Gane una semana en La Toscana
Cerrado
A Flowered Apron in Tuscany
A photo collage hangs in my den reminiscent of the joys my husband Pete and I experienced in Tuscany. Stopping to readjust the frame, I smile fondly at the image of me and Pete ready to enjoy bruschetta and Chianti from a stem-less glass, which we learned is practical and casual for every day wine drinking. We were still wearing our aprons, mine a full length red bib and Pete’s a little flowered number, since we had just finished rolling out ravioli at Lisa’s Mugello farmhouse, part of an afternoon we spent on our 2003 tour through Tuscany. But my very favorite photo is of Pete proudly standing by the farmhouse sink in his cute pink and blue flower print apron. Pete wasn’t a chauvinist but he was traditional. Believe me, I had never seen him put on an apron. Actually I had never really seen him cook except to make pancakes every now and again. Even now, years later, when I glance at that photo, it just warms my heart that Pete was man enough to wear that dainty apron and was such a good sport to indulge in my dreams of Tuscany.
Considerably older than I, Pete’s idea of foreign travel was from a big tour bus, experiencing the cityscape and countryside via a window seat while being transported in air-conditioned comfort. I talked him into going on a small group, walking-cooking tour through Tuscany. Stopping on foot to view the Cyprus clad countryside, eating prosciutto, tasting pecorino cut from a huge wheel, learning how olive oil is made, climbing up the narrow twisted corridor to the top of Florence’s Duomo, cooking in the homes of locals – these were my ideas of experiencing Tuscany.
On one special day, our small group arrived in Siena ready to prepare lunch together at the private home of a classy, but casually dressed, woman named Connie. Her apartment sat right off the town square where the Palio di Siena is held twice a year. Connie, who apparently was of royal blood, regally poured each of us a glass of Chianti Classico and graciously welcomed our group into her home. The small kitchen was compactly organized with utensils clustered in a Deruta vase. Pots and pans hung over the built-in stove. A rustic credenza partitioned the kitchen from the dining room and was set up for our buffet with white earthenware plates, festive flower printed cloth napkins and flatware tucked in a jar. Fresh daisies and ferns graced a well-worn glazed terracotta urn. It was exactly as I pictured life in Tuscany.
While sipping wine, several of us ventured into the kitchen to start on the appetizer - crostini with garbanzo beans. Connie donned a chef’s apron patterned with faded grapes and vines. She handed us used but bleached clean chef aprons. Pete, who had never picked up a serrated kitchen knife in his life, volunteered to slice the bread and toast it in the oven. I meanwhile heated the pureed garbanzo beans, seasoning them with salt, pepper, olive oil and minced garlic. The mixture was spread on the toasts, drizzled with olive oil, garnished with chopped rosemary, plated and served as a welcomed and delicious first dish. A tomato soup with softened stale bread seasoned with garlic and fresh basil followed the appetizer. Relaxed conversation, more wine, lots of laughter and getting to know each other while preparing and sharing the rest of the meal made for an incredibly excellent and memorable afternoon.
Our trip to Tuscany was educational, enriching and magical and for the months that followed, Pete and I often lovingly reminisced about our many treasured experiences and adventures. Life can change in the blink of an eye, but the memories of a remarkable trip last forever. Barely one year later, my husband of eight years would be dead of a massive heart attack, dying just minutes after we toasted to a glass of Montepulciano at our favorite, local Italian bistro.
It puts a smile on my face whenever I glance up at that photo, in the framed collage, of Pete sporting that cute flowered apron. I can’t wait to go back to Tuscany and share the photo with Lisa at her farmhouse in Mugello where I am sure she is still living la vita bella.
