Today was spent puttering around San Gimignano while getting over the jet lag. Today was market day. I had been warned to get there early but I could think of better things to do than get up at the crack of dawn while I'm on holiday. However, turns out "early" in the Tuscan countryside means around 9am, unlike the 7am definition for the Preston Markets back home. This is such a civilised country.
I was all set to shop. Unfortunately, just because the weather is forecast to be in the low 30s all week it is still officially autumn. All the clothing stalls were stocked with winter wear. Moreover, if the stuff they were showing is a good indication of the colours that will be "in" next winter, then it is going to be a very bland season.
To cheer myself up I had my first gelati for the day. It was at the Gelateria di Piazza which sells "world famous home-made gelato". I know it is world famous because it says so in the ad on my free city map, in the guide books, by the tour guides and signs saying so are plastered all over the shop windows. As a fairly obvious consequence the gelato was fairly ordinary. I had the saffron cream with pine nuts and raspberry flavoured with rosemary. In summary, saffron (when used in such sparing quantities) is a very subtle flavour while rosemary is anything but. Serves me right.
Puttered around the town, marvelling at the other tourists marvelling at the sights. One American was just so amazed at the sight of a very modern ATM embedded in the wall of a very medieval building they had to take a photo. In a way it is a shame that I don't find the juxtaposition of the very old with the very new so startling. They certainly were getting a real kick out of it.
I climbed to the top of the Torro Grossa ("Great Tower") to look out over the countryside I'll be tramping over tomorrow. The last section up to the top of the tower was an almost vertical ladder. A slightly tricky climb when wearing an ankle length skirt and sandals with an elegant hint of heel. Still, I managed it safely if not decorously. What does it matter since no-one here knows me.
Lunched at a highly recommended but tiny trattoria (Trattoria Chiribiri). This recommendation was from a trusted source and was well deserved. It is tucked into the cellar of some larger building. It seats a grand total of 22 people, provided you aren't too fussed about having strangers in your personal space. Life sized photos of the street outside were on two of the walls in an attempt to make it slightly less claustrophobic. I'm not sure it succeeded.
On the plus side, here the food was worth the hype. I started with a plate of "typical Tuscan" antipasto which here meant slices of 3 sorts of meats (proscuitto, salami and capocollo) , 3 small pieces of bruschetta topped with olive oil & garlic, tomato and basil, and liver. There was also a small dish of finely chopped something that tasted rich and faintly meaty. Could have been fresh porcini mushrooms or possibly some sort of offal. I chose not to ask but just enjoyed the taste. I followed this with lasagnette (broad flat ribbons of pasta) with a wild boar sauce. The pasta was homemade as it had the odd funny strip from the edge of the sheet, just like mine. Unlike mine, it had been made by someone who knew what they were doing so it was very light. Still, I tottered out of there comfortably full (it had nothing to do with the 1/4 litre of house red that I drank I'll have you know).
For dinner I had booked a table at the Ristorante Dorando, a member of the Slow Food Movement. I had meant to have the 6 course tasting menu but I just couldn't find the room, so I settled for a mere 3 courses (with wine). The restaurant was definitely upmarket but the waiters were not at all snooty. Instead, they were pleasantly flirtatious which seems to be a requirement for Italian waiters. Did I mention I find this country very civilised?
For background music they had an Italian tenor singing light classics. That is, they were songs that even I recognised such as Nessun Dorma. I even recognised a couple that I'm sure I had heard Dean Martin sing. Philistine that I am, I think Dean Martin did them better.
In proper style, I was given a small tasting plate as an amuse bouche. It contained a tiny pyramid of super fresh ricotta, a single perfect super tasty cherry tomato, an (elegant) splodge of a roasted capsicum dip and a leaf of some sort of herb. I was taking surreptitious notes about what I was eating. However, when the couple at the table next to me got their tasting plate the woman just whipped out a camera and took a photo. Must remember my camera for next time.
My official starter was pappa al pomodoro, which the English version of the menu translated as tomato soup. This is a loose translation as it turns out it is chopped up tomatoes with chopped up bread all moistened with "good olive oil". It was served in a "bowl" made out of a crisp basil-flecked pastry case. Trendy low-carb diets are never catching on here.
Main was pork fillet (a local speciality as befits the Slow Food movement) with a nicely tart apple sauce with a spoonful of what in France would be called ratatouille and a spoonful of white beans in a tomato and rosemary sauce. Rosemary is also big here. All very tasty, except sadly the main event as the pork was a bit dry and bit bland.
Dessert was a wonderfully light, fluffy and tangy lemon mousse with candied fruits (lemon, lime, orange and pear). See Mum, no need to worry, I am eating plenty of fruit and veg. Thank goodness the dessert stomach is separate to the main one so I could fit it all in. There was no way I could have managed the tasting menu as all the serves in that were full sized! Perhaps if I had fasted for a day or two beforehand. The couple next to me (with the camera) were making a game attempt but were visibly slowing by the 4th course.
Finally, back to the hotel and to bed. One thing about jet lag, is that it makes the simple act of lying down and closing your eyes and going to sleep just feel so sinfully good.
Below is a photo of the view outside my bedroom window as the sun is rising. Don't you wish you were in Tuscany too?
For dinner I had booked a table at the Ristorante Dorando, a member of the Slow Food Movement. I had meant to have the 6 course tasting menu but I just couldn't find the room, so I settled for a mere 3 courses (with wine). The restaurant was definitely upmarket but the waiters were not at all snooty. Instead, they were pleasantly flirtatious which seems to be a requirement for Italian waiters. Did I mention I find this country very civilised?
For background music they had an Italian tenor singing light classics. That is, they were songs that even I recognised such as Nessun Dorma. I even recognised a couple that I'm sure I had heard Dean Martin sing. Philistine that I am, I think Dean Martin did them better.
In proper style, I was given a small tasting plate as an amuse bouche. It contained a tiny pyramid of super fresh ricotta, a single perfect super tasty cherry tomato, an (elegant) splodge of a roasted capsicum dip and a leaf of some sort of herb. I was taking surreptitious notes about what I was eating. However, when the couple at the table next to me got their tasting plate the woman just whipped out a camera and took a photo. Must remember my camera for next time.
My official starter was pappa al pomodoro, which the English version of the menu translated as tomato soup. This is a loose translation as it turns out it is chopped up tomatoes with chopped up bread all moistened with "good olive oil". It was served in a "bowl" made out of a crisp basil-flecked pastry case. Trendy low-carb diets are never catching on here.
Main was pork fillet (a local speciality as befits the Slow Food movement) with a nicely tart apple sauce with a spoonful of what in France would be called ratatouille and a spoonful of white beans in a tomato and rosemary sauce. Rosemary is also big here. All very tasty, except sadly the main event as the pork was a bit dry and bit bland.
Dessert was a wonderfully light, fluffy and tangy lemon mousse with candied fruits (lemon, lime, orange and pear). See Mum, no need to worry, I am eating plenty of fruit and veg. Thank goodness the dessert stomach is separate to the main one so I could fit it all in. There was no way I could have managed the tasting menu as all the serves in that were full sized! Perhaps if I had fasted for a day or two beforehand. The couple next to me (with the camera) were making a game attempt but were visibly slowing by the 4th course.
Finally, back to the hotel and to bed. One thing about jet lag, is that it makes the simple act of lying down and closing your eyes and going to sleep just feel so sinfully good.
Below is a photo of the view outside my bedroom window as the sun is rising. Don't you wish you were in Tuscany too?
Sounds too marvellous for words!
ReplyDeleteWish I was there!
Mary