.do."

The beauty of the snow belies the gravity of the weather report, likening this storm to the devastating freeze of 1985. That was the year that temperatures stayed below freezing for an extended period, resulting in the loss of 80% of Tuscany's olive trees. The crisis actually brought about a lot of changes in the way we now produce olive oil, especially in the identification of the origin of the olives (some large producers were trying to get away with buying foreign olives and calling the oil Tuscan; some Tuscan olive oil had a percentage of other kinds of oil it).

I am worried about my olive trees.

The weight of the first wet snow is breaking limbs. The freeze the night after turned the weight to ice and even the wind didn't shake it down. Now, more beautiful fluffy flakes adding volume to the already 50+ centimeters.

As for the family, we are well-supplied: firewood, flour to make pici, canned tomatoes from last summer's harvest, a good-sized piece of pecorino, an egg a day from the chicken (who has been sleeping in the bathroom these subzero nights), plenty of coffee, and the internet. Oh, and wine. The animals love the snow, even the horses, and there is no denying the absolute loveliness of it.

If it weren't for the tremors of the teenquakes, it would be pretty darned peaceful here. But, I'd like for this severe weather to end soon. Before the trees are harmed.

Sorry, everyone, for wishing for this. I also wished for a million euros right after, but based on my snow wish, now I'm worried that will come with all kinds of taxes and other burdens...

Uova d'Oro

2011-07-02T00:51:00.000-07:00

I love my new girls, Lina (Lina Gallina) and Penny (H.Penny)! They greet me with coos and clucks when I bring them out little treats of melon seeds and pulp, lettuce, or bread. They let me pet them...I won't say that they like it, but they let me. And they are so soft!

Everyone is surprised at how quickly they have acclimated to their new home. One of them gifted us with a perfect little brown egg the first day, and someone contributed again the second day. Today, Day Three, is no different... a little present awaited me this morning when we let them out of the coop. I am starting to amortize the costs of the coop, and right now the value of each egg is roughly Euro 100...Golden Eggs...keep working, girls.

Sublime with toasted country bread, drizzled with my organic extra-virgin, and sprinkled with my Tuscan Herb Salt, a blend of parsley/rosemary/thyme from the organic kitchen garden.
It really doesn't get better than this.

Lui has been dubbed by one of our guests as
'the dog who stares at chickens,'
it's just hilarious how fixated he is on them!

Hen Party, short story long

2011-06-29T02:20:00.000-07:00

It only took ten years to get this Hen Party started.

The stopping point was finding time to build a coop. Recently, while browsing Italian eBay (yes, it's indispensable!), I came across a kit for a precious little pollaio (chicken coop). I took the measurements outside to my potential chicken zone and decided it would be perfect. To be honest, it didn't register just how big (or small) it would actually be...

Once I saw the actual size, I began to define what I really might be able to do. Two or three chickens at the most! This called for careful selection. First, to consider the breed of said hens. And, yes, only girls. The nearest neighbor's rooster offers plenty of farm ambience without another one chiming in from under my bedroom window! And hens will produce eggs without a guy, that much I knew.

I started researching local antique breeds and found several interesting varieties, including the Razza Valdarno from the Chiana valley just below us. However, with more in-depth reading, I learned that this is a breed prized for its meat more than its eggs. Stop. We're simply not going to eat our pets (just their unfertilized embryos...).

I found a charming association of people interested in special breeds of poultry, Il Pollaio del Re, in Grosseto. I hope to visit there at some point, but as time is short during this busy season, that will have to wait. I did find several resources for these nice old breeds, hearty stock with good eggs, but most, with good reason, wanted me to buy a breeding pair to keep the breed thriving. Stop. No boys allowed at our Hen Party...

My Italian friends asked me every day, when will you get your chickens? This was taking me a bit longer than necessary due to my obsessively detailed decision-making process. I still needed to find organic feed! When our guests see the intense color of egg yolks here, they are always surprised. In Italian the word for yolk is tuorlo, but is also called the 'rosso,' or red, for the intensity of color (actually more of a dark orange, to my eye...). This is really determined by the feed, and carotene from carrots and corn give it that color push. But, as we know, corn is the probably the most manipulated food products on the planet, and if I'm to follow the rules for my organic certification (if I want to eventually sell eggs), the regualr corn on the market will not be acceptable. Clearly, if I want to use corn, I'll need to head up to visit my friends in Garfagnana for some of that nice Otto File corn that is still the original variety that was brought from America hundreds of years ago.

In the meantime, I bought some good cracked seeds and grain from the miller in our village (with some regular corn in it), just to get started.

Back to the breed decision, I had become a bit infatuated with the Araucana breed, originally from Chile (or at least South America), but quite well-settled in Italy. Their eggs have a pastel green to blue shell, and I thought it would be fun to have those in our breakfast room. Several breeders were willing to ship me eggs, but that required an incubator and...well... time...

Eventually I decided that I would get a couple of nice hens who, once they started laying, might not notice a little blue or green egg under them waiting to hatch (would solve some broodiness as well). But, then my brilliant daughter pointed out that the eggs could turn out to be males. Stop. The idea of just getting a couple of nice hens was sticking, though, and I was getting a bit tired of my own dawdling...

"Just get them at the Thursday market," everyone said. And, I knew this. For ten years I've been looking at those poor birds and wondering if I could save some of them, henpecked and scrawny and crowded in a stinky box. Everyone knows I am a Rescuer, but this time I wanted something healthy and clean to start my new chicken environment. I remembered that early in this adventure, a friend with an organic property offered me a hen or two from her abundant flock, and I suddenly realized this was exactly what I wanted.

So, yesterday I set out in the little Fiat for my friend's place in Montisi, about 30 kms from home. Putt...putt... it's slow going in this little car, but finally I arrived, snagged two little ladies and put them in the wicker basket I use to take the cats to the vet (imagine the next ride for the cats with the strange and wonderful smell of chickens inside). They sat on the seat next to me, cooing and calm, for what turned out to be quite an eventful ride with an unexpected thunderstorm and an even more unexpected loss of brakes. We arrived home (very slowly, hand on the emergency brake) to a downpour and got the settled in their new home with fresh water and their kibble.

This morning, I could see that they slept in their nests, but didn't leave any treasures.

They surely need some time to acclimate.

When we let them out into their fenced area we noticed that they have a personal guard...

I hope to have some egg news soon!!

Nocino

2011-06-26T06:13:00.000-07:00

Nocino

Walnut Liqueur

The best nocino I have ever tasted comes from my friend Maura in Modena. Her secret is aging it in small oak barrels that are handmade by her barrel-maker husband, Francesco Renzi. The walnuts are picked on June 25, the holy day of San Giovanni. It is the moment when the pulp is still green and the walnut forming inside has not hardened. Once cut and exposed to the air, the green walnut and everything it touches turns dark brown, including your hands. Work on a surface that won’t stain, and consider wearing gloves. Your nocino should be ready to drink by Christmas.

3 litres grain alcohol (190 proof or 95%)

6 cups sugar

5 dozen green walnuts

3 cinnamon sticks

In a large bowl, stir together the alcohol and sugar until the sugar is dissolved. Set aside. Quarter the nuts with a heavy bladed knife or cleaver. Place in a jar and cover with the alcohol. Add the cinnamon sticks and cover the jar tightly. Place it in a warm, dark place for forty days, stirring it every two or three days.

Strain out the walnuts and discard. Then, using a coffee filter, strain out the sediment and put the nocino into bottles (or a small oak barrel, if you are so inclined), and age for at least six months.

Makes 3 litres

2011-06-22T10:26:00.000-07:00

Summer has arrived, and to finish an absolutely wonderful spring, I made the best of the abundance of roses that pepper my property, from the ones at the end of the vineyard rows, to the small rose garden in front of my house. I'm not sure what variety these are, but the pink ones remind me of the Charlotte Armstrong of my childhood. Fragrant and long-lasting, and free of pesticides, they are perfect for the rose petal syrup or rose liqueur I make every year. A spoonful is heavenly in a glass of prosecco or drizzled over aged cheese. I also use the rose petal syrup to make a sinfully aromatic rose petal sorbet in my Gelato! book.

All of the color you see in the bottle above is natural from the roses themselves; red or pink work the best. This year I used only pink.

Rose Petal Syrup

175 grams (6 oz) of fresh, fragrant rose petals (pink or red)

7 cups granulated sugar

Juice of one lemon , including the seeds and some pulp

Pick the rose petals from an unsprayed rose bush in the morning when they are most fragrant. Grasp the tips of the rose and cut near the center, removing only the colored petals, not the white tip at the base or the base itself.

Place in a non-reactive bowl and toss with 1 ¾ cup of the sugar to macerate. Coat well, squeezing the petals to bruise slightly. Cover with plastic film and let stand in a cool place overnight.

Next day, in a large saucepan, combine 3 ½ cups spring water and the remaining 5 ¼ cups sugar. Bring to a boil, stirring, until the sugar dissolves. Add the lemon juice and macerated rose petals with their sugary liquid to the pan and return to a boil.

Reduce to a high simmer and cook for 30 minutes, until a candy thermometer reads 100° C (212°F).

Remove from the heat and let cool to room temperature.

Strain, removing the rose petals and lemon seeds.

Place in sterilized bottles.

Primavera

2011-06-07T02:53:00.000-07:00

Tuscan Primavera 2011, our tenth spring in Tuscany, has been the most luxurious and enduring spring that we have had in a while. It seems the last few years have gone directly from winter to summer, but this year has been truly exceptional. I always think of April as the purple month with lilacs, wistaria, and irises making their debut. May turns red with poppies and yellow with ginestra (scotch broom). Soon we are hauling the potted flowers out of their winter shelter and turning up the garden.

For me, the real joy is in my orto (my kitchen garden), as the buds and seedlings start to pop out. I can hardly resist eating the first flowers on the acacia tree, and then the elderberry tree. See my recipe below. a

flowering quince...........................sage..................................garlic chives

Here is a recipe from my new cookbook,
Cucina Povera, Tuscan Peasant Cooking
which will be released September 2011

Frittura di Primavera

We make this appetizer year round. In the fall and winter we use fuzzy sage leaves and sliced potatoes; in the spring we have elderberry flowers and acacia flowers; in the summer zucchini and their flowers. The important thing is to get the oil as hot as possible without letting it smoke (at least 375°). The hotter the oil is the less absorption in the food. We use olive oil because we have it, and it is delicious, but vegetable oils can be used. Fry in small batches so as large quantities will reduce the temperature of the oil.

4 clusters of unsprayed elderberry flowers (or your local edible flower), rinsed and spun dry

12 Sage leaves, rinsed and patted dry

2 eggs

1 teaspoon salt

¼ cup unbleached all-purpose flour

3 tablespoons sparkling water (or beer or Prosecco)

Extra-virgin olive oil for frying

Salt to taste

Whisk ingredients together until smooth.

Heat the olive oil. Dip the prepared flowers and leaves in the batter, shaking to remove excess, and place in the hot oil. Cook for 1 minute, until golden brown, turn once, then remove to drain on paper towels. Sprinkle with salt and serve warm.

Serves 4

Take a walk with me in our garden on a morning in late April...

Bravio delle Botte

2010-08-20T01:54:00.000-07:00

Bravio delle Botti: Montepulciano, the last Sunday in August

If you are driving around the countryside near Montepulciano this week, you are likely to encounter pairs of healthy young men pushing large wine barrels up and down the rolling hills.

Most every hilltown has its ancient competitions held between the neighborhoods: Siena’s Palio horse race is probably the best known; you will also find an archery challenge in Montalcino, a crossbow competition in Massa Marittima, a pushing contest on a bridge in Pisa, even a race with donkeys pulling little carts in Valiano.

Dating back to 1373, the event in Montepulciano was originally a horse race like the Palio of Siena, but it evolved in 1974 to become the Bravio delle Botti, a barrel rolling race between the eight contrade (neighborhoods). The race, in honor of the patron saint St John the Baptist, takes place on the last Sunday in August.
The athletic spingitori, literally the ‘pushers’ of the barrels start at the Marzocco column in front of the Palazzo Avignonesi and run in pairs, sharing the exhausting efforts of pushing an 85-kilo wooden wine barrel up 1700 meters of steep roads in this 600-meter-high hilltown.

The first team to finish at the Piazza Grande in front of the Duomo takes the bravio, or award, of a beautiful cloth painted with an image of St. John the Baptist, Montepulciano’s patron saint. The panno, as it is called, is unique every year as it is designed and painted by a different artist. The artist for 2010 is Daniele Sasson, a Siennese artist, and the work is done in the Macchiaioli style, a technique made popular by Tuscan artists in the second half of the nineteenth century. This piece of art will be seen for the first time on 22 August.

The eight contrade of Montepulciano are Cagnano, Collazzi, Gracciano, Le Coste, Poggiolo, San Donato, Talosa, and Voltaia.

on vacation...

2009-07-18T10:13:00.000-07:00

If you live in Italy, where do you go for vacation? The funniest answer, it seems, is California, which we try to do every December for 2 weeks.

However, even though the summer is our busiest season for Bed & Breakfast and cooking classes, I usually try to find a few days for my daughter and I to have ‘girl time.’ In the past we have taken trips to England, Barcellona, or Paris, or to one of the amusement parks in Italy, but this year we scaled back and had our trip closer to home.

Our first few days were camping. Well, maybe that’s exaggerating a bit, as we did stay in a campground, but in a bungalow with beds and a kitchen. Not exactly roughing it! And campgrounds in Europe are quite different from the US in that, besides the essential swimming pool, they have a lot of services such as a restaurant, night-time entertainment, and fresh pastries and cappuccino in the morning. Of course, there are spaces to bring your own tent, but for such a short stay, I was happy to just bring sheets and towels.
The campground was Barco Reale , the same name as one of my favorite wines from Tenuta di Capezzana, the estate where my friend Rolando Beramendi and I started the culinary workshops in 1992.

Part Two of our trip was at the seaside. I had the good fortune to have some credit with a small hotel chain for a translation I did. We ended up at the tiny Sette Archi hotel in Bocca di Magra, a small port at the end of the Magra River, just south of La Spezia. From our room, we looked over the docks and up to the marble quarries of Massa/Carrara… splendid views. From here we drove to the Sarzana train station and took the train to the Cinque Terre to visit friends for the day, so easy and so perfect.

But, the thing that pleased me most was the feeling of stepping back in time. This family-run hotel was full of mostly Italians, and all of us on mezzo pensione, which included dinner in their restaurant. In a few days you knew everyone, greeting them in the morning and saying good night after long evening walks along the waterfront. No WiFi, no public computer without a drive of at least 15 minutes. Imagine that! Forced vacation! We rode our bicycles, walked, swam, and read books.

Ironically, at the campground book exchange, I picked up the only English book on the shelf, one I had never read (some of you know my habit of adopting any stray books in English that I find): Dona Flor and Her Two Husbands. This book once belonged to Minni from Boulder, Colorado, and I thank her for leaving it behind. It opens with a letter from Dona Flor to the author of the book, and her comment about how she learned to cook by cooking: “Was it not by loving that I learned to love? Was it not by living that I learned to live?”

Let us cook, love, and live, then!

prosecco sorbettato

2009-07-10T06:46:00.000-07:00

Weather reports say it's going to stay hot for a few days. Cicadas agree. The summer has been a long time coming this year. Yesterday's peaches at the market and the heat inspired me to pull out my Gelato! book and put together my simple peach sorbet:
5 peaches, peeled and seeded, 2 cups of spring water, and 2/3 cup sugar, all puréed together in the blender. After I chilled the purée in the fridge for a bit, I put it in my ice cream maker, and allora! Refreshing just like this, but even better in a glass of Prosecco, reminiscent of the Bellini cocktails at Harry's Bar.

Gnocchi cravings

2009-07-08T11:02:00.000-07:00

Craving gnocchi. I started by boiling potatoes, the ones with eyes and toes because they are a little dryer. These potatoes, called Bolognese, are so sweet and seem to have just the right amount of starch for feather-light gnocchi. When I was in the states, I used russets, but now I'm thinking that next time I visit there, I will try a sweeter potato like a Yukon gold or the Finnish yellow.

I don't even bother to peel the potatoes; I just cut them in half and boil in salted water until tender, about 20 minutes for 3-inch chunks. A splash of cold water and the peel slips off pretty easy... then in the ricer,

add the egg and flour and knead lightly. I prefer simple gnocchi without the perforation of a grater or fork and just roll a piece out about 3/4-inch thick, then cut into 1-inch lengths.
For 1 kg (2.2 lbs) boiled and riced potatoes, I use 250 grams (9 oz) 00 flour, 1 egg, and a pinch of salt. Once cut, I dust them with flour and stick them in the freezer for a few minutes until I'm ready to cook them... not to freeze them, but to keep them from softening and swelling in the warm kitchen.

Originally I thought to make an aglione sauce with fresh tomatoes and garlic from the garden, but when I went out to pick, I realized we used up most of the ripe tomatoes in yesterday's gazpacho. There was an abundance of swiss chard, though, so this is what I came up with: I sautéed the julienned chard stems in olive oil with onion and a little pancetta. When they were soft, I added the julienned chard leaf and let that soften. A little broth, some mascarpone, and topped with sautéed bread crumbs and parmigiano...craving satisfied!

xOx (kiss on each cheek)

2009-07-04T00:38:00.000-07:00

I could spend every day right here at Poggio Etrusco. I don't really need to go anywhere. But, when I do get out, it does make me happy. Yesterday I had the 'opportunity' to drive to Pisa airport to pick up my cousin's daughter who is having a summer vacation here on the farm. As always, I did the 'Nora Jones thing,' which is to take the long road home...past glorious fields of sunflowers. Every signpost called to me: Bologna, Viareggio, Artimino. I need more hours in the day!

And, today, back to work! Trying to refine the Tuscan Scrub, an exfoliant/moisturizer using my organic olive oil leftover from last year, blended with Sicilian sea salt. My feet have never been silkier! Today I am picking lavendar to dry and infuse in the mixture to see how that works.

arrivederci means 'to see each other again'

2009-06-29T07:23:00.000-07:00

One of the hardest things about having guests stay at our farm is saying goodbye.

The first post of my first blog is dedicated to Hadass and Dan (and Naomi) who drove away today, off to Rome, and on their way back home to Tel Aviv. With their encouragement, I have finally taken the plunge into the world of blogging...

What will this be about? My Facebook experience (Poggio Etrusco and Pamela Sheldon Johns) has been lovely because it has been a two-way communication (and sometimes even multi-way) with people I know. But, I think that this will be different, more musing than schmoozing...
In any case, my idea is to share some of my life on this little farm of mine with you... and it starts with saying goodbye.

This is our ninth year hosting guests at our agriturismo. We have met so many wonderful people (and only one or two stinkers) from all parts of the world and all walks of life (including the joint chief of staff of the U.S. and the heir to the Playboy realm...not at the same time, by the way). The time we spend together is intimate. We are sharing our home, and our guests are on vacation, relaxed and open. But, we have discovered that as soon as we get attached, they leave. In the beginning, before internet communication had advanced to its current level, we sometimes never heard again from our visitors. Now, at least, we have a chance to stay in touch.

So this new blog of mine is intended to be an arrivederci, which literally translates to "we'll see each other again." I will keep you posted on what is going on here at Poggio Etrusco until we do see you again!