August 4, 2019

I couldn’t stay away from Italy for very long.

I got home on April 14th after a three-month sojourn at the Italian Culinary Institute in Stalettì, Calabria.  On July 31st I was on a plane heading back to Italy.  [You can read about my time at the Italian Culinary Institute in Calabria starting HERE.]

I met up with my aunt (by marriage), Zia Ida, at the airport in Rome.  We flew from there to Pisa.  After a brief stop at the automobile rental counter I was motoring us in a Fiat 500, with a quirky automatic transmission, towards the town of Bagni di Lucca, north of Lucca.  The apartment I rented is right in the center of town, overlooking the piazza on Viale Umberto I, the main street of Bagni di Lucca.

I met Elsa and her husband, from whom I rented the apartment, got a brief introduction to the apartment and was handed the keys.  After lugging my bags up a flight of stairs, Zia Ida and I were on a two-way road barely wider than a (small) car in some places to the village of Benabbio, about five kilometers from Bagni di Lucca up the side of a mountain.

The road to Benabbio is a place for faith or fatalism depending on one’s outlook.  It has scores of switchbacks and blind cures around which Italian drivers propel themselves at great speed with no apparent regard for the distinct probability that one is likely to encounter another driver coming the opposite way while occupying the center of the roadway just as is the first driver.

Beyond the piazza of Benabbio is a stretch of road that I call the gauntlet.  As it twists and turns up the mountain, it is hemmed in on both sides by stone buildings so close together that a full-size American car would not fit through.  This stretch of road is also two-way with the obvious reality that if one were to meet a car coming in the opposite direction, someone would have to back up on an incline turning curves between menacing buildings.

The whole reason for this trek, which I will likely make twice a day on average, is Zia Fidalma.  Zia Fidalma is Zia Ida’s aunt and my Great Aunt (prozia, in Italian).  She’s a wonderful cook and I’m here to learn Tuscan home cooking from her.  Sure, I could try to learn it from books (and I likely will continue to expand my knowledge that way after leaving) but there’s no substitute for cooking and tasting a cuisine on its home turf.

We had a late lunch at Zia Fidalma’s that consisted of “La Zuppa” (vegetable soup), Zucchini Ripieni (stuffed zucchini), Pane Integrale (whole-grain rustic bread) and Torta di Frutta (cake topped with raspberries, pears, and pineapple).  Everything was homemade except the bread which was baked locally.

In the late afternoon I headed back down the mountain to Bagni di Lucca intent on staying awake till at least 9 PM.  I managed this by unpacking, organizing the apartment, and doing some basic grocery shopping.  Feeling too tired to safely drive up the mountain for dinner, I made a really nice toasted panino with provisions from the market:  piadina (a flat bread from Emilia Romagna) and three Calabrian delicacies, schiachatta (a spicy salame) caciotto (a soft cheese) and peperoncino sott’olio (hot peppers packed in oil), which I ate on the terrace overlooking the piazza of Bagni di Lucca.  Why this little market in Bagni di Lucca had foods from Calabria I can’t imagine but I’ll gratefully accept the fact without question!

After a good night’s sleep, I motored back up the mountain to Zia Fidalma’s where I met her and Zia Ida in the garden harvesting vegetables.

We promptly set about cooking.

First up was Sformato di Zucchini, made with zucchini, zucchini flowers, and herbs from the garden, plus besciamella, Grana Padana and eggs.  There’s no precise translation for sformato.  It’s sort of a crustless savory tart that’s not anywhere near as “eggy” as a quiche.  Though the word is sometimes translated as quiche or flan, neither really fits.  If not calling it sformato, I prefer to just refer to it as a casserole which is not as constraining a term as quiche.

While the sformato baked, we made Arrosto di Maiale al Latte (pork roast cooked in milk).  We also started Pomarola, a simple sauce of fresh tomatoes (from the garden), garlic, and basil (also from the garden) simmered together and passed through a food mill.  Butter or olive oil is added afterwards.

Lunch was simple but delicious.  We had vegetable soup (from the day before but pureed) topped with Grana Padana cheese and accompanied by bread, and a salad of arugula and radicchio from the garden.

At dinner we had the sformato, pork roast, tomato salad (from the garden) and bread.  Torta di Frutta made another appearance, too!  The pomarola is in the fridge waiting to sauce something or other in the coming days.

With a full belly, and not too much wine, I headed down the luge-ride of a mountain road to my apartment.  Apparently, Friday night is karaoke night.  Karaoke night happens in the piazza…remember the piazza…the one that my terrace overlooks?

Karaoke turns into a dance party which causes the walls to vibrate and the strobe lights to flash through the wooden shutters.  It ends just before 1 AM after which time sleep is possible.  But not too much sleep, as you’ll discover next time!