View from Our Olivetto

From our little olive grove on a steep hillside in Umbria. you can see the Sibillini, a section of the Apennine mountain range, that runs north from the eastern-most section of Umbria into the rugged Le Marche region. I love to walk in the olive grove when the evening sun paints the hillsides golden – all the way to the distant Sibillini.

This year, for the first time, our olivetto, olive grove, offered even more than a fabulous view. This year it produced olives, which we just harvested. Well, actually not we, it was me. Luigi, away on a working trip, was unable to participate.

Lucky Luigi. I discovered that olive harvesting is not for the faint of heart. (It made our recent grape harvest seem like a walk in the park.) After 2 days of raking olives from the trees into a rete, netting, (and pruning branches) my muscles were screaming. The netting, at 8 meters by 8 meters, is very heavy, so just setting up to rake the olives is a chore.

Anna Maria, our next-door neighbor, fed me pizza roll ups through the fence and cheered me on to the finish, and this morning I successfully transported four, almost full, bins of olives to the Il Vecchio Frantoio, The Old Olive Press.

The Old Olive Press, called this because it is, indeed, the old olive press, is owned and operated by Riccardo Prudenzi. The men in family Prudenzi, whose names all begin with “r” – Riccardo, Roberto, Renaldo – have been operating the old olive press for 140 years. Riccardo shares his name with his great-grandfather.

Some of the workers at Il Vecchio Franoio are old too, having been there since before the olive press was modernized. Years ago the olives were crushed by an enormous grinding stone, operated by oxen that walked in a continuous circle. (In fact, one man has only one arm. The other arm was taken off in an accident with the pre-mechanized press!)

Today’s franoio is clean, modern and efficient, and Riccardo heads the production of a high quality, organic Umbrian olive oil.

Our four bins of olives weighed in at 66 kilos, which (although fabulous for us!) is not enough to be pressed as a separate batch of oil. Riccardo kindly added our olives to his own which he will press tomorrow morning.

So, my shopping list for tomorrow includes one-liter cans from the hardware store (probably 8, maybe 10, into which freshly pressed olive oil can be poured) and a good crusty, Umbrian bread.

And tomorrow night? I’ll be eating bruschetta with just-pressed olive oil - fireside, of course.

Il Vecchio Frantoio

Artist and author, Diane Cardaci, knows, and she’s sharing who, what and where in her new Mystery Artists Series. I was fortunate (and thrilled!) to help Diane film the segments for her series, which meant traveling to towns throughout Tuscany and Umbria. We also had to make frequently stops for cappuccino, bruschetta and/or gelato. Tough work, but someone had to do it.

And the star of the show? No, it’s not Diane. In her debut as an Italian film star, the real show stopper is the one and only, Popcorn. So, are you ready to meet Popcorn and the first mystery artist? CLICK HERE to sign up on Diane’s website! You’re going to love this series!

grape inspection

After the clusters of grapes were snipped off the vine, they were placed in large, plastic baskets or buckets with handles. When the buckets were full, the pickers (like me, Vittoria and her 85 year old brother) lifted these (very heavy) buckets to men standing behind one of two tractors that I started to refer to as the “grape mobiles”. These men, in turn, transferred the grapes into larger bins that sat on metal trailer behind the tractor. When the large tractor bins were nearly spilling over, the tractor diver transported them up, up, up the hill. But to where?

Luigi at the cantina

At lunch, Luigi spilled the beans. He explained that when one of the grape mobiles reached the road at the top of the hill, he, Babo and Riccardo were waiting to load the bins into Babo’s large, panel truck. (The same truck in which Babo transports antique furniture.) The three grape-musketeers would then drive the panel truck through the village, past the castle and down the road by the pizzeria to Babo and Mamma di Rossana’s farmhouse and cantina. At the door to the cantina (that lies beneath the house), they would unload the bins and dump the grapes, bucketful by bucketful, into a crushing machine that would, in turn, pass the crushed grapes into large, concrete vats.

The three ragazzi would then get back into the truck and drive up the road by the pizzeria, by the castle, through the village and back to the vineyard. Load, unload, repeat. Sometimes they would stop and grab an espresso. They also had to sample last year’s vino down at the cantina – several times.

uva bianca - white grapes

Back in the vineyard, we finished picking our last row of grapes at 5:00pm. Both tractor drivers waved, shouted, “ciao, ciao!” and drove their grape mobiles off into the distance. The rest of us struggled back up that hill, one more time, (I swear it kept getting steeper) where we got into our respective vehicles and drove to join Luigi, Babo and Riccardo down at the farm.

As the sun started to dip behind Mount Cetona, all of us gathered in the small vineyard by the farm (yes, another vineyard!) where we picked through the last of the vines in nothing flat. A few of the men loaded these bins of grapes into Nino’s Ape and he drove around back to the cantina. Everyone scurried to dump the final grapes into the crusher before it got dark.

chatting and eating

Inside the cantina (that is so old, that no one knows how old it is), Mamma explained to me that the crushed grapes will ferment in the vats until Monday (6 days), at which time the mix will be pressed to remove the skins and stems from the liquid. This new wine will then be transferred to clean holding tanks, where it will remain until Christmas. One more transfer to clean tanks will take place during the holidays (to remove sediment that has accumulated at the bottom), and after a few more months of aging, the wine will be ready for drinking at Easter.

me and Mamma di Rossana

We all gathered outside the cantina and Mamma di Rossana served up a snack of left-over panini, cheese and panetone – plus a couple jugs of wine, of course. “Siete stanchi?” Mamma looked at Lou and I with a little pity in her eyes when she asked if we were tired. Of course we said, “no”. What a great, big lie! We were both ready to drop.

We finished our snacks as the evening air grew chilly, and the vendemmia crew, one by one, started to leave. I went inside the cantina one last time with Babo to look at the grapes already fermenting in the vats. He gave me a big hug and a smile. Torni lunedi, no? he asked. I was a bit confused. Why would I return on Monday? “C’e’ un pranzo proprio” (a real lunch) he said. “You and Lou must be here to barbecue and celebrate the vendemmia!”

So it looks like we’re headed back to the farm on Monday. I wonder what we’ll be eating? Of course, I already know what we’ll be drinking. Cin, cin.

pranzo and vino

Mamma di Rossana and her friend, Antonella, lifted an empty wooden pallet onto the back of Nino’s Ape – a kind of miniature truck that can be seen throughout the countryside of Italy – and covered it with a fresh, cotton table cloth. This was our lunch table.

Three kinds of panini appeared, made of crusty bread filled with salami, mortadella or copa. A large, half-round of aged pecorino, sheep’s milk cheese, sat on a wooden cutting board next to the sandwiches. Mamma di Rossana had made a cheese-bread filled with spicy sausage, and Anotella had baked a panetone – a type of cake-bread with almonds – that was still warm in the center. There were no vegetables or fruits, just a simple, protein-rich lunch for hungry grape pickers, and everything was delicious!

Babo, Riccardo and Luigi

Oh, and the beverage served with lunch? Vino, naturally. Lots and lots of vino. While Luigi and I re-hydrated with water, the rest of the group (including Vittoria and her brother) went for the wine. Well, actually I did see one other person drink water. After he drank four cups full of wine, he diluted his fifth with water. That counts, right?

There was chatting and laughing all through lunch, then Maurizio mentioned something about rain in the forecast (I’m not sure that was true), and someone else shouted, “Allora, andiamo!” and everyone headed back to the vineyard to finish picking the second half.

Everyone, that is, but Babo (Daddy) di Rossana, his grandson, Riccardo and Luigi. They disappeared, driving off in Babo’s panel truck, and in La Vendemmia: Part 3 we’ll tag along to find out what they were up to …

pranzo on the Ape

Those are the words that come to mind when I reflect on yesterday’s vendemmia, grape harvest. When Lou (Luigi, that is) and I were invited to take part in our friends’ vedemmia, we jumped at the chance. I’ve taken tours through many vineyards here in Italy – large, commercial ones and small, personal ones – but this was our first opportunity to be a part of the grape harvest as workers. And work, we did!

the grape mobile

Here in Umbria, the harvesting of grapes has taken place for thousands – yes,  thousands – of years and yesterday’s experience proved what I had only suspected before. Aside from a few pieces of modern machinery, the vendemmia hasn’t changed much over the centuries. Yesterday I was struck with the basic beauty of that.

a beautiful, steep vineyard

Friends, family and a few workers (working for their share of vino) climbed up and down the steep hill, in between the long rows, snipping clusters of grapes while chatting and laughing. I heard stories, told in thick, Fabrese dialect, about well drilling, cingiale (wild boar) hunting  and 2 mice that were found in someone’s truck. Whether they were the black or dark brown variety is still being debated.

Sometimes the voices fell silent, and all you could hear was the snipping of plant scissors and the soft plops of grape bunches as they fell into buckets. The temperature was ideal – in the high 60s – and the sun shone brightly for most of the day.

Vittoria and the gatti

There were 14 of us in all, and I was the youngest at 48 years old. My picking partner, for much of the day, Vittoria, is 84. Her brother, also picking grapes, is 85. When my muscles grew sore (about mid-morning!) and my stomach starting growling, I looked to Vittoria and her brother for inspiration. How could people  their age manage up and down that steep (really steep!) hill, let alone lift bucket after bucket filled with grapes? Those buckets are heavy, let me tell you!

So I continued my snipping and lifting without complaint, and instead let my mind wander to the Etruscans and Romans and medieval workers who probably harvested grapes on that very same hill, in centuries past. The view of the ancient village of Fabro was spectacular, the grapes were delicious (you get to eat as many as you want while picking) and the company – well, they were the best.

When the church bells from the village rang 12 times, Mamma di Rossana (we call her that, because she’s Rossana’s mother) said it was time to climb up the hill for pranzo, lunch. Even Vittoria and her brother were ready for the break.

And pranzo?  Well, that story shall be told in La Vendemmia: Part Two …

Bella Umbria

Early this summer, soon after my arrival at our home in Umbria, I came down with a terrible bout of stomach flu. Probably something I’d picked up on the flight over, it really threw me for a loop. I was alone (my husband hadn’t yet arrived) and within 12 hours I had become so weak I could barely sit up.

This is when Anna Maria, my next door neighbor, decided to give me a call. “Tutto bene?” she asked. “Perchè la tua porta è chiuso ancora?” Is everything ok? Why is your door closed? (Italians often un-shutter doors and windows when they start their day.) I explained that I wasn’t feeling well, and would be staying inside today. (I left out the part that I felt like I was going to die.) “Madonna mia! Arrivo!” she declared. What? She’s not coming over now! I thought. Yes, she was.

A big hug and several Madonna mia‘s later, Anna Maria scurried back to her house to make what she insisted would be my cure. When she returned an hour or so later with a special zuppa, soup, that would save me, I must admit I was skeptical. Plus, I was still reeling at the mere thought of food or beverage. But I followed her instructions to try a few spoonfuls before nightfall, and to sip, sip, sip at the tea.

I ate Anna Maria’s soup that evening, and I continued to eat it for two solid days. Her simple zuppa, filled with tiny, salty pasta stars, tasted better than any meal I’d ever had in my life. She was right! Those little pasta stars were my cure!

Or maybe it was the generous dose of love she’d simmered them in.

Anna Maria’s Food-is-Love Zuppa

• Tiny pasta stars, boiled in salted water
• 1 cup chicken broth (preferably home-made)
• 1-2 T tomato paste
• fresh parsley, chopped
• 1-2 T extra virgin olive oil

Mix the cooked stars with chicken broth and tomato paste, and simmer for several minutes. Add more broth if soup is too thick. Add fresh parsley and olive oil, plus a little salt, if necessary. Serve with love.

It was still quite warm when we returned home, and both Anna Maria and I headed to our respective back terraces to clean and prepare carciofi (artichokes) from our respective gardens for our respective dinners. One of my favorite things in the world is sitting on the terrace cleaning artichokes on a summer evening. Somehow this simple task, that would annoy me under different circumstances, becomes a joy. Sheep bells in the background, sun golden on the olive groves and thoughts of the Etruscans who walked this land 3,000 years ago. It’s carciofi meditation, and I highly recommend it.

Anna Maria is a master at artichoke recipes. Here is one of her favorite ways to prepare carciofi:

• Clean and de-fur small, fresh artichokes (the fresher the better) and cut into thin slices
• Clean, peel several small potatoes (one for one with the artichokes) and cut into thin slices
• Now you’ll need a good olive oil, fresh mint leaves, salt and parmiggiano cheese, grated
• Alternate layers of artichoke and potatoes in a small, baking pan, adding a little olive oil, salt (just a bit), mint and parmiggiano to each layer
• Bake at about 350 degrees until the potatoes and artichokes are fork tender

Cooking, Tuscan-style, is second nature to Angela – kind of like breathing – and virtually the only way to learn one of her recipes is to watch her making it. Measurements? Are you kidding? Yet with her expert, relaxed manner, she can turn a basket of tomatoes, a heavy pour of olive oil and a handful of spices into a party for the taste buds. Incredible.

Here’s one of Angela’s favorite sauces … and be sure to serve it the classic Tuscany way, over penne pasta.

Sauce dell’Aglione with Penne (Also know as pasta l’arrabiata, “angry pasta”  because it’s a spicy dish!)

• 4 T Extra virgin olive oil
• 4 Garlic cloves
• 2-4 Pepperoncini (small hot peppers)
• 1 lb fresh, sweet, cherry tomatoes
• 1 glass (or so) red wine
• Salt to taste
• parmigiano reggiano, grated

Heat olive oil in pan. Add garlic and begin to simmer. Add tomatoes, pepperoncini, wine and salt. Leave to simmer for about 10 minutes, stirring occasionally, until tomatoes begin to burst and reduce. When sauce is slightly thickened, add cooked penne pasta and heat for a few more minutes. Serve hot with grated parmigiano and a drizzle of olive oil.