Our First Day in Tuscany

We hesitated at the bottom of a long, steep hill. Romantic stone doorways and clay pots lush with flowers beckoned, but it was a very long hill, flagged with cobblestones. Our companions insisted that an excellent wine shop awaited near the top, but that hill was daunting, and one member of our family traveled in a wheelchair that someone would have to push over those cobblestones. We hesitated at the bottom of a hill . . . but that, actually, is the end of the story.
To begin at the beginning, we arrived at Villa Fabbroni on Saturday from an overnight flight -- my husband and I, our two sons and two daughters-in-law. As our hosts Stefano and Sergio welcomed us to our apartment, we were weary, disheveled and hungry, and a very long way from any shops or restaurants. Stefano and Sergio wisely saw what we needed and immediately took care of the hungry part.
“Would you like us to bring you lunch?” they asked. Yes, we surely would! And in minutes they re-appeared in our apartment, spreading over the sturdy dining table platters of bread and ham and cheese, olives and, of course wine – just what we needed. We relished every bite. It was only the first of their many acts of hospitality and generosity.
That evening as we pondered how to spend the next day, our first full day in Tuscany, Sergio and Stefano offered to take us in the morning to Panzano, about 30 kilometres away. “There is a market there on Sundays,” they said, “and a good butcher shop.” If we would like, they said. It was up to us. There would be no charge.
The sky was blue and the sun was warm that Sunday morning in Panzano. The market foods were abundant and enticing – baskets of berries, velvety peaches, brilliant oranges and lemons, glistening eggplants, mounds of tomatoes. I braved my fledgling Italian and succeeded in buying fruit and cheese. Then, our hosts suggested, perhaps we might go up this little side street to a meat shop. “It is not far,” they said, “and on Sundays they have a table for tasting.”
L’Antica Macelleria Cecchini was just a tiny shop and it overflowed with visitors, but people came and went, and we were able to squeeze in. On a long table was an inviting array of salumi – spicy sausages, prosciutto, salami, tender roast pork, bread and savory cheeses. A young woman passed a tray with cups of chianti. We sampled, and sampled some more. The macellaio chatted as he carved the roasts, told jokes and stories. We bought ham and salami and roast pork. With our fruit and cheese, we had stocked up well for our cucina, and were ready to move on.
“Now,” said Stefano, “there is a wine shop we might visit, up the hill, by the church.” Ah yes, the hill – the cobblestones, the wheelchair. We hesitated, still weary with jet-lag, sated with the riches of our already full morning. We were daunted, but not our hosts. Taking control of the chair, Sergio said, “Let me. It is no problem.” And so he trundled the wheelchair . . . up the entire length of that long, steep hill. Younger, able-bodied people in the family, re-energized were ready now to take their turns, but he insisted. “It is no problem. It is no problem.“
Near the top of the hill we arrived at Accademia del Buon Gusto. The shop owner in his floppy red hat was handsome and charming. He opened bottle after bottle, explaining vineyards and vintages. He was wise and patient and funny. Other customers came and went, yet he seemed to have all the time in the world just for us. The growing array of used glasses sparkled. The eyes of my daughters-in-law sparkled. My sons good-naturedly posed with the boar’s head at the shop entrance.
We enjoyed other wine tastings in Tuscan vineyards, but they were ordinary affairs compared to the liveliness and laughter of this Accademia. We visited other butcher shops, but none with the generosity and grace of L’Antica Macelleria Cecchini.
Panzano. We could easily have found the market on our own, but the Macelleria and the Accademia? Probably not. Would we have attempted the hill? Probably not. It was the kindness of our genial hosts that made that day so rich, their warmth, their open-heartedness.
And now, what calls me to return to Tuscany? Yes, the food, the wine, the beauty, the art and architecture and history – but mostly, the amazing spirit of hospitality and joy that breathes forth from the people, the way they bask in the good things of life. They live abundantly, but theirs is not a closed circle. They are generous and eager in inviting visitors into that circle of good living.