Note: These “postcards” are extracted from the emails that I sent to friends and family while I lived in Umbria. (Umbria is Toscany’s neighbor to the east).
Ciao a Tutti,
My son Jacob was here for the month of May, and what great fun we had! But now I am trying to make up for all the time I goofed off. We did some sightseeing here in Umbria, and we spent his last few days in Rome, in the Lazio region just south of Umbria. There is no city like Roma on earth! But I’m a little shell-shocked. After saying goodbye to Jacob at the airport, I took the train back into Rome, and then a little later, I took it back home to Umbria.
My son Jacob outside the Vatican.
During the few hours I was alone in Rome, someone cut an 8-inch slash in my purse with a knife and then stabbed it several more times, trying to cut through the lining. When I discovered the gaping hole in my purse, I was astounded and frightened. I never noticed anyone near me, and I never felt anything—my hand was always hanging onto my purse, just an inch or so from where they slashed!
After trying to keep up with my twenty-six-year-old son in Rome—and escaping the purse-slashing incident without injury or loss of money—it is good to be back in tranquil Umbria.
In fact, June is one of the nicest months in Umbria. Rain is rare, it isn’t too hot yet, and the landscape is at its prettiest. The hills are a patchwork of colors. Golden fields of grain—oats, wheat, and barley—border hillsides dotted with the grayish-green olive trees and dense forests. In the valley, the corn and sunflowers are over a meter high. Just a few yellow sunflowers break the monotony of green, and the rest are getting ready to open. Rows of tobacco are breaking through the dirt and are now six or so inches tall. The grapevines are filled with leaves and tiny, tiny grapes. At night in the countryside, the dark ‘campo’ twinkles with fireflies!
I am busy working on my book. I spent two days last week cooking with a friend’s mother (Bruna) who is an exceptional, traditional Umbrian cook. We made gnocchi and the classic duck sauce that goes with it—tomatoes, duck, veal, lardo, butter, olive oil, carrots, celery, onion, and plenty of salt. All simmer together to create a thin, velvety sauce that clings to the gnocchi—I’ve never had a more exquisite sauce (the meat is served as a separate course).
The next day, Bruna and I made cappelletti—tiny meat-filled pasta that is served in broth. The filling took a couple hours to make—from simmering to grinding. Then the real work began—kneading the pasta (10 eggs worth) for 20 minutes, rolling out the dough (we used a hand-cranked machine), and cutting 2-inch circles in the dough. Bruna did all that. Then her husband pinched off tiny pieces of the meat filling and dropped a pea-sized bit onto every circle of dough. Three of us folded, twisted, and sealed the pasta—it took over three hours. Usually Bruna makes it alone; it takes her the entire day.
This week I am madly testing recipes and writing—with a break on Thursday when I head to Castelluccio near Norica, in southeastern Umbria. Castelluccio is famous for its fields filled with flowers—and more famous for its tiny, delicious lentils. I head there to see the flowers and then go to a tiny town near Norcia to watch Pecorino cheese being made. Then I hope to make it to a small factory (in an old monastery) where they make prosciutto. Umbria’s best prosciutto comes from Norcia.
Next Monday and Tuesday, I am taking a professional cooking course—Pane, Pizze, e Focacce.
I’d love to hear what’s new with you. Ciao for now, Suzanne Carreiro
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Ciao a tutti,
