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.
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