My Way Is The Highway

Tuscan food

While we went from city to city, one site to another, we were working on the Tuscan food.  By no stretch of imagination can one call me foodie. By the time I am done applying my filters, the only thing left for me to eat is spicy Indian stuff. Tuscany was different.

Simple recipes that used fresh, local ingredients. Tomatoes, garlic, asparagus, bell pepper, egg plant. Lots and lots of olive oil and exotic herbs.

                                         La Ribollita

Small servings. Very well presented without unnecessary fuss.

For lunch, we usually ordered a bruschetta with bierra or a local white/rouge. (Vernaccia in San Gimignano was the find of the trip). We then ordered a plate of pasta and a plate of sea food. An espresso to round it off.

For dinner, we went for a local red or plain old house wine, inexpensive and delicious. We tried several soups. Ribollita was a revelation, as was bread soup – Focaccia dipped in tomato soup has never tasted so delicious,  a dessert (lemon tart, Tiramisu, even a chocolate cake once in a while),  ending with “un cafe”. Then on the walk back, we would get dollops of fresh gelato. By the end of the trip, we seemed to have tried every flavor  and loved them all.

We did not pick out restaurants. The restaurants picked up. We walked into the nearest Trattoria when we were hungry. There were no disappointing meals in Italy. They were uniformly delicious. Yet no two plates ever tasted the same.

The Bambini

(Earlier today, we were at Torre del Mangia, Bernini’s Chapel, Piccolomini’s library, Piccolomino’s altar, Outside the Duomo and Piazza Il Campo)

As we trudged back to pick up our car, we found a wonderful modern Italian design.

The car was no taller than Rhea who stands at 50 inches. A traditional golf cart would be a little longer. Yet, it seemed made to seat 4 people. It had a retractable roof and a small boot.

It was as minimalistic as it could be. Not an single piece of ornament. No fuss. Nothing fancy.

Just a piece of mean driving machine. Capable of taking every elbow corner in Yuscany, every steep slope, needing as much parking space  as a cruiser bike in USA.

I enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed almost everything else in Italy.

(Read on: We head to San Gimignano tomorrow)