THE "LAST SUPPER"

THE "LAST SUPPER"

 

Our bags are packed and we're ready to go--well, almost!  The weather had recently turned cold and rainy, but Sunday, our last day, was filled with sunshine.    In the early afternoon we left the bags behind and headed out for one last stroll in the city we've come to love so much.  Off to the river for one last look at the "bouquenistes"; one last lick of pistache and amarena gelato; one last stroll across the bridges, past Notre Dame and a last peek at the Ile St. Louis.

 

When the sun shines, people crowd the streets, seeking out the sunny benches in the parks and in the outdoor cafes. I know France is facing a declining population but you would never guess it from the large number of children out for the day with their parents. We walked until we were tired then with bagette in hand, we headed home to make a meal of the leftovers of cheese, pate and various goodies left in our refridgerator.  Thankfully there was still a bottle of wine to help make the meal memorable. 

 

Going home is a bittersweet experience--for us there's always a longing to hurry back!

FedEx in Paris

 
Parisians love new technology and gadgets. They seem to compensate for the limitations of 16th, 17th and 18th century buildings and street with the most advanced technology available. You may have to walk up three flights of stairs to your 600 ft sq two bedroom apartment, but your deliveries will be made by an automated street crane that fits into a parking space and delivers through the window. We have grown used to seeing highly automated buses that tell you where you are and when you will arrive at each stop. They even announce the frequent "manifestations" (usually strikes) that disrupt service  Their street cleaners are a wonder of automation with multiple brushes and water sources.

 

So we were particularly surprised to see the new FedEx delivery vehicle - a bicycle similar to those used by pedicabs in NY. They're great, they fit in between two parked cars (without blocking the street) and don't use any gas (unless the driver has had an unfortunate lunch).

A "Spectacle" en Paris

COMPAGNIE RASPOSO--Un Cirque or 'un Spectacle' under a Tent!

 

Le Chant du Dindon (the song of the turkey!!)

 

In Paris you can often find 'un Espace Cirque' (a tent) in many neighbourhoods for many kinds of performance.  I try to scout out one or two during our visits; it's always hit or miss given that I really can't read the descriptions thoroughly enough.  Sometimes these events turn out to be a 'miss' like the time I dragged Paul, Jory and Scott to a 'horse show' not thinking that we would be in a small arena filled with dust and hay, aggravating Scott's allergies!  Not such a good pick!

 

This Sunday, however, was a different story.  We travelled out to the suburbs to a park where a small tent had been erected for a travelling "Spectacle". It was like going back in time--almost like a vaudeville performance.  The troupe (15 in all, 5 of which were from the same family) did EVERYTHING!  They were the actors, stage hands, writers and crowd control--in the two hour performance. Apart from a 20 min. intermission, EVERYONE worked all of the time.  If they weren't performing some amazing acrobatic feat, they were comedians or mimes or musicians providing the background music. In addition, acting as spotters, or changing the sets frequently engaging with the audience as they changed rigging or reset the ring for the next act.

 

This show had a little bit of everything including a live turkey (of the title), some magic doves and 4 dogs!  The performance followed a story line of sorts--a little like you would see in 'Cirque du Soliel'.  The performances were professional, entertaining and a hit with both the youngest and oldest members of the audience.  The venue, under a small tent, with unassigned bare plank seating--was ,intimate, but challenging for our backs and tooshes.  The first three rows, for the most part were reserved for the young children, the rest of us in stadium seating behind-- somewhat like being in the audience of a little league game!  The performers were often out in the audience, engaging with us, stepping over benches to adjust the sets or moving people back to make room for the next more 'energetic' tumbling displays.

 

As I said, the performance was fantastic--high wire acts, unbelievable contortions, magic and humour all rolled into a theme that kept us entranced; all for the affordable price of 24 Euros. 

 

 

Yom Kippur in Paris

Monday was a beautiful day in Paris. High 60's with bright sunshine.  We decided to spend the afternoon at Place des Vosges, and revisit the neighbourhood where we spent our first year in Paris in the Marais. The parks and streets were crowded with people, especially at Place des Vosges which seems to be a through fare for kids from a nearby school. Our bench in the sun afforded excellent people watching and was a good place to work on the day's crossword puzzle and people. 

Place des Vosges is near the traditional Jewish quarter. It looked like Jews from all over the city had come in to the traditional synagogues for Yom Kippur.  Women and children in their sabbath best along with husbands donning hats and yarmulkes. Their dress was distinctive - from heavy dark clothes and wigs to jeans and sandals.  The park soon began to fill with Jews of every sort on break from their synagogue. It seemed that there were multitudes!  Each group different; from the ultra-orthodox, to the merely orthodox to the highly observant to the barely observant. It must have been like this in the 19th Century.  It seemed a perfect day to gather on the grass and benches for a good gossip and to catch up with one another.   

Crossing the street together

Christina and I do not fight about a lot of issues. That's one of the nicest things about being past the young family days. We don't have a lot of irreconcilable differences about raising children or money. 

One issue that remains a bone of serious contention is crossing the street. Chris is from Canada and has no idea about how to efficiently cross the street. She is forever stopping when the light changes, even if there are no cars moving! Over the years she has become increasingly erratic, stopping and starting like a broken toy. She claims I have traumatized her by heedlessly rushing into oncoming traffic. She gives no credence to my extensive experience and superior instincts. She believes that intersections and traffic lights are sacred. I know they're just advisory. It's like being married to Rudi Guliani (who tried to prosecute jaywalkers).  As a result, we go through a little dance at every crossing. If I, or we, are ever killed crossing the street, you'll know why. Chris stopped us in the middle while trying to go back.

The problem is even worse in Paris because there are many more complex intersections with 5 and 6 roads coming together. In addition, Parisian drivers, especially the omnipresent scooters, motorcycles and bicycles, pay little attention to lights, sidewalks or pedestrians. So, you aren't safe anywhere! 

This could all turn out badly for me! Either I'll be killed crossing the street or Christina will leave me claiming emotional cruelty!  

Rebuttal:  In my own defense, I think this is really a "Venus vs Mars" issue with a little dash of stubbornness (Chris doesn't usually admit to being stubborn!) thrown in--AND it really has NOTHING to do with being from Canada!  You have to picture us -- Paul making a purposeful stride into oncoming traffic while I dig in my heels, and dry with all my might to hold him back!  It would leave you laughing!

Je Parle Beaucoup!

When we first started coming to Paris, I imagined myself speaking the language in no time.  Here we are in our 7th 'rentree' and I still struggle and throw in English or sometimes even German when I just can't think of the right thing to say.  Over the years I've enrolled in various kinds of group languages classes but this year, I'm working with a private tutor, three times a week, for 2 hours each morning.  My mornings with le prof. Isabelle are filled with lots of talk and laughter.  Her goal is to take the 'ugly American' sounds that come from my lips and fashion them into something that resembles the lilting tones of the French!  I sit facing her, looking into a mirror to get the shape of my mouth 'just so' all the while the tape recorder is running so that I can take my lesson home, listen and practise!  I never knew that there were so many different ways to contort my mouth, position my tongue and make sounds in different areas of my throat.  And, by the way, did you know that when Americans speak, our voice register goes from high to low???  Well, here in Paris, one must accentuate the last syllable and end on a high note!  After two hours with plenty of 'parlaying' we go over the vocabulary of the day and she sends me home with piles of homework!  I'm working harder at this then anything I've done in a long time and think I'm making SOME progress.  The proof will be 'in the pudding' when I meet up with my French friend Danielle, who has kindly invited me and another friend to coffee next week--just the girls so that I can practise my French.  Keep your fingers crossed for me.  I'll keep you posted.  

A la prochaine,

C!

Fete dans la rue!

Walking in Paris is always an adventure for us simply because the 'grid' system doesn't exist.  The idea of going around the block thinking that you'll end up on the street you started on gets us in trouble every time.  For a confirmed 'flaneur' (someone who strolls), like me, it can be a problem especially if there's somewhere we have to be.

However, sometimes like last night it leads to something quite wonderful.  Imagine coming upon a lively bunch sitting in front of a shop--in this case it was a custom hat shop--at a table decked with sushi, oysters and copious bottles of wine.  This was the scene which greeted us as we made our detour walking home from dinner at 10:30pm.  You know that this is what I think of as an 'opportunity'!  I just can't resist stopping, and so I asked, "qu'est-ce que c'est?"  Well, it turns out that it was a celebration with guests from Argentina, New York, and Paris and they were delighted to speak with us--we even got a taste of wine!  In the few short minutes we stopped, we discovered that a celebration on a warm night can spill into the street quite easily and strangers walking by can be made to feel welcome.  

Chez Dumonet

**

We haven't been writing much about our restaurant
experiences in New York, because we have been eating out less frequently and
enjoying the taste of homecooking more.

 

But, within a couple of days of arriving in Paris
we had a absolutely wonderful experience. We generally don't go to Michelin
starred restaurants in Paris, except for special occasions. A 3* restaurant can
easily run to $300 - $500 a person - before wine! Our palates are not that
discriminating, and a big part of the cost goes to providing flawless service.
 We prefer smaller, more intimate restaurants with excellent food. We use both
Michelin and Zagats (which has gotten much better in recent years) and local
publications to identify interesting sounding places.  Sometimes locals or other
travelers give us tips about a new or an unusual spot. 

 

This week we went a restaurant called Chez Dumonet on
Rue du Cherche Midi. It's a small, very informal restaurant established in the
1800's and by the look of the decor, nothing much has changed.  The same family
has been running the place lately for at least two generations.  Besides the
food, they've gotten service down pat and judging from the warm and familiar
greeting given to those walking through the front door, it's clear that this is
a neighbourhood place where people come back on a regular basis.  By the time we
were comfortably seated, a waiter came by splashing white wine into our glasses
and setting two yummy amuse bouches before us--a wonderful beginning!   Chris
started with a big pot of pickeled herring and lyonnaise potatoes. She was in
seventh heaven. I started with a country terrine. For the main course I had a
whole baby duck served roasted with a brown sauce. It was delivered atop a bed
of wilted fried cabbage that was outstanding. Chris had a pigeon millefeuille
that made us both wonder if there was an opportunity back in NYC where we seem
to have an abundance of pigeons right in front of our building!  The meal was
great and the envy of the table next to us who had played it safe with fillet of
beef and green salad!  We'd decided to pass on desert but it was not to be--out
came a large plate with a sampling of goodies that included all Chris's
favourites which we promptly consumed with coffee.  Not a crumb was left behind
as we left satisfied with a smile on our face. Who ever said that service was
only great in restaurants with star ratings! 

 

It was the kind of restaurant where everybody
was very friendly. We were sitting in the front near the bar and got a good
sense of the restaurant. People were still waiting to be seates when we left at
10:00. The chef came out to ask how we liked everthing and stayed to chat for a
few minutes. Overall, it's the kind of restaurant you hope to find in Paris, or
anywhere.

 

 

Postcard from Burgundy

A weekend in Cluny

Our annual trek to France began in Burgundy this year; primarily to visit Lyons and our friends Narissa and Tony in Cluny. What a delight! Not only did we thoroughly enjoy Lyons (the gastronomic capital of France according to the guidebooks), but our visit with friends just outside of Cluny was fortuitous given that there was a major weekend fete to celebrate the 1100 anniversery of the founding of the city! First off, let me tell you that Tony and Narissa live in a wonderfully renovated old farm house complete with a number of outbuildings, an outdoor shower and two cats--just to make us feel at home! They are both generous hosts and it's easy to see how they became captivated with the area. Above, you can see us eating breakfast infront of the old "piggery". Our visit coincided with Tony's birthday so the wine flowed generously and of course there were meals to match. The meal at a local chateaux was only outdone by the picnic the following day in the streets of Cluny. Picture this--12 gates to the city that reflect the historic role as a gateway. Each gate and the street leading from it was assigned a designated color; as were the towns adjacent to those gates. The people from those villages were asked to dress in that color and come to town for a picnic. Each street was decorated by the towns and tables for picnic lunches provided. We were the green gate, so we wore green and ivy leaf tiaras The tables were set, food and wine passed along the rows--people outdid themselves in local specialties and we ate and drank enough to last us through that and into the next day! How lucky for us to be welcomed by all their neighbours and friends. If only I hadn't tried to run over several people as we were leaving the village!

Notes from the edge of catastrophe

Many of you know that Christina likes to drive, and is usually quite capable. This trip has proven to be harrowing. Maybe it's the narrow, twisty roads or the crazy car and scooter drivers; or the unfamiliar manual transmission. Whatever, I have been seriously reconsidering the existence of God. We can't afford to be too careful. (Aside from the driver's seat:  I'll admit that I sometimes like to be 'in control' especially while driving, but....harrowing????  He is the cool one in our family, seldom ruffled so I must really have given him a scare!  But, I was the one sweating! 

 

The drive from Lyons to Cluny (to visit our friends Tony and Narissa) was uneventful-- with GPS, but beginning with Chris' attempt to roll over an entire family who were standing behind the car, we embarked on a journey to Paris long to be remembered. 

 

Our first stop was in the small village of Aloxe-Corton to spend the night at the lovely Hotel Villa Louisa attached to a small vineyard. Also uneventful, except for a small scratch (see picture) in the rental car. (Aside: the lane to the parking spot was several inches less then the width of the car.)

 

The next morning we left for Paris via Epoisse to buy the stinky cheese of the same name.  Little did we expect the forces of evil awaiting us at every turn! Unfortunately, Chris, coming from a small town in the US, is not used to city traffic; where any hesitation is pounced on by aggressive competitors; usually on motor scooters. (Aside:  Keep in mind that the roads are narrow, we have little gas and are looking for petrol stations  while the voice on the GPS mutilates names  beyond recognition. Is it any wonder I didn't know where to turn??)

 

Incredibly, we got to our apartment and managed to find a semi-legal spot in front of the building to unload luggage and groceries.  This uneventful arrival lulled us into complacency!  The last leg was not as easy.  The Hertz offices are actually in a parking garage attached to the Louvre. Having spent hours trying to find it two years ago, we were prepared. We "zipped" down Rue de Rivoli to the sign for the garage located at a major intersection with what seemed like 8 lanes of traffic heading towards us with a single lane on the left to enter the garage! (Aside:  I hope you've got the picture because to me it looked like I was turning into oncoming traffic!) We panicked and missed the turn.

 

This resulted in us circling around (think of circling around Times Square on a summer Saturday) to make another approach. This time  we zipped down into the garage; whew!  There's no Hertz! A workman in the garage told us:  "Ooh la la.... Hertz is up! not down!" No hope we could make a U-turn into all those lanes of traffic; we had to go around again! 

 

Despite the frequent need, U turns are not Chris' strong point. We sometimes travel miles to find a suitable place. Not possible this time so with eyes closed  (figuratively) she made the turn and we were successful. 

 

We walked home and don't plan to be driving over the next few weeks. Thank God! 

  

Postcards from Copenhagen

Postcard from Copenhagen

At first glance yesterday morning, we might have thought we were in Amsterdam; bicycles, canals, old world architecture and tall, Nordic looking people. Others would have attributed our first look to the fact that we were a wee bit jet lagged having had no more then an hour or two of shut-eye during our flight!



While there seem to be similarities, every city has it's own charm and Copenhagen certainly has plenty of that. Our short stay here can't possibly give us a true picture of what it's like to be a native and Chris especially laments not visiting the usual galleries, churches and castles in the area. Tivoli Gardens however was right across the street from our hotel and last night we wandered in for a look. You couldn't have gotten either of us on the crazy stomach churning rides, but the gardens themselves and the little cafes were charming. I slept through the entire performance of a dance troop, but was wide awake for the dinner at Groften resturant, the oldest spot in Tivoli. We try to pick things we wouldn't ordinarily eat and this was no exception. Paul's starter of seasonally appropriate white asparagus came with smoked duck breast and was delicious. This was followed by a more ordinary version of schnitzel. Christina, not to be outdone ordered herring salad which came with wonderful pumpernickle followed by a traditional dish called "Skipperlabskovs" (a cross between cornbeef hash and sheppards pie), looked a little mixed up but was tasty served with red beets and washed down with acquivat.



The streets are full of vendors selling more versions of hot dogs then we could eat in a month and where we have a Starbucks on every corner, here you find a "7 Eleven" complete with slushy bars inside! The thing we've enjoyed the most is the incredible variety of breads, rolls and pastry items at the morning breakfast table. Who knew there were so many varieties of pumpernickle! It's a good thing we're getting ont he ship tomorrow.

Esca in the theater distriict

Recently, we went to see the Manhattan Theater Club presentation of "The American Plan". It was really quite good. Beforehand, we enjoyed a pre-theater dinner at Esca on 43rd St and 9th Ave.  We were quite pleasantly surprised, especially since we were actually able to get a reservation on short notice. It may quite possibly be the best restaurant in the area.

 

I started with Moscardino, Grilled baby octopus with bitter greens and cipolline onions. It was just about perfect. The octopus was lightly grilled with the onions. I have octopus quite often and this was among the best. Chris was being responsible; choosing two starters a fresh, perfectly dressed 'salad mixt' and the Moscardino for a main course.

 

The house specialty, Branzino per Due,Whole Mediterranean sea bass for two cooked in a sea salt crust was sold out (at 6:00!)  so I had the special, home made Maccheroni with Razor Clams, Mussels and Little Neck and white beans. It was exceptional. Even the beans were perfect.

 

They have quite a nice wine list by the "quartino". Chris had a Valpolicella Ripasso “Semonte Alto”, (Venturini 2004) and I had a “Klin” Riserva, Primosic 2004, Friuli. Both were quite nice.

 

We were very pleased not only with the food, but also the decor.  Tables were generously spaced, the staff was knowledgable, friendly and made suggestions that we liked.  All in all, a fine dinner at a reasonable price, within easy walking distance of our theatre.

 

Esca Restaurant

402 West 43rd Street

212-564-7272

 

 

Rouge Tomate on East 61st

Rouge Tomate
10 East 60th Street
646-237-8977



We've been eating out less these days, but still keep a long list of places we'd like to try. The NYT "Dining In" and the resturant reviews in local magazines continue to intrigue us. Recently there was a write up about "Rouge Tomate". It sounded like a large new space (risky in this economy) but the menu looked interesting.


As with any favorably reviewed restaurant, it was hard to snag a reservation except 'early'in the evening. It's a large, 2 story, space with a bar and cafe on the first floor and a restaurant below. Interestingly, it's in the original location of the Copacabana night club. The room is modern and comfortable without being fussy and the kitchen is visible in the middle of the dining room. (see picture). There's a nice buzz - although we were there on Friday night and it wasn't full.



The menu is diverse, with interesting choices, and is determinedly 'locavore' with most items including a lengthy CV. Food prices are "reasonable" for the neighborhood but the wine list, in my view, was very pricey.



Chris has an odd attraction to brussel sprouts and ordered a

Salad of Brussels Sprout Leaves Market Pear, Berkshire Prosciutto, Balsamic, Halzenut


and I started with an excellent

Celery Root and Almond Panna Cotta Peekytoe Crab, Grapefruit,Tarragon, Citron Vinegar



Chris frequently orders rabbit when it's available. This was boned and rolled.

Farm Raised Rabbit Fleischnacke Chesnut Pasta, Market Apple, Celery Root, Tarragon--it was terrific!

My entre was Pasture Raised Guinea Hen Market Squash, Fall Spiced Seckle Pear, Chard, Honey Vinegar Jus


We drank a fine Chilean Cabernet and found our meal to be flavourful and satisfying.



We had french press coffee to finish the meal. We're sudenly seeing that everywhere. We really enjoy it prepared that way when we're in Paris and had resurrected our pots at home from early (first) married days.



We'll be back.

I feel proud

For the first time in a long while I feel proud - not because America elected it's first black President - although that's a good thing. It's because he respects ability and smarts and education. And because he's appointing people who are like that. The agenda seems to be to do the right thing without a social agenda. In a funny way, the economic crisis gives us a chance to rise above the partisan issues and focus on the big - shared - issues. I know it's still early, but I believe Obama is rising to the challenge with his appointments - talented, experienced people who inspire confidence here and in the rest of the world.

I'm a Republican. Not a "Reagan" Republican but a "Rockefeller" Republican. I believe in personal responsibility and personal liberty. But I also believe in shared responsibility, as an American, to help out where it's needed. I was thrilled in the 70's when the traditional liberal, special interest Democrats were swept out of office. Unfortunately, my whole voting life I seemed to be voting AGAINST something - liberals, actors, philanderers, christian conservatives.

Barack Obama was the first time in a long while that I voted for someone who I believed shared my goals and aspirations. John McCain was a huge disappointment to me. I know Obama will do things I disagree with, sometimes strongly. It would be impossible not to in this volatile time. But I believe he is truly trying to do the best for all without exploiting patisan divisions. He may not succeed, but at least he's trying. And the crisis may just be serious enough to give everyone a stake in his success. We all know it's time to do something about the Middle East, healthcare funding, the growing wealth gap and education - we just don't know what to do. But it's time we did something. At least we can move forward and learn from our mistakes. The economy will eventually improve and the war will end. These issues will remain.


Again, I feel proud. Not because Barack Obama is black but because he speaks intelligently and chooses smart, capable people to surround himself with.

Important information from our cruise

We've been on a wonderful cruise in Southern Italy and Sicily. We were with my sister and brother-in-law on a small sailing ship. Chris will write more about the great trip but I couldn't wait to share some important new information. Both Chris and I prefer the basic pizza called Margherita everywhere. I had always wondered why the name was used everywhere. I now have the answer! It was named after Queen Margherita of Italy. She visited Naples in the 19th century shortly after Italy was unified. The pizza was created in her honor using the three colors of the Italian flag, In an expression of solidarity we have had pizza almost every day since we learned about it.

Postcard from Florence

THIS IS JUST A SMALL SAMPLE OF THE TINY VEHICLES WE CAME ACROSS WHILE HERE. THEY'RE ALL ELECTRIC AND MOST ARE USED TO TRANSPORT LOCAL WORKERS AND EQUIPMENT--EVERYTHING FROM BRICKS TO MAIL!

TO MARKET, TO MARKET

In Florence there are two main markets that are open daily to supply the pantry's of the locals. Today, our last day, we visited the Mercato Centrale. It is a covered food market, packed with stalls offering fruit, vegetables, fish, cheese, bread and as you can see a variety of interesting meats. We were amazed there isn't any part of the pig that isn't on display in the various stalls. Want an ear or nose for your stew--no problem, even intestines were readily available, we weren't quite sure for what. Not once have we seen anything that resembles what we saw at the market in any restaurant. Well maybe there were unidentifiable bits in the sopressata that filled our sandwich one day, but aside from that, no trotters, snouts or ears have been visible on any plate that we've seen!

While in Florence we've eaten more pizza in three weeks then in all the years we've known each other! More pizza even then gelatto! Every Enoteca, lunch spot and wine bar features the pizza in all it forms. From a plain margherita to something piled high with salad, veggies and meat of all sorts. Our favourite, and most expensive, was one that featured pecorino cheese and wild boar salami. That with a glass of Chianti Classico and we're set for the day! How will we ever be satisfied with the product we buy from Whole Foods???

As we prepare to leave this city, we're filling up with a last bite of cheese, nibbling on the wonderful foccacia we turned up in a small neighbourhood shop and wondering what delights await us as we head further south. It's been a three week adventure. One filled with incredible art, tasty food and learning about a culture that has surprised us in new ways, gotten us into a couple of real "pasticcios" (big trouble) and made us smile as we watched the interactions of the locals (especially the men); connected with travelers from all over the world especially Canadians and delighted in the sounds of our local church bells to keep the rhythm of our days.

Drinks with the Contessa

Many of you have, I know, experienced Paul's right hook in relation to a glass of wine--especially red wine. If not, just let me say that his 'best shot' occurred across the table from a woman dressed in a white suit--need I say more! It's been a source of many jokes at his expense and it keeps me on my toes trying to anticipate where I should be sitting and how I can best intervene while he's telling stories when there's wine on the table!



Well, the day has finally come, when I will NEVER be able to mention his 'wine shots' again. Yesterday, was a day I'll not long forget and not just because the stock market went down ANOTHER 500 points. We were shopping at a local gourmet store finding goodies for dinner when we ran into our landlady, the Contessa. It was a bit of a walk back to the apartment, she had rather a heavy package, a cane and given how gracious she's been to us, Paul volunteered to carry her groceries back--we were afterall going the same way. Once home, she invited us in for a cocktail and who could resist--I was dying to see her space. This apatment has 15 foot ceilings, a kitchen with a cooking spit large enough to roast a pig and a sink the size of a small bathtub. It's filled with Renisannce art, furnished with antiques and the two dogs who immediately jumped into our laps just completed the picture. Things were going well until I went into the room where I had left our groceries to put something away. A bag slipped and crashed to the floor which was concrete covered in clay tiles. You can probably guess this doesn't have a good ending and that it involves quantities of red wine! Right! Not only did the bottle smash, but the glass splintered and it rolled out of the bag! THE ENTIRE BOTTLE spilled on a rug that looked and probably was hundreds of years old! I WANTED TO DIE! Could I possibly ignore it and just pretend it didn't happen???? Would anyone notice???? NOT! Not only was there a puddle on the rug that looked like someone had been shot and killed on the spot, but there were splashes on the antique chairs she had pointed out that came from France and had been in the family for decades. Well, I was horrified, what to do, how could I begin to appologize??? In the end after picking up shards, sponging the chair (all traces came out--thank gawd), the housekeeper and her daughter carried the rug into the laundry room to try to spot clean what they could. With assurances that "it's alright", "these things happen" and on and on, we went back into the family room for our glass of wine, but I have to say, I was NOT comfortable and could hardly wait to escape.

American students are the new Mexicans

One of the most surprising things we've noticed is all the American "students" we've met working at different places in Florence. I use the term "students" loosely since not all of them are studying in the classical sense. And I also use the word "American" loosely since just today, we met a young Canadian who was working at a bio cheese producing farm.



The first one we noticed was at a farmers market. The butcher's assistant was from NJ, here for two years to study Italian, pig farming and butchering. We've met quite a few others at food related sites and markets, a gelato stand a restaurant and some who work as local tour guides. Most are on student visas and are now "illegal aliens" in Italy.



There are probably as many 'creative' ways to stay in a country as there are people seeking adventure. Where once, parents and/or their offspring spent hard earned cash to escape abroad and experience the Big 3 - wine, women and song, now there seem to be endless possibilities. These kids are working on farms! I assume they still find time for the big 3. One of the kids told us they were WWOOF -ing it - Willing Workers in Organic Farming. I kid you not. Check out their website. They're a global organization and provide inexpensive ways to 'work ones way' across many different countries. Who knows, we just might be tempted to come back to Italy in November -- we'll be just in time for the olive harvest!

A real "fiasco"

A REAL FIASCO

Welcome to the 900 year old Castello Trebbio, the former home of the Pazzi family in the Chianti region. This Castle has a famous and bloody history given that it was the place where the Pazzis tried to do away with the Medicis! The plot involved the Pope, the bishop of Pisa and the local church, but it was not to be. In the end, the entire Pazzi family along with the bishop were either tossed from the windows of the church or hung from the walls by their neck. Only one Pazzi family member, who was married to the sister ofthe Medici prince was allowed to live. Today, the castle houses a young family with two passions: wine making and pressing quality olive oil.

Our visit included tasting some interesting local wines, including a super-Tuscan called Pezzano and an interesting dessert wine called Vin Santo. Here, instead of dipping biscotti in coffee or tea, they dip it into the sweet wine--not a bad idea! This was also where we were surprised to learn of the origin of the word 'fiasco'. It seems that before there was any regulation for wine in the region, farmers blended whatever they had pressed, with whatever was available cheaply and bottled it in a straw covered bottle called the "Fiasco". If you're of the same vintage as us, you might have some fond memories of these straw bottles covered with wax drippings from many burning candles while sitting around listening to Jimmy Hendrix or the Stones. Boy, things sure have changed! The wine is better, not sure about the music.

Here the olive oil is still picked and pressed by hand and stored in large clay pots. Clay pots are now outlawed for mass production, but small boutique producers are still able to use the old methods. The 'extra virgin', first pressing is delicious. We've been amazed at how much olive oil is used here. The average Italian uses a liter a month. It's placed on the table with all food, drizzled on bread, pizza, soup and even some desserts. We've become even greater fans of this golden oil.

We've tasted many varieties, enjoying most; even one special reserve from the "Verrazano" cellars.