During a vacation in Italy a
few years ago, I heard someone say the people of the present day Tuscany couldn't
get used to being a part of the European Union. They felt uncomfortable being
called Europeans. In fact they hadn’t accustomed themselves as yet to being
Italians. After all, the unification of Italy happened only in the 1860s.
Tuscans are reputedly still living in the city-states of the Middle Ages. Each
city, such as Florence, Pisa, Siena and Lucca, fiercely retains its unique
identity.
After visiting Florence and
Siena, we booked a guided tour of Lucca with a superb guide named Paolo. The
city, birthplace of Puccini, was surrounded by a fortressed and imposing wall
wide enough for strolling and bicycling.
Paolo explained the
illustrious history of the Lucchesi who had fought trade wars with Florence and
Siena as well as Pisa. He told us that the enmity between the city-states of
the Middle Ages still exists.
He told us how the crafty
citizens of Lucca had beaten back the more powerful armies by their superior
intelligence and wit.
The hero of this period was
one Castruccio Castracani, who was so cunning a ruler, he served as the model
for The Prince, the book Machiavelli
wrote to educate Lorenzo de Medici in the art of civic dominance.
The next day we travelled to
Pisa and there was the same guide but this time his name was Giorgio. He
explained that it was a matter of strict government tour guide licensing so we
didn't take the matter any further.
It was a fine tour. For me,
while Lucca was love at first sight, my feelings for Pisa took longer to warm.
It was difficult getting past the clichés of the town’s most famous sight. I
learned to appreciate the Cathedral and Baptistry, the Arno River and the
little still Medieval squares.
Pisa had been the dominant
Tuscan city-state through much of the Middle Ages but had declined when the
course of the Arno changed and cut off access to the sea.
He didn't mention the war
with Lucca, but we heard about the Florentines who stomped all over the entire
region about the same time the Renaissance began.
In the afternoon we went with
a group to the Fattoria Il Poggio, a vineyard and olive farm. It was on a hill
covered with grape vines. Under the shade of olive trees, tables were set out
for dining.
Our hostess and guide
Francesca, who exuded youthful Italian charm and style, met us. She led us
through the vineyards, explaining the ancient ways of planting and harvesting
still very much in use at the fattoria.
Someone asked how they could
tell which vines were to be harvested and which needed to be left to grow
stronger.
"Do you think we’re
stupid?" she bristled, "We keep records. Do you think we are like the Pisans who are
the garbage of this earth? Who wouldn’t
know a ripe grape from a fig?”
That’s when I figured out we
were in Lucca again. (The town was called Monte Carlo but obviously it was a
part of Lucca. Good thing I didn’t ask.)
Wow! Pisa really is still the
eternal enemy of Lucca.
Francesca didn't stop there.
“As my Nona always said, ‘Better a dead body in your bed than a Pisan at your
doorstep.’”
She described the purity of
the local vintage, which would never - I repeat, never - be exported to the USA
because it would be contaminated and made indigestible by the addition of
sulfites.
Some fool mentioned that he
thought all wines had sulfites.
“Ha! Those are natural
sulfites. You Americans are so worried about things lasting a long time in the
stores you add so many sulfites to preserve the wine you end up destroying
it. That kind of wine gives you headaches
and makes you drunk. Our wine is pure. It is good for your health. It will
never go to the United States.”
I wanted to raise my hand and
mention that it wasn’t anyone here personally committing this atrocity. But I
wasn’t that dumb.
This lady should have been a
teacher because she had us in the palm of her hand, quivering in fear lest we
ask the wrong questions or in any way annoy her.
And as far as olive oil goes,
only cold pressed was meant for human consumption, excluding Pisans, I assume.
"You use olive oil in
America, I hear, but you probably buy Berio, sold by that traitor to Italy.
Don’t mention that name Berio to me" she almost shouted. "That man
cares only for money. He sold out to Nestle, a Swiss company! A Swiss company!”
she fumed. “They go so far as to substitute oil from Africa and Turkey and dare
to label it Italian. You think it’s all Under
the Tuscan Sun, don’t you? Total rubbish made for you Americans.”
Did I mention that she was
slim, blond and quite lovely?
"You Americans,"
she continued, "You are nice people but you don’t know how to eat. You put
everything in the refrigerator - even olive oil! And if it’s got that Berio on the label I tell
you right now: put it in the garbage. " (Next to the Pisans, I mused.)
Oh you are right about that,
we all agreed silently, fidgeting guiltily for being Americans who put sulfites
in wine and don’t value olive oil properly.
Now came the time for us to
return to those lovely tables under the olive trees. The ones that were
straight out of Under the Tuscan Sun.We
all sat together a little nervous, awaiting our next lecture.
It didn't come. Instead, we
were taught to eat. Italian style.
The long table held bottles
of light white wines and a selection of more full-bodied reds, all produced at
the fattoria.
Baskets of crusty bread sat next to
bottles of the Fattoria Il Poggio’s olive oil - cold pressed and
certainly extra virgin. We were told to dip the bread in the oil. It was absolutely
delicious. Especially with the cold white wine.
A plate of olives and
prosciutto was passed around. Then came bruscetta, followed by homemade pasta
that looked like pieces of lasagna noodle covered with a lovely Bolognese sauce,
(I reminded myself to check out that city’s relations with Lucca.) and lots of
glorious cheese. We had advanced to light red wines by now.
After a while a Bibb lettuce
salad arrived and then a platter of cannellini beans in olive oil next to
roasted ribs, sausage and chicken. A full bodied red accompanied these courses.
The bottles kept arriving and
we kept eating and drinking and getting happier as people are wont to do under
such circumstances.
Dessert was Vin Santo with
biscotti for dipping. Finally the grappa came out. The instructions for proper
ingestion were to drink without breathing. By that point it was a snap.
After at least a bottle of
wine apiece, we became quite convivial and best friends forever. But no one was actually drunk. Nor did anyone
have a headache. Could it be the lack of sulfites?
I left a total convert to
extra virgin olive oil and wines without sulfites. Actually, I never have kept
olive oil in the refrigerator. And I
shun the Berio label but it’s really tough finding a wine that doesn't contain
added sulfites.
I liked Pisa though,
especially Giorgio, or whatever his real Lucchese name was.
I really do remember, I just
don’t want to blow his cover.
