Acquacheta

Kathy, Rory, and Iris here-
We decided to write together for this post, as we all just had an AMAZING gastronomic experience, on the advice of our friends Michelannette.
We have just come back from an exquisite dinner at Acquacheta. It's an osteria, a tavern, a tiny spot with room for three dozen beefeaters, seated cheek-by-jowl along wooden tables covered with big brown-paper place mats (more about them later). You could call it dinner theatre, or perhaps a dinner circus. The ringmaster met a steady stream of diners who had booked in for the 7:30 sitting and ushered them in like cars into a parking lot, leaving no space empty. There was superb pasta with truffles and beautiful, solid soup of tomatoes and bread and olive oil, great caprese salad with bufalo cheese, and good robust local wine. But the real star of the show was the steak, and like the star of any show, it took the limelight. Up a dozen stairs at the end of the dining room is the open kitchen, exposed for all to behold. At the top of the stairs, front and centre and sitting on a pedestal -- a table-height chopping block -- UNDER A SPOTLIGHT (yes) for our viewing pleasure, is a twenty-kilo chunk of red, raw beef. 
But attention is diverted from the star by three attractive young women, apparently sisters and likely daughters of the master of ceremonies, who serve the tables. One of us couldn't help noticing that all three servers, dressed in black, sported decorations in that little space between tops and pants, in the small of the back. And it seemed, for all the world, that the decorations were in the style of the towns ancient architecure, but maybe someone's imagination was getting carried away. Back to the star attraction. "How much Bisteka alla Fiorentina would you like? What? Five hundred grams?! For three of you??!!  Five hundred grams of steak for three people!!!! The locals will each eat one kilo. I will bring you one kilo." Okay. As the steak orders come in they are delivered to papa who scales the stairs to the spotlit shrine above and takes a slightly overstated cleaver in hand and comes down convincingly on the beast, slicing off a rather overstated T-bone steak, which he slabs onto a sheet of butcher's paper to bring to the table for approval. With a proud flourish, he pulls a pencil from behind his ear and writes on a placemat the digits 1.050 indicating the precision of his cut. Back up the stairs and the meat goes onto a grill and into the fire. It is cooked in an open wood-burning oven (mirroring the wine-cellar shape of the dining room) which also serves as dramatic backdrop to the meat altar itself. The beef is not cooked for long. It arrives at the table on a wooden board sliced thick to expose a little pink but mostly bright red flesh. The crust is brown and well salted and seasoned, the waitress instructs us to drizzle the extra virgin olive oil over the steak, the meat is incredibly tender and delicious and at this point things go all blurry........... 
After the Bisteka alla Fiorentina, there is nothing more, there can be nothing more. The waitress was spot-on about the one kilo. Any less than a kilo would have been punishment, but any more would have been hard punishment. At this point there is nothing left to do but express our deepest gratitude and pay anything they ask. Papa returns to our table with his pencil in hand. We draw back to make room. A flurry of sums appear on the placemat with a quick recitation in Italian or English or both, a re-telling of the dinner, a quick summation: 62.80 euros. And just as quickly and dramatically he strikes a line through the 80 centesimos to pronounce his final price. Eighty bucks Canadian for dinner and a show for three very happy customers? "Ridiculous!"  

Sounds

Kathy here...just sitting on (in?) the loggia, a small exquisite balcony opening out from the kitchen, at twilight (not THAT Twilight, which seems to pop up here often). Two wicker chairs and a small table and a gorgeous view. We are in the old town of Montelpulciano but hovering over the new town (built since the 18th century,I believe). I am  thinking of car horns and vehicle sounds...every culture has it's own vocabulary. Right now I am listening to an emergency vehicle below us. I am used to the sound of the siren changing pitch, getting lower as it moves farther away. This area is so hilly, and there are so many switchback roads that the pitch goes down then comes back up, then goes back down, then goes back up again! Kinda nutty. Funny what you notice in new places. Beware (or anticipate) Rory's thinking and writing on sounds here... 
Rory here - The dogs of Montepulciano have a community choir that practices everyday just before dinner and goes on into the evening. They must be very good by now: that's a lot of practice. The cool thing is that unlike human choirs, they don't need to assemble for rehearsal because their voices carry so well. Lucky for us, the bird choir holds rehearsals at the same time and their much sweeter, more melodious, more subtle, more interesting repertoire, while less forceful than the dog song, saves the day. They, the birds, call out infinitely rich variations while the dogs just shout whatever is Italian for "Hey............hey...........hey!"

Montechiello

Rory here - Road race to Montichiello. No rush, no reason to speed up and down and around along these perfectly narrow serpentine country roads, except that papa is looking for his youth again and this could be the way. It is also the way to a perfect lunch -- uno pranzo perfetto -- fit for a middle-aged king and his family at Osteria La Porta in tiny perfect hilltop Montichiello.

Daria is our host. She smiles when we mention our friends the Riposos and she asks of them. She takes us out to the terrazza so we can watch Tuscany bake in the sun while we take a lovely meal in the shade. Acqua minerale frizzante to start. To continue, a limonata and a bottle of Fattoria di Magliano (mal-ye-o-nee) Pagliatura (pal-ye-a-too-ra). The music of the Italian language makes the wine taste better before we've even cracked the bottle, just as the baking hills and shaded terrazzo improve the food even before it arrives. We need truffles, so we ask for the Tortino di Carciofi con Crema di Pecorino e Tartufo, as if we are singing a Puccini aria. Car-cho-fee are artichokes, pecorino comes from sheep, and tartufo in this case is not ice cream dusted in cocoa, but shaved, dried smelly fungus. All these elements come together in a fine fine soufflé that we conquer with weapons from the bread basket: the ubiquitous Italian pane along with the strangely uncommon whole-grain variety, and croccantina rosmarino like never before. Once again, the language has it. Rosemary crackers don't taste as good. Insalata di Faraona con Verdure Croccanti reduces the nasty and aggressive guinea fowl (why faraona?) into a little mountain of tasty chicken salad. Gnocchi (nyo-kee) is described in the menu as melt-in-your-mouth potatoes. One in our party thought they could gave been melt-in-your-mouthier, but compared to the Roman gnocchi that more closely resembled tough African fufu, these were elegant. Pici had been heartily recommended by the Riposi. Pee-chee: thick hand-rolled fresh pasta like great fat spaghetti al dente (to the teeth) rolled, possibly, by great thick hands on the other side of the kitchen door, dressed in a beautiful freshly made tomato sauce, which tastes even better as soon as you say po-mo-do-ro.                                                                          

Montepulciano & Piazza Grande

Iris here-
Here we are in Montepulciano, a quiet, peaceful, wonderful place. (Not as busy as Rome!)We are staying in an apartment on a mountain that over looks the whole city!
Beautiful!
It turns out that the Twilight Saga, New Moon was filmed here, so a lot of things (including postcards, tshirts, and even menus!) say New Moon and Twilight on them!
And, we also heard that while they were filming here (about 2 years ago), the directors, producers, hair and makeup people stayed in the apartment we're staying in! (The security wasn't tight enough to host the cast!) and today we went to see where they filmed some of it!
They filmed part of it in a town square thing, and if any of you have seen it, it's the fountain scene.(I haven't seen the movie yet, so I can't describe it any more than that!)Apparently, since there isn't actually a fountain here, they had to build one just for the set which they took off after, so when all the tourists came to look at the fountain that was in the movie, and they asked, "Where's the fountain?" , the Italians replied, "What fountain?"!

We are just hanging out today, but we will go on some day trips later on this week. We'll keep you posted.

Ciao fo now!

 

Our digs and days

Kathy here-
  Woke to the sound of the church bells this morning, six of them, but soon realized I had missed the first two as it was now after 8am. We went to bed late last night after watching the USA-Ghana match in the World Cup. Anyone who knows us, knows we are are mostly fair weather sports fans, but being in Italy during World Cup time and being huge Ghana fans in general,  what can we say! We did not watch the game in our fantastic mountain top/garden enveloped apartment, we went down to the main street where the local cooperative bank had sanctioned it's portico for a large outdoor screening of the game, projected on the wall.  Someone had thoughtfully set out at least 40 chairs and so there was a small crowd gathered. Since there is a gelateria and cafe just nearby Iris got her gelato of the day (I believe it was chocolate and limone this time) and we sat down to enjoy. Good thing we were there, as there was a large group of American college students who are in town studying the language, so SOMEBODY had to cheer for the Ghanaians. Who won in the end, although it was a close match for sure. We noticed the students yesterday at the end of the day who were all sitting with their laptops outside the language school door, crowded close together on the old,old stones of the tiny street, obviously  taking advantage of the free wireless. A funny sight for sure. We will see if it works for us today.
Coming out of the bedroom this morning I was almost blinded by the sunlight streaming in the small but incredibly charming living room. Tried to make coffee but it failed miserably compared to what is just down a flight of stairs and a narrow and steep passage to the main street. Have to wait and enjoy later.

The birds are amazing, the smells heavenly and the view is 180 degrees of reddish Tuscan buildings, rolling hills, farms and mountains in the distance, broken only by a very large and healthy evergreen tree, stemming from the garden below, which Rory scandalously suggested should be chopped down so as to better see all the incredible beauty before us. Our hosts are, jn fact, serious and talented gardeners and arriving yesterday through the garden, we passed by BUSHES of rosemary! We'll be cooking with that soon for sure. Its nice actually to have our own kitchen, and last night Rory made a great Papardelle with mushrooms and garlic, as well as a lovely salad with gorgonzola a la Michael. Mmmm. Ciao for now.     

montepulciano

Kathy here....in a small shop called Wine & Web (a great combo don't you think?) One word for now WOW. Spent the day getting to Montelpulciano from Rome including train and car rental (getting a car that thankfully fits Rory). Worth the trip for sure. We took the African style journey stopping along the way for various espresso, panini and pasta stops. But here we are in the very old amazingly high hilltop town. Our lovely American friends friends Michael and Annette steered us here after having spent 6 years coming back to the same apartment within the old town walls. Knowing them and sharing meals with them for almost 20 years, we know they have good taste and so we knew we were in for a treat BUT this is something you have to see to even believe.
I will have to sign off here for now but more to come.....

Iris' view

Iris here-

Today was a great day!!
The weather was hot, but nice.
We got to tool around Rome (or Roma as they call it), including seeing places like the Colosseum, and being on the 110 open double-decker bus ride, where we got a great view of the whole city!
We also watched a movie while sitting in moving seats, so it seems like your travelling with the movie. it was pretty neat, and we learned some cool facts about Ancient Roma! There was also a cool guy bouncing a soccer ball on the top of his head in the streets to collect money.(He never missed!)

The driving here is spontaneous! (Even though there are a couple street lights and stops,) It's like there is no such thing as stopping in a car. It's always "whenever you want to"! (It's ironic that we hear sirens every 5 seconds!)

And of course...the gelato!!!!!!
It's to die for!!!!
So many different flavours!!!!!
Today I had 2. (I should feel guilty, but I know that in the days to come, I will have many more than two in a day, so this should be fine!)
I had two cups with two flavours each. (I only chose cups because we promised our friends who are meeting us here that we would save up at least 14 gelato spoons for them to see!) The first time, I had Bacio (baci, kind of like hazelnut chocolate), and Pesca (peach). It was delicious!The second time, I had Limone (lemon, sour but sweet), and Fragola (raspberry).(Also delicious!)

So long, farewell,...Ciao!

Roma

Rory here-

A city of hotels. We have seen the Hotel Halifax 3rd piano, as the sign says, which probably means the hotel is up three flights of stairs from the front door, as is our Hotel WRH and many other hotels in the area. And we drove by the Hotel Tritone today. I'd sure love to spend a night there, halfway between octaves. I wonder if it's three flights up, or maybe just three whole steps. I was reminded, as soon as I saw the name, of my deep, abiding love for the tritone, the devil's interval: two minor thirds, three whole tones, or a flat five. I was also reminded of the recent advice that tritones don't sit well with choirs so much. Hard to sing. All this because of a hotel which, in fairness, would be called Hotel Tree Tone Eh if written in English. And what if it was written from the top down and backwards. That is the ignominious fate of a surprising number of hotels in this wonderfully chaotic city. Last night it became suddenly obvious that something had gone drastically wrong on Via Nazionale. As we walked up the slight incline, we looked up ahead and saw any number of hotel signs -- the vertical ones, illuminated letters fixed individually to the outer walls to make space on narrow streets for extra-wide traffic -- and the folly was that they were all reading backwards. HOTEL spelled out vertically and backwards is fine for the first bit and after that only slightly deranged, but it was the names of the hotels that really suffered. I wondered for an instant about the reason for such a condition and figured we were just approaching from the wrong end of town, but no. We were on a one-way street and the traffic was with us. Presumably, the traffic in this one-way street once upon a time - and Rome is full of once upon a time - moved in the opposite direction. Perhaps a couple of bored or vengeful traffic planners decided one day to redirect the traffic for a laugh at the hotels' expense. Well we laughed. They all looked just slightly ridiculous. And we laughed again today to find that the same traffic planners had gone to work on a bunch of hotels on another one-way street in a completely different part of the city. It was, in fact, just blocks from Hotel Tritone, which, I can happily report, was spared. 

Roma

Kathy here....I think, anyway. I'm feeling that jet lagged stupor that always comes with this kind of overnight European travel. Compounded by the fact that Italy played in the World Cup just now so the streets of Rome were practically dead...everyone was at home watching, even the pizza maker at the small cafe we tried to eat at earlier this afternoon. (Had to settle for bruschetta with fresh tomatoes, baby arugula, olive oil and a spray bottle of amazing balsamic...drag, really). At the end, when Italy lost the match, there were some haphazard car horns but now things are starting to get lively again. In short, kind of surreal, like a good Fellini film.
Our arrival was pretty smooth, considering none of us has travelled in Europe at all recently. Great train ride from the airport to the main Termini station. No one tried the GOO scam on us and we figured out the ticket system pretty easily. A few blocks later and we were in our very chic hotel being served espresso by our host Andrea while he showed us a map and explained a few things. Our room is small, with high ceilings, and a lovely two shuttered window overlooking the street below with all of its various activities. Cool graphic of a Vespa painted on the wall and a full length three paneled black and white photo of Audrey Hepburn. Not to mention the computer with free wireless in the room. Iris figured that out lickety split. The hotel is in the East African area of Rome, so we are in fact quite at home...small cafes with African and Italian food, men sitting around talking and smoking and hair salons with loads of chatting African women. Thinking to head out for a walk and late dinner now...more later. Baci

On Our Way To Rome

Iris here-
We arrived at the Ottawa Airport this morning expecting to fly to Thunder Bay until we found out that we could get out of that and go straight to Toronto! Thanks to the help of Air Canada's Christine, we flew to Toronto, and here we are now. We've been here for about three hours, and we still have about six and a half more hours to go before we fly off to Rome! It's been quite the journey so far, and we still have tons to go!
Here at the Toronto Pearson, we've been pretty much just chillin'!

here is rory,
Brother steve explained why our first stop on the road to Rome would be thunder bay. He said it didn't matter where we had our first stop, since all roads lead to Rome. Further, family reasons, paternal in particular, would take us to thunder bay, a city that used to be two towns, a fort and a port. Only some people would know the names of those erstwhile towns, fort William and port Arthur. And only some would spot the nominal connection to our father, William Arthur Magill.