One fine day

Sometimes, living in Italy can be hard. Sometimes, it seems as if even the simplest things take way more energy than they should, and that at any moment someone will start talking urgently and angrily at you in a language you can't understand. Sometimes, you head out to run a bunch of simple errands as soon as you are done with class, only to discover that, once again, you are too late and every store in the country is closed for the afternoon. Sometimes, leaving the apartment seems risky.

And then, sometimes, everything just works. Today was one of those days. I came up with one of my just slightly too complicated plans, the kind with just a few too many dependencies to be safe. I have about a fifty/fifty success ratio with these plans, and I credit Jeremy for going along with them far more than fifty percent of the time.

Here was the plan: we take a bus to Fiesole, get supplies, head out on a 7 kilometer hike in the hills around Florence, end up in Settignano, catch another bus or two, and magically find ourselves back home. Remarkably, that is pretty much exactly what happened. Okay, so the hike was not along the scenic and quiet strade blanche that I was hoping for, but instead along a moderately well traveled and very narrow set of arterials, but the views of Tuscany were gorgeous, as you can see, and we managed not to get lost, which is impressive for us. My Garmin (a Christmas present), preset with the roads of Italy, definitely saved the day a couple of times. The weather was also incredible; I spent most of the walk in nothing but a t-shirt and jeans.

But, the best part was when we arrived in Settignana, which I am tempted to call a bedroom community to the northeast of Florence. It has a small central piazza, and great views of downtown Florence. It also has a little restaurant called Caffe Desiderio. We thought we might just pop in for a panini and water, but there were some tasty looking pastas on the daily menu. Plus, once we got inside, we found ourselves surrounded by tables filled with people drinking wine and settling in to a full, Italian style lunch. What could we possibly do but the same? We ordered crostini misti and two plates of pasta, only to be talked into trying the hand-sliced prosciutto plate as well and two glasses of a beautifully dry champagne.

Let me pause to sing the praises of this prosciutto. In the middle of the very small dining space (maybe five tables, total), was a cart with two full, cured legs of pig, complete with hooves. I could watch the owner/waiter (I think his wife was the chef) slice first at one, then the other with a massively long knife. The plate that showed up at our table had both types, one described as a typical tuscan style, the other from Fruili. The Fruili was darker and leaner -- not lean, but leaner. It was noticeably salty, but not overwhelmingly. The Tuscan was about half a beautiful, supple, white fat, so basically it was about half lardo. The one from Fruili was more aggressive, but in a way that started to seem obvious compared to the more refined Tuscan. Sorry I don't have a photo of the legs; Jeremy was worried it would seem gauche. In fact, I should admit that none of the photos of the caffe are mine. They are all stolen from the web, but they seem pretty accurate to our experience.

The rest of the meal was equally good, although it was possible I was just high on cured pork and bubbly. There was a lardo crostini dotted with (I think) persimmons, another crostini with beans and a heady olive oil. One crostini had a warm pork spread that was part rillette, part sausage, and a touch of deviled ham. Jeremy had a cinghiale ragu that was head and shoulders about any meat sauce we have had in Florence. He always orders the ragu, and he is always underwhelmed. They are usually bland. I'm not sure if this one was better because it was cinghale (wild boar), or if it was just better, but it was well seasoned and had a wonderfully mysterious spice lurking beneath the meat. Nutmeg? Cinnamon? Chinese five spice, but without the anise? Whatever, it was good. I had ravioli stuffed with cheese in a creamy leek sauce that was just a delicious cheese bomb, saved from seeming heavy by the soft green leeks. By this point, it seemed silly to stop, so we finished with tiramisu and cafe machiati. I barely kept myself from ordering a grappa -- it was, after all, only two in the afternoon.

The ambiance was as good as the food, although not perhaps in an expected way. The place was very brightly lit, and the decor was pretty minimal (other than the swine legs, that is). For reasons I don't understand, there were empty wine bottles hung menacingly from string above our heads (those wine bottles are missing from the photo above). What made it feel so welcoming, though, was that it was filled with families having leisurely and boisterous meals. The owner's family was in one corner, and his kids kept running around the place, only to have him unconvincingly shush them and wrangle them back to their corner. We were about the last to leave, and as we chatted with the owner, he told us that he had a good friend who was becoming famous as a chef in the US: Fabio Viviani (of Top Chef fame, and shame on you for not knowing that)! They went to school together, although they haven't seen each other for 15 years. The funny thing is that this gentleman had far better English than Fabio did on the show, which makes me all the more certain that Fabio was playing the Italian card pretty hard. As we walked out of the restaurant, the bus to Florence pulled up. Easy. We were back home before four, tired and full of food and the sweetness of life in Italy. Vive la dolce vita!