One of the very nicest things about life is the way we must regularly stop whatever it is we are doing and devote our attention to eating. — Luciano Pavarotti and William Wright, Pavarotti, My Own Story

They call it a soft opening. I call it the inside track. At least that’s what I’ve got until you read this. Then you’re going to want in on it, too.

It’s the Belmont Food Shop, Carytown’s new-ish establishment dedicated to the art and joy of good eating. They call it a “back to basics approach to food.” And the results are pretty spectacular, even while they’re on their shake-down cruise.

”They” are Steve Ruscitti and Mike Yavorsky, two CIA graduates (that’s Culinary Institute of America, not that scary place in McLean) who have partnered up to co-found a most welcoming little place that speaks to what can happen when people love food, have big hearts and exude creativity.

The daily menu board

Located at 25 N. Belmont Avenue, the Belmont Food Shop — once an A&P Grocery Store —  shouts local color. It has a storefront presence, with good windows and a spectacular wood and marble bar that’s been lovingly moved and reassembled from Steve’s native Chicago. Art on the walls sets the artistic bent to almost everything you see — chalkboard, apple press, decanters — and extends right into the kitchen. Peek inside the kitchen door and you’ll see the original walk-in refrigerator, an ancient but workable Viking oven, a sink and various makeshift surfaces and cubbies that serve as prep and storage space. And what do they make in this quaint space?

Well, ask anybody who’s been there and the first thing they’ll probably say is “truffles.” Walk by the shop and, if it’s open, you just might get a sample of what is simply the richest, most wonderful melt-in-your-mouth chocolate concoction ever.

French toast to die for!

The other thing the Belmont Food Store is known for around town is lunch. Now, you can get a sandwich most any place.  And a soda. And a side dish. And you might pay less than the $12 (tax included) that these guys charge. But I guarantee you it won’t be half as good. Check out the sandwich menu:

• Roast beef, caramelized onions, focaccia
• Minced pork, mustard vinaigrette, potato bread
• Baked turkey, provolone, pickled red onion, arugula, herbed roll
• Crabcake, sally lunn roll
• Smoked mozarella, roasted vegetable terrine, arugula, black pepper potato bread

Check out the side dishes:

• Potato salad (excellent!)
• Deviled eggs (the best ever!)
• Green salad (they make it interesting!)
• Fresh fruit (ditto!)

Sodas? A variety of Route 66 healthy drinks or — if you’re very lucky — some of their home-made ginger beer, which is so crisp and refreshing it will become your staple all summer long.

They also do catering. I asked for a catering menu and Steve said, “Tell us what you want.”

Things are happening in the back yard. . .

Here’s their catering philosophy. (I love that about Steve and Mike — they actually have a philosophy . . . of sourcing, of eating, of cooking, of serving, of creating an environment.)

• We bring our experience, hospitality, and flexibility to your events
• From elegant dinners (in our space or yours) to corporate gatherings or intimate backyard parties, we work with you to create an unforgettable event of any size or theme
• Our catering menus are designed personally with you and we thoughtfully consider every detail of the dining experience
• Drawing from more than 20 years of professional culinary experience, we will work to execute your vision and showcase flavorful foods and beverages
• Belmont Food Shop can be transformed for most occasions, from cocktail receptions to sit-down dinners served with buttoned-up formality or laid-back family style. Art launches or business meetings will feel right at home.

Don’t you love it already? And just wait until September. They’re working with the city to prepare for the opening of their full-service restaurant that, if lunch is any indication, is sure to be spectacular.

High stylin' in the kitchen!

Tim and I brought a gaggle of friends over for a pre-theatre brunch a few Sundays ago. We asked if they could whip something up so we could show our friends the shop and give them a taste of what’s to come. We put a mighty tight budgetary restriction on it and told them we’d have to be in an out in about 90 minutes. When we arrived, even we were gobsmacked by what they had done. Tables had been set up in front of the bar. No fewer than 5 main courses were being put out, family style, and the ubiquitous truffles were already on the table for a sweet finish. A huge bottle of home-made ginger beer was being poured. Coffee was available. People got to the front door and stopped in their tracks. They never expected anything like this, not in their wildest dreams, and certainly not for the money. Just one more little Richmond surprise.

Sinful Apple Pecan Torte...yum!

There’s no doubt in my mind that the Belmont Food Shop — and Steve and Mike — are going to be an important part of the community centered lifestyle in this historic Richmond neighborhood. They make their breads daily and hand cut their roasted meats, much of which they get from Polyface Farms in the Shenandoah Valley. They use local food purveyors whenever possible, like Manakintowne Specialty Growers, Buffalo Creek Beef and Black Hand Coffee Company. And they feed their friends. Well. Try it out. You won’t be disappointed.

Buon viaggio!

Dream of Italy’s Umbria Harvest Week is a wonderful introduction to the food, the wine and the craft of Umbrian living. I could have used another week because I wanted to keep going. Grazie a Kathy e tutti! — Linda Dini Jenkins

The gorgeous olives

Yep. That’s what I said about it on the evaluation form. And she’s doing it again. Kathy McCabe, that is, Editor and Publisher of the wonderfully informative Dream of Italy newsletter. (If you’re an Italophile, you really should subscribe.)

I went on her 2010 Umbria Harvest Week: Food, Wine and Ceramics. She calls it a gourmet Umbria tour, and that it is. And since my spring trip to Verona fell through this year — and if you really wanted to get to bella Italia this year — consider going on this adventure with Kathy in the fall (November 5 – 11). She’ll show you Umbria like a native, and you’ll eat very, very well. Food is what Umbria, the green heart of Italy, is all about.

Start by staying at La Fattoria del Gelso, a 17^th century farmhouse villa

After the harvest

near  Assisi. You’ll be part of a small, well-cared-for group that shares many adventures. You’ll visit Deruta, Italy’s ceramics capital. Then you’ll eat. You’ll tour wineries and an olive oil mill. You’ll eat. You’ll get a 1/2 day cooking class that will put you in a food stupor, but in a good way. You’ll go to the dogs . . . to hunt for truffles. And then you’ll eat. You’ll get guided tours of St. Francis’s beloved Assisi and the historic Umbrian capital of Perugia. And did I mention you’ll eat?

There’s more — and it’s all included in the price. Room. Board. Food. Wine. Guides. Van. And more. Only airfare and transportation to the villa are extra, and Kathy can help you with that. Check out the 2011 itinerary here.

At the Winery

So think about it. If you wanted a trip to Italy this year and you missed out on Verona — which we’ll offer again next year, so keep the spring open — this is the trip to go on. Tell Kathy I sent you.

Buon viaggio!

His love for glasswork and his desire to guarantee the Murano glass tradition led him, in his retirement, to teach future generations of those who share this passion, including in the United States at nonprofit glass centers such as Public Glass in San Francisco and Chicago Hot Glass. — The GLASS Quarterly Hot Sheet, December 21, 2010

You never know who you’re going to meet when you go on a trip abroad. This past November, when I went to Umbria with Dream of Italy’s Umbrian Harvest Tour, I lived amongst a dozen interesting, funny and smart people for a week. I saw two of them — Rosemarie and Valerie — for dinner in New York a few weeks ago. And one couple, Lee and Tarie Harris, are among those I also know I’ll stay in touch with. The very first night, Lee regaled us all, as we sat around the fireplace waiting for dinner, with the prior week’s experiences, among them a three-day trip to Murano to visit his glass-blowing mentor, Elio Quarisa, who was very ill with cancer.

None of us had ever met a glass blower before. A PBS special on Dale Chihuly was about the closest any of us had gotten. But Lee had studied with a “first master” of the Venetian glass school and the love he had for this man and his art and the people who are involved in this incredible industry was evident as he talked into the night.

A month after we returned home, we got an e-mail from Lee saying that his beloved mentor had finally

Maestro Elio and Lee

succumbed to the disease. He was distraught, of course, but grateful for the days he and his wife had spent with Elio and his wife, Adriana. He wanted to get the story out about Elio, his work and the scholarship fund that has been set up by The Studio at the Corning Museum of Glass, where Elio taught in his retirement. I hope you enjoy reading about this amazing man and his efforts to keep an ancient art alive. Thanks, Lee!

“I was incredibly honored not only to be in a workshop with the Venetian Goblet Maestro Elio Quarisa, but to become great friends with him, from the very first day of the workshop at my home glass studio, Chicago Hot Glass, about seven years ago.

Elio and Pino Signoretti, the greatest glass sculptor ever — and one of Chihuly's most treasured Muranese glass artists

“Because of his stature as a living legend I, as well as other top glass artists in the U.S., found ourselves reserved in his presence, to say the least. At the same time, from the first moments of assisting Elio, his quiet reassurance and sincere gestures of kindness made these fears melt away, and in their place came admiration and the sheer joy of being with him.

“With Elio’s awesome good looks, poise and wonderful carriage, he confidently sculpted exceptionally thin and delicate glass into amazing dragon and “delfino” (dolphin) stem creations. You realized quickly that you were in the presence of someone of supreme confidence that only a lifetime of working with glass and the hands of God could produce.

Elio and Adriana

“After only a few weeks of becoming friends with Elio, I and my wife Tarie had the additional gift of becoming friends with his wonderful and beautiful wife, Adriana. I  told Elio that he was actually the Marcello Mastroianni of glass and, were it not for the fact that Adriana had frosted hair, I would have called her the Sophia Loren.

“When you worked with Elio, rushing to bring him a bit of hot glass to finish a complex, delicate goblet, he would look up from the bench, with his wonderful smile, and say, in his broken English, ‘easy, easy…ELEGANTE, slow, breathe’ — in effect, reassuring both the advanced glass artist or neophyte to relax, enjoy and not worry. ‘It’s only glass,’ he would say.

“After these years have passed and now that he has left us, I must admit that if I ever really thought about the

Shaping the dragon

stature of this remarkable glass legend, I might not have experienced the depth and majesty of this amazing man.

“When Tarie I stayed with Elio and Adriana at their wonderful home on the island of Murano, we would walk along the canals, and we would constantly hear people calling out, ‘Ciao, Elio.’ And without even turning around, Elio would call back, ‘Ciao Rosa,’ or whoever it was, knowing everyone by their voice.

“He was Murano — a time and place where neighbors came out early in the morning, sweeping their front streets, or trimming their flowers in the planters of their front windows.

“Seeing this gentle Maestro, one would never know that he had actually gone to work in the glass factory at nine years old during World War II, when his father died and he needed to help support his mother and sister. At an early age, he was recognized for his energy and amazing glass talents. By the time he was 21, he was regarded as a ‘Primo Maestro,’ the highest level of glass artist in what has been the undisputed glass center for 1,200 years.

“After working with several different famous glass studios in Murano, he worked for nearly 30 years at the exclusive — and oldest — furnace in Murano: Barovier & Toso. Jacobellus Barovier was a French chemist, who started the company in 1295. His secret glass coloration formulas are still held by this glass studio, and the company is still held by the Toso family. Elio became their chief of design, in itself an amazing accomplishment.

Signing one of his amazing dragon goblets

“I visited with Elio in November, just a month before he died, hoping that his battle with cancer would end differently than it did. I am grateful that for those amazing three days, not only did I find Elio mobile, but could hardly keep up with his energy.  One day he and Adriana had planned to have his cousin and his wife meet the four of us at the ‘vaporetta’ (water taxi) to get their cars at the Venice airport parking garage, to tour part of the mainland and have a wonderful lunch and dinner. It was about a 12-hour day, and though Elio was experiencing intense chemical poisons to kill the cancer, he never complained and hardly seemed tired.

“Those three days will always be something that makes me smile, because I was with ‘my Elio’ at his home, finding the embracing residents of Murano, whether garbage collector or fellow maestri, all happy, as always, to see Elio.  And, as usual, Elio would stop and ask them how they were, and would want to know how their family and friends were…to catch up.  He would listen and look into their eyes with each word they spoke.

“Of course the people of Murano — many of whom were his artistic contemporaries, legends, suppliers and shop owners who had the benefit of being a part of their lives and their families — also felt he was ‘their Elio.’ I can only smile with the one thought, that perhaps he is now God’s Elio, which I am jealous of.

“So, when I email or speak with other Maestro friends, or glass suppliers and friends in Murano and Venice, when we say hi, or goodbye, we say ‘Ciao.’  To me, it has the same meaning as ‘Shalom,’ because when Elio said Ciao, he meant take care of yourself, because I care about you and your well-being and want you to be happy.

“Ciao, Elio. Shalom.”

Lee wanted me to tell you about a wonderful project being organized by the Corning Glassworks:

Elio, after he retired, came to the U.S. to be sure that anyone interested in Classic Goblet creation could learn from, study with or simply watch the Maestro. It was critical for him that his love of Muranese Goblet design would live on. And so The Elio Quarisa Scholarship Fund has been created by Corning Glass. Each year, Corning hopes to have Elio’s legend live on by awarding scholarship(s) to students wishing to learn and develop classic Venetian Goblet creation.

For more information, contact Amy Schwartz at 607.974.8914 or thestudio@cmog.org. To donate by check, please make checks payable to: The Corning Museum of Glass (designate which scholarship fund in memo/note). Mail donations to: The Corning Museum of Glass, Development Office, One Museum Way, Corning, NY 14830.

Buon viaggio!

I’m going to show you the real New York — witty, smart, and international — like any metropolis. Tell me this: where in Europe can you find old Hungary, old Russia, old France, old Italy? In Europe you’re trying to copy America, you’re almost American. But here you’ll find Europeans who immigrated a hundred years ago — and we haven’t spoiled them. Oh, Gio! You must see why I love New York. Because the whole world’s in New York! — Oriana Fallaci

I was in New York City last weekend. A native New Yorker, I need to go a few times a year, and I am reminded of another quote each time I go. This one is from the writer Sherwood Anderson, who said:  “I think you know that when an American stays away from New York too long something happens to him. Perhaps he becomes a little provincial, a little dead and afraid.” Maybe so; I don’t want to find out.

Anyway, my friend Sharon and I flew up last Friday night for a girl’s weekend. We had tickets to a play at the Brooklyn Academy of Music. (That’s not true, really — we had tickets to see Alan Rickman. He could have stood there and said nothing for two hours and we would have been happy). And I had a mission. I wanted to see what all the fuss was about a certain little Italian comestibles shop called Eataly.

Hotel Mela: Trendy Lobby Area

We checked into the Hotel Mela (which means “apple” in Italian; I loved that) on West 44^th Street. A super friendly boutique hotel that opened in 2007 right in the heart of Times Square, Hotel Mela is comfortable, features amazing staff, offers free Wi-Fi, has beautiful Egyptian cotton sheets and is remarkably well-priced for a hotel this cool. Best of all, it sits directly across from one of my all-time favorite hangouts, Café Un Deux Trois, which I discovered when I worked a few blocks north in the 1970s. A pleasant surprise was that the Café is now open for breakfast as well as lunch and dinner, and it was oh-so-continental to start the day with a steaming cup of caffe au lait under the chandeliers.

And let’s face it . . . I came to eat. So Sunday morning we set off to be at Eataly when it opened at 10:00. The fact that I could even think about eating again after the fabulous dinner we ate with friends Barbara and Geoff on Saturday night in the tiny and tres chic Aurora (Soho) was another thing. It takes practice and, I’ll admit it, I’m well practiced at over-eating good food. Not to mention good wine.

But back to Eataly. Twenty-third Street and Fifth  Avenue (right where, as I once said in a poem, “Fifth  and Broadway do-si-do . . .”) will never, ever be the  same. This was not even a neighborhood when I  lived in New York (and I lived just 4 blocks away!).  The only reason you’d go over to this corner was to  catch a cross-town bus. Especially on a Sunday  morning. My, how things have changed!

Getting there early was a good idea. The entrance  that we chose opened into a little Italian café . . .  authentic coffee concoctions (made from Torino-based Lavazza, of course) were paired with yummy pastries, and couples and families were coming in slowly and filling up the seats. It was friendly and bright and relaxing and we were off to a good start. As the morning went on, the crowds grew more intense and, while I’m not big on crowds, there was something enjoyable about this. Maybe because we were all here to have the same experience. Maybe because there were so many different languages being spoken (including a whole lot of Italian) and it was transporting. Maybe because the places is just so smartly designed and the products are so irresistible that you didn’t care. We stayed for nearly five hours.

Eataly was created in 2007 in Torino (Turin), Italy, the brainchild of Oscar Farinetti, an appliance/food store impresario who had a dream to create an experience that combined the elements of a lively Italian marketplace with a resource where customers could eat, shop and learn. His first 30,000 square foot enterprise began the journey to make high-quality Italian foods available to everyone. Today there are Eatalys throughout Italy (Torino, Bologna, Milano, Asti and Pinerolo) and Japan (Daikanyama, Mitsukoshi and Gransta); the New York City location, which opened in 2010, is the latest venture.

Joined by business partners Mario Batali, Lidia and Joe Bastianich and the Slow Food Movement, Farinetti’s Eataly NYC is a singular experience, sometimes overwhelming but always amazing. The store’s 10-point Manifesto begins with the statement, “We’re in love with food” and sets the tone for the tour. These people are passionate about food and passionate about sharing it with the public. They believe in selling quality products (which means they don’t always come cheap) and offering quality service. I wasn’t disappointed.

Delizioso!

Where to start? What’s your pleasure? Fish? Buy it for later and enjoy the raw bar while they wrap up your gorgeous selection. Vegetables? There’s a produce market like none you’ve ever seen and you can be seated to enjoy fresh-made soups, bruschettas and more. Pizza and pasta? Of course. A little wine and cheese? Go straight to La Piazza for your tastings. Looking for some bread or sweets to take home? There are almost too many to deal with. There’s a selection of house wares in the back, including the always amusing Michael Graves-for-Alessi selections. Restrooms? Of course. And, as the sign says, they’re in the back by the beer . . .

Bello carciofo!

While all the individual tasting areas were more than tempting, Sharon and I opted to have the full Eataly experience and put our names in for a 12:15 seating at Manzo, the formal dining room. I’m happy to report that this meat-centric restaurant has something for everybody, even mostly-meat-avoiders like me. The service was impeccable and the food was to die for. We each started with an appetizer — a roasted beet salad with hazelnuts, poppy seeds and smoked ricotta for one, and then crispy baby artichokes with oven-dried tomatoes on a bed of arugula with a dressing of whole mustard and olive oil. We could have stopped there. But of course, we didn’t.

Ham and Cheese!!

Sharon had the Girasoli di Mortadella with Pistachios and Scallions. There’s nothing quite like a stuffed pasta in the shape of a sunflower to make you smile! And I opted for the Angolotti del Plin with Brown Butter and Parmigiano. These closed-up little guys were stuffed with a combination of chicken and mortadella and the shaved cheese on top was so sweet it almost made me cry. Stop there? Not on your life! Bring on the Torrone Semifreddo and café! Sure, it would have been cheaper if we’d just gone over and ordered a slice . . . but really, who knows when I’ll get back here? I have no regrets, just another pound or two to work off before the next Weight Watchers weigh-in. I only wish I could have stayed for one of the Lidia Bastianich-inspired cooking classes. Next time . . .

And with that, we went back to the hotel to wait for our car to the airport, armed with a few gift selections and good memories of the theatre, the restaurants, the hustle and bustle of it all and Eataly. You should go. Sign up for the mailing list and take a cooking class. Travel to Italy without the passport. Mangia bene!

Buon viaggio!

Kathy McCabe, Editor and Publisher of the informative — and beautiful — travel newsletter, Dream of Italy, is my guest this week.  Over the last eight years she has published nearly 80 issues, each one chock-a-block full of stories about Italian culture and essential “insider” travel tips for the Italophile and first-time traveler alike.

She’s an experienced travel planner and I recently had the pleasure of accompanying her on her first Umbrian harvest adventure. Read what Kathy has to say about travel, leaving France for Italy and fox terriers!

Did your parents take you traveling as a child? Are they responsible for your getting bitten by the travel bug?

Yes, they did and they deserve much of the credit for putting me on this path. I think it is such a gift to give children exposure to other cultures and places, especially during their most formative years. When I was 10 years old, my parents took advantage of the “new” budget airline People Express (anyone remember them?) and took me to London. I fell madly in love with Europe, history, travel and everything that goes along with it.

When did you first go to Italy and was it love at first sight?

Technically, I first stepped on Italian soil during a short trip around France when I was in college. I was traveling with a friend and we decided to take the train from Nice to Santa Margherita Ligure over the border in Italy. We spent the day and evening exploring Santa Margherita and Portofino and I was completely and totally smitten.

You must understand, I was quite the Francophile at this point, studying international relations with an emphasis on France. Poor France never had a chance after that one day and night in Italy. I remember how we ate gelato in a little piazza as the townspeople took their evening passeggiata. It was the first time I had the feeling I was in an old-time Italian movie. I’ve definitely had the feeling more than a few times since then.

The next summer, I convinced my mom to come back with me to Italy right after my college graduation. We did Venice, Florence, Rome and the Amalfi Coast. I haven’t missed a year since and now visit two or three times a year.

What is your favorite region of Italy and why?

This is a dangerous question. It is kind of like asking about favorite children! That said, I will say that my favorite city is Rome, followed in a close second by Torino. I think Turin and the region of Piedmont are still so “under the radar” and well worth visiting. Some of the best food and wine I have had in all of Italy — and I have been to just about every region — has been in Turin and Piedmont.

I’m fairly partial to southern Italy and often say if I had the money I would buy a house near the water (three-quarters of the region is surrounded by ocean) in Puglia – another of my favorite regions. There are farms with vineyards, olive trees and vegetables, separated by neatly constructed stone walls. The giant olive trees, several feet in diameter, twisted and towering, are startling. Puglia is famous for its trulli, small conical buildings made from limestone, first built in the 13th century and are  unique to this region.

As a long-time subscriber to your newsletter, I am always amazed by the depth and breadth of information that comes packed into each issue. How do you get your story ideas?

I’d say the majority of my story ideas come from my own travels to Italy, but I also have been lucky to have some great writers (including Matt Tyrnauer  from Vanity Fair) pitch me with ideas from their own travels. I strive to provide information that can’t be found elsewhere or that is presented in a new way. More than 40% of Dream of Italy’s subscribers have been to Italy six or more times. They are always looking for something new – new restaurants, hotels, exhibits, stores, cooking classes, etc. And I’m always looking to bring my readers educational and authentic experiences that they can take part in or recreate.  They want to experience the “real” Italy and interact with everyday Italians.

I had the pleasure of taking part in your recent small group Umbria Harvest Tour and it was wonderful. Most Americans tend to go to Rome or somewhere in Tuscany — why did you choose Umbria? (I’m glad you did!)

Kathy, tasting fresh Umbrian olive oil

I had been to Umbria several times when, several years ago, my friends the Menards invited me to their newly purchased villa – Fattoria del Gelso. It was harvest time – late October/early November and this is one of my favorite times to visit Italy (what is considered the “off-season”). We had such an amazing week eating, drinking, eating more, drinking more – no really, wine tasting at vineyards, truffle hunting, visiting an olive mill.  I don’t remember running into any other Americans while we took our day trips. This is the real Italy and really jives with Dream of Italy’s mission.

For years, subscribers have been asking for me to personally run some small organized tours and Dream of Italy’s Umbria Harvest Week was my first tour.  I think, as you know, it was an incredible success! Our guests were shedding tears on the last night because they had such a phenomenal time and totally bonded with fellow members of the group.

Will you be doing this trip (or others) again?

Dream of Italy’s Umbria Harvest Week will be held again in November 2011. There’s a possibility I may offer another small group tour in 2011, as well.

I know you love Fox Terriers and that you recently lost your very special doggie, Cooper. Will you be getting another one and can we see a picture?

Thanks for asking about the incredible Cooper Leonardo McCabe. Who would have guessed 10 years ago that this little guy from the New York Avenue shelter in Washington, DC would have such a great impact on my life?  He was so incredible and had a voracious appetite for life and food – he was surely Italian in a former life.

Finney, the happy dog, with his new owner

When Cooper passed away in August, I worked with American Fox Terrier Rescue to establish The Cooper Fund to help homeless and abused fox terriers.  In conjunction with Dream of Italy, we held a very effective fundraiser in the early fall and have something even bigger in the works (and related to Italy) this winter.

Recently, one of the tireless American Fox Terrier Rescue board members – Debi Drake – knew she had the right little guy for me. His name is Phineas, or Finney for short. He’s two years old and is so sweet and playful.

How can people get in touch with you to (a) subscribe to Dream of Italy or (b) to learn more about upcoming small group trips?

A subscription to Dream of Italy comes with a number of benefits, including Italy travel discounts, and you can find out all about them on our subscription page. The Umbria Harvest Week details will be posted in January. Folks can always follow me on Twitter or Facebook for all kinds of Italy travel advice, giveaways, deals, etc.

Thanks, Kathy!

Buon viaggio!

Where the heck is Bevagna? — Tim Jenkins, responding to my text that we had arrived

Millstone in the light, Bevagna

Four of us were being driven from Rome’s Fiumico airport towards what would be our home away from home for a week in Cannara, just outside of Assisi, in Umbria. We were tired, and it was only 9:30 in the morning, and we were trying to be civil to each other, despite the long flight over and the fact that none of us had gotten very much sleep. Our sweet driver, Aldo, had piled our luggage into the back of his SUV-taxi and was carefully negotiating us around all the twists and turns required to get us out of the airport and onto the highway.

After a while, I smiled when I saw the sign on the A1 for Abruzzo. It made me realize that I would be coming back again in a scant six months, taking that very turn off the road to head to yet another adventure. Never had I had back-to-back trips to Italy like this. Life was good.

But we passed it by in favor of the signs to Assisi. It would be a two-hour drive to the agriturismo, La Fattoria del Gelso, so we settled in to admire the scenery and get to know each other a little. Two of the gals were friends, having met on a prior trip. One flew in from southern California and the other, from Memphis. The third lived in New York City, and then there was me, a native New Yorker now living in Virginia. We were all about the same age (anything over 50 strikes me as being in the same demographic group these days) and seemed very compatible. The week would bear that out; we became fast friends.

Aldo pulled off the secondary road we’d been driving on for a while and made the turn towards Cannara. Winding around what had recently been fields of sunflowers, the famous Cannara onions and other agricultural products, we saw one of those amazing Italian sites: a cemetery, protected by poplar trees and fronted by a huge stone structure with a formidable gate. We would go later in the week, and be awe-struck by the elaborate crypts and mausoleums and the loving care shown by the survivors of these tight-knit families.

Aldo made a quick left turn just past the cemetery and drove us down a stand of cypress trees for about 1/4 mile to our villa. It was beautiful. A stone farmhouse originally built in the 1700s and recently refurbished to be an 8-bedroom, 8-bath sight for sore, tired eyes. The owners, Bill and Suzy Menard — Americans from Maryland (more on them in a later post) — were mighty lucky to have found this place, with its good farmland, welcome swimming pool and close proximity to the best Umbria has to offer. The problem was, it was too early to get into our rooms.

We were about to head off to the village of Cannara on foot, when Marco, a prince of a guy who helps run the place when Bill and Suzy aren’t there, suggested instead that Aldo take us into the nearby town of Bevagna. He said that Cannara would be pretty much closed down at this time of day and that it didn’t offer too many options for lunch — which we were in desperate need of. So we piled our suitcases in the living room and climbed back into the taxi for our adventure in Bevagna.

A very, very old fountain

The historic little town of Bevagna sits in the province of Perugia in the central part of Umbria. Both it and Cannara are on the flood plain of the Topino River (remember Topo Gigio, kids? Topino means little mouse). Bevagna, population approximately 3,000, was originally an Etruscan settlement and then a Roman outpost called Mevania, and the Roman walls and mosaics were evident all around town. We entered through the Porto Foligno, the town’s main entrance, which leads to the central square, Piazza Silvestri. There are three churches in Bevagna, including the 13^th century church of San Francesco (he’s pretty big around here) which includes a stone (on the wall, protected by a grate) that is said to be the one St. Francis stood upon when he preached to the birds.

Bevagna, it turns out, is in the middle of white truffle territory and is also an enthusiastic purveyor of the region’s tasty Montefalco Rosso wines. As it was getting on towards lunch time, we walked around town to find a suitable spot. We found one, not yet open, that looked incredible and, as we later learned, is one of the premier foodie destinations in the region. Redibis (which means “I shall return” in Latin) is part of the boutique hotel L’Orto Degli Angeli and many of the dishes offered at Redibis are taken from the 100-year-old recipes of the current owner’s great grandmother, Caterina. How often do you get to enjoy fine dining in a building that is 20 centuries old? How often do you get to experience classical Umbrian recipes interpreted by a young, hip, accomplished chef? How many times do you get to stay in an historic hotel in an historic town — and even attend cooking classes? Stop thinking and, if you’re anywhere near Bevagna on your next trip to Umbria, go. I know I will.

Me and Simone

With Redibis closed, we went off to find Aldo’s suggestion — La Delizie del Borgo, a small, friendly looking place right on Piazza Garibaldi. We arrived around 11:45 and were told we were “un troppo presto” – a little too early — but were advised to make a reservation and to come back in 45 minutes, which we did. We took time to walk around the town, going into churches and climbing up and down the very up-and-down streets, taking pictures. When we returned at 12:30, they were ready for us. The owner, Simone, escorted us to a table and before long, he learned that we were staying at Bill and Suzy’s place, which made all the difference. Suddenly we were no longer a bunch of silly americani who ate way too early — we were friends. He told us that he’d be coming to both New York and Washington, D.C. in a few weeks for some cooking adventures with the Menards; we exchanged cards and told him to give us a call when he arrived.

Turns out we ordered Simone’s favorite red wine, a Montefalco Rosso 2007, and he offered to bring out some of

Le Delizie del Borgo

the local specialties for us rather than have us order from the menu. We soon learned that Umbria is not only the “green heart” of Italy, but it is also Italy’s breadbasket. We ate the local Torta di Testa and all kinds of other white and whole grain breads slathered with chicken liver pate, olive tapenades, olive oil and garlic. There were plates of cheese and salami and even shaved white truffles. At one point, Simone brought to our table a small baking dish covered with a damp white napkin. When he pulled back the napkin, he revealed a bounty of fresh white truffles, worth I can’t imagine how much. He made us smell the cloth and the truffles, each one of us, because they are as precious as gold. Never has mustiness smelled so rich! For dessert, he offered us cantucci (mini biscotti cookies), which we dipped into small glasses of the local Sagrantino Passito di Montefalco, a sweet wine rather like Vin Santo. And before we left, Simone gave us a bag of rich nut and fruit cookies that we shared with the rest of the group on our last night.

It was quite a first day. What began as a jet-lagged slog to an unknown village ended, like so many Italian adventures do, with new friends, a new outlook and a full tummy. By now we were all excited to meet the rest of the group, so when Aldo returned promptly when he said he would, we climbed back into the van and drove back to Cannara, already armed with a fresh new story to tell.

Buon viaggio!

The traveler who has gone to Italy to study the tactile values of Giotto or the corruption of the Papacy, may return remembering nothing but the blue sky and the men and women under it. — E.M. Forster

As you read this, I am somewhere in Umbria — “the green heart of Italy” — with about a dozen other folks. We will visit Assisi, Deruta and Perugia. We will drink the deep red wines and experience the harvests in these places. November is a magical time to be in Italy, away from the harsh summer sun and the madding summer crowds. There is a different tempo here now, as the temperatures cool and most of the tourists are gone. And November offers a price advantage, too; shoulder seasons are always less expensive and rooms are more available. For me, this is the trip of a lifetime. I have wanted to go to Umbria for years but somehow, other regions of Italy always jumped ahead in the queue. Not that I’m complaining.

Of course, I’m sorry that Tim isn’t here with me. He’s on his own adventure right now, driving through Nashville and on to Cincinnati and back. He’ll have stories to tell, and I’ll probably tell them.

Meanwhile, here is a four-minute video that some of you might not have seen when I first posted it last year. It’s of my 60^th birthday trip to Lombardia/Emilia Romagna/Veneto last September. This is the work of my remarkably talented friend, Richard Buckley. Enjoy!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TgJXVadOiEA

Buon viaggio!

One of the essential skills for a traveler is the ability to make a rather extravagant fool of oneself. — John Flinn

What’s the first thing you do when you wake up in Italy on the first day of your vacation? The choices are clear: from where we are, we can go to any of the great Shakespearean cities — Padova, Verona, Mantova — or we can take a longer trip to romantic Venice or even drive up to the lakes. Yes, the choices are many, and the consensus comes quickly: Screw culture, art and architecture! We want to see the Ferraris! And so we sped off, that first day, eight of us in two cars, driving the hour or so west, towards Maranello.

The new red shoes

First stop? The Ferrari Store, of course. Not exactly where you buy the car itself, but just about everything else that could possibly carry that “prancing horse” logo. There were shirts and jackets and children’s clothes; journals and watches and beverage holders of all kinds; there were fancy shoes and skis and even model cars. As I was choosing from among a half dozen spiral bound notebooks, I looked up to see my husband in the shoe department. Now, Tim is not a souvenir buyer and he always looks for a bargain. So what the heck was he doing asking for help in the Ferrari Store shoe department? (Definitely not the place to find a bargain!) I quickly picked out a journal and went over to see what he was doing. And then I saw them: a gorgeous pair of Ferrari-red leather sneakers. On his feet. Made by Puma, these were real beauties. And I knew he had to have them. The one thing I’ve learned about Tim after all these years is that, aside from pottery and the occasional 200-year-old chair, the one thing he really has no resistance against is good-looking shoes. So the very first souvenir of our trip was bought by the person least likely to buy a souvenir. We were off to a good start.

After about an hour, we all decided we’d bought everything that we were going to

A bevy of Ferraris

buy, and went off in search of The Ferrari Gallery. Now, this place surprised even me. All that red. All those shiny sports cars — antique ones, late model ones, displayed both on the ground and running up walls. You could touch them, look into them, read all about them. I thought we’d spend half an hour there and move on. I was wrong. Even the most girlie-girl among us was enthralled. And there was much to be enthralled by: along with the dozens of classic red Ferraris were silver Maseratis and one special baby blue Alfa Romeo that was to die for. We looked a little, then had lunch in La Caffetteria and then went back and looked some more.

The beautiful Alfa Romeo

About 20 minutes south of Mantova (Mantua), Maranello has a lot to offer. The main destination is, of course, The Ferrari Gallery, which lays out the legend of the Prancing Horse Team. It’s open every day from 9:30 – 6:00 p.m. and tickets are required. In the Piazza Libertà near town hall you’ll find the monument to Enzo Ferrari which was put there in 1998 by his son, Pietro, on the occasion of the 100^th anniversary of his father’s birth. And speaking of monuments, there’s also a “Prancing Horse” statue near the Via Grizzaga roundabout, which has stood there since 2003 in celebration of Ferrari’s victory in the Formula 1 (F1) World Championship that year. Other attractions include the Galleria del Vento (Wind Tunnel) designed by Renzo Piano to simulate the real-life experience of the F1 cars (no visitors allowed); the well-used Enzo Ferrari Auditorium which, during race week, opens to all the fans who want to attend the free showing of the F1 race; the Villa Rangoni Machiavelli Park and the Madonna del Corso Cultural Centre. And while Maranello is most noted for being the “City of Ferrari,” it is also famous for its excellent Emilian cuisine. A worthy day trip, by anyone’s calculations.

Did we make fools of ourselves in Maranello? Probably. But we had a ball. Best of

Making a fool of myself, happily

all, while we thought we were doing something especially for the “guys,” it turns out we were all equally won over by the sleek, winning machines and the story of Enzo Ferrari and the legacy he created.

Buon viaggio!

Salem, Massachusetts: Tough on crime for 300 years. — Our friend, Rev. Steve Silver

Ellen's handiwork

It happens early every October in Salem. First, Ellen Talkowsky and her able crew tie dozens of dried corn stalks to all the light posts downtown. Orange ribbons, of course. Then the banners go up along Essex Street and the pedestrian mall. Then there’s a certain anticipation in the air, both good and bad. Here they come . . . the haunted houses that stay up for a month, the fried dough and sausage stands, the tarot readers and other assorted psychics, and the tourists. Tens of thousands of them every weekend, culminating in 100,000+ on Halloween night itself. Salem is still trying to get used to this.

Salem’s Haunted Happenings began as the brainchild of one Bob Cahill, a Salem resident and state representative in the mid-1970s. He (with the help of a few neighborhood kids) started by scaring the bejeesus out of people at a new attraction in town, the Witch Dungeon Museum. Around 1982, Cahill finally got to meet with the Salem Chamber of Commerce and “Haunted Happenings” was institutionalized. It has grown every year and is now one of the most important “events” in town.

As a ten-year resident of Salem, I can tell you that this success is met with mixed

Beautiful Bott's Court

emotions by the locals. Yes, it’s great for revenues and for showing off the city to tourists. But it also impacts the downtown neighborhoods negatively in terms of parking, noise and garbage. More importantly, the “witch” business has tended to overshadow the “real” history of this special community — the maritime history, the importance of Salem as a trader in luxury goods, the literary history of Nathaniel Hawthorne, the intellectual and artistic history of the Essex Institute and the Peabody Museum, the critical contributions of Nathaniel Bowditch, whose navigational books are still on every naval ship in the world, and the incredible housing stock that survives in countless neighborhoods around town. And did you know that Alexander Graham Bell made the first phone call here? Or that the Lyceum Restaurant (where the call was made) was the site of an original lyceum, attracting many of the world’s most well-known speakers? Well, the list goes on, right up to modern times — Salem is also the home town of one Jack Welch, former chairman/CEO of General Electric. Not bad.

Along Essex Street

So when the residents here are confronted with nothing but tourists dressed up in witch and ghoul costumes for the better part of a month, they have to grin and bear it. After all, if you dig deep enough into the Salem Witch Trials, you will see that they had very little to do with actual witchcraft. And that nobody was burned. Probably hundreds of books and videos are for sale around Salem dealing with the subject — Bob Cahill has written several of them. Try to find a reliable account — from the Peabody Essex Museum, for example— if you want to read about it.

The Great Kearney Pumpkin

This year, the Haunted Happenings Parade launched the season on October 7 and there’s no stopping it. Every day there’s something to do — witch history, pirate history, haunted houses, theatrical events, psychic fairs, and so on. Here are a few of my favorites:

• Salem Witch House — home of Judge Jonathan Corwin of the Witch Trials
• Salem Witch Museum — Salem’s most visited museum
• Peabody Essex Museum — with roots back to 1799
• Phillips House — the only house open to the public on historic Chestnut Street
• Witch Trials Memorial — in a very moving park setting
• The Witch Trial Trail — by Jim McAllister, Salem’s official historian
• The House of the Seven Gables — Hawthorne’s inspiration
• Salem Maritime National Historic Site — go on board the Friendship & the Fame
• Salem Ferry — Ride from Boston to Salem in style

Dolci at Adriatic Restaurant

There’s still time to go. Get a taste of New England fall and the madness that is Salem in October. It’s wonderful, really. And the restaurants and shops that have sprung up since we left five years ago are astonishing. It’s a special place year-round that goes a little crazy for a few weeks every year. It’s allowed. It’s lived through more than most places and has forgotten more history than most cities ever knew. There. I’ve said it. I love Salem. Go see it!

Buon viaggo!

All Southerners are required to have a layover in Atlanta on their way to     either Heaven or Hell. — Conventional wisdom at SIBA

We just got back from SIBA — the Southern Independent Booksellers Alliance trade show, held in Daytona Beach, FL this year. It was a great show. Great  Little Books, LLC had a nice presence there and we met tons of terrific people. The bad joke is that two days later, people are still trickling back to their homes and home book stores . . . all having to go through Atlanta during a night or two of bad weather. It took us more than nine hours to fly from Daytona to Richmond (VA) and, although we had a good time, we could have been somewhere a lot more interesting than Florida and not taken as long to get home!

I’d been through Daytona Beach years ago on a family vacation. My parents had a soft spot for the town, since they lived there right after my dad got out of the Navy in 1945; he finished his tour in Daytona. Mom waxed poetic about being able to drive the car on the beach. And looking back, she always laughed at how often they had to eat lobster, since lobsters were still considered something of a junk fish at that time and they were not living high on the hog on Dad’s service salary. Too bad; pass the lemon and butter, please.

Me at the booth

Anyway, here I was, with Tim and three boxes of books, eager to set up our exhibit booth and get on to the business of attending some workshops on Friday and then talk to booksellers on Saturday and Sunday. Daytona Beach is a quiet town in September. Our cab driver said that the economy was being hit hard: real estate market, job market — everything. And with the exception of a few race weeks (when the population of the town doubles, to 400,000) and the annual Spring Break chaos, the city did not seem to be doing very well. And in September, the tourist level was way down and the only business usually came from a few conventions. This week, that would be SIBA.

We checked into our hotel, the Plaza Resort & Spa, on North Atlantic Avenue, unpacked and

Memories

immediately went out on the beach to discover where we were and where we could find lunch. The wind was howling, there was intermittent rain and it was hot. Felt like Bermuda. But this was not Bermuda. Bermuda would not have the amazing Sling Shot ride or a huge Ferris Wheel planted near one of its beaches. Nor would it have the bevy of amusement rides or a tacky-but-popular thatched tiki bar that was actually called The Tiki Bar. We found a place called the Ocean Deck and went in. Good views of the water (some people swimming in the ocean, despite the pretty fair-sized jellyfish) and a typical beach menu. We had lunch and talked to a friendly and knowledgeable time-share person named Nicole who happened to be sitting at the next table. It’s amazing what you can learn when you open up to people. My fish and chips were good and Tim’s grilled ahi tuna over greens was very good. We hope Nicole passed her SCUBA test!

A classic!

On the way back to the hotel, we strolled along North Ocean Avenue and ran into a most amazing place: Stamie’s Smart Beach Wear. What was the attraction? How about a 19-foot-long Jantzen diving girl sign over the door? Created out of fiberglass, this diving girl is one of six made in 1959 and it has been the trademark of Stamie’s since 1965. Jantzen — the iconic brand worn by every major star of the silver screen, including Esther Williams, Elizabeth Taylor, Ginger Rogers and Marilyn Monroe — turned 100 this year and long ago lived up to its slogan, “The suit that changed bathing to swimming.” It was a real pleasure to talk to the daughter of the original owners of Stamie’s, a Jantzen Swimwear destination in Daytona for more than 50 years. While we were there, her mother called to check on sales — she’s 96 years old. That’s what I call dedication. Stamie’s is a real treasure, and if you get to Daytona, do not miss it!

Aside from the Ocean Deck, the other restaurants that we tried were all along Seabreeze Blvd., adjacent to the hotel. This is a block filled with clubs and it must look like one of the hotter circles of hell during busy season. We were lucky: they were opening just as we were going back to the hotel.

One night we ate in Sapporo, with its stupefying Floating Sushi bar. You sit at the bar and there’s a stainless steel moat in front of you with small wooden boats tied together with wire. A selection of sushi, vegetables, fruit or dessert is placed atop each one and the flotilla makes a continuous loop around the moat. Each plate of food is color coded and you pay according to how many plates of which color you have stacked up at the end of the night. Wild.

The next two nights found us at the wonderful Lime Restaurant, Chef Matt Rosa’s Caribbean/

A little Lime light

American/Tapas delight. Tim had the best calamari (grilled, not fried) he’s ever eaten and the grilled salmon atop spinach salad was out of this world. And, let’s face it, you gotta love a restaurant that features a good selection of rums, Cockspur and Gosling’s Black Seal among them. To top off the evening, the Tres Leches cake was incredible, all those different milk products lending their flavors and moistness to the cake. Olé!

But the most amazing thing about Seabreeze Blvd. is a small art gallery located near Lime. Called Aberrant Art, this is the brainchild of one Barry Kite, a collage artist/poet/actor originally from Chicago, whose pieces hang in a variety of museums and private collections, including that of guitarist Ron Wood. I’m at a loss to describe his art, other than to say that it combines social and political parody via the “re-positioning” of historical art pieces and contemporary imagery. The Chicago Sun-Times calls it, “comical, irreverent, blasphemous marriages of fine art and, often, campy pop icons.”

Some of the images are PG and funny: think Seurat’s “A Sunday Afternoon on the Island of La Grand Jatte.”  Then picture a parking lot filled with black and white Volkswagen Beetles, separate the characters in the Seurat painting and call it “Sunday Afternoon Looking for the Car.” Other images are either very racy or just much more disturbing, and need to be seen to be appreciated for the thought-provoking pieces they are. This is not for everyone, but if you bring your appreciation for art and your suspicions of pop culture and politics, you’ll probably be fine.

So what about the book show? You never know how these things go. I hope our books sell like crazy. We certainly brought them to the attention of lots of booksellers who seemed to be interested. It’s our mission: to bring great little books to the people who want them. We’ve got four now, and if you go to our website, you’ll find them. I learned more about the wonderful world of Tweeting and may have found, as a blogger, a bookstore here in Virginia to “get in bed with,” as the show’s campaign says. We shall see.

My most favorite discovery at the show? A little book by Lane Smith (author of The Stinky Cheese Man) called It’s A Book. Read it if you know someone who’s getting caught up in the electronic book craze. My least favorite moment of the show? A breakfast at which an audience member, who said she was a Christian, publicly berated a speaker for “taking the Lord’s name in vain too many times” in his novel. She said this after noisily tearing pages out of his book during his speech.

These are some crazy days, but we find grounding and meaning in the words we read and write, the places we go, the people we meet and the memories we carry with us. Have a good week. See something wonderful, then write about it.

Buon viaggio!