A Kitchen Debate and What Finally Matters

The greenscape of the valley floor sweeping below is just emerging from the last of the pre-dawn haze, and the sun peeking over the hilltop in the far ground silhouettes the points of the cypress trees in the forground. A rooster crows somewhere in the countryside, and the village church bell strikes the half-hour. The sheep, usually grazing beneath the trees in the afternoon sun, have apparently found bedding in another pasture through the night. Montepulciano crowns the hill across the way. It's early morning in Tuscany -- the opening of our last full day. I haven't been getting up this early, but this morning the balcony lured me.

I am grateful. This is a tiny area, but like all of Italy, it's size is in it's depth rather than it's width. Customs are generations practiced; the small family winery we visited yesterday just up the street was built in the 14th century and the family operating it goes back with it almost that far. What the soil here may lack in nutrients it more than makes up for in wisdom and experience and character and story.

Yesterday we were party to an animated debate. It had nothing to do with foreign policy or the economy, and its contenders were not candidates for political office. It was between two Italian women gesturing broadly and arguing above a stove-ful of simmering pots over whether the squash blossoms in their sauce were getting too dried out and needed more water. We asked the translator what they were saying, but she smiled and prudently demurred. Two women -- one in her 50's and the other in her 80's -- who have been cooking together for countless lifetimes -- at odds over something that matters: not so much the character of the sauce itself, but rather the integrity and reputation of the women. They knew full well that whatever else eventually came out of that kitchen, they would in reality be served on those plates, which meant that they had something precious at stake. It was undoubtedly the most beautiful argument I've ever seen -- and the most substantive debate.

I've witnessed and experienced and learned much else during these Tuscan days -- that some things can't be rushed, that some things need to be measured and some things don't, that some things finally are more important than others and wisdom and beautiful living are about spending time and energy and attention on what endures -- but I will ponder those lessons later. My last day in Tuscany is beginning and I want to pay attention

Playing in the Dough

So, what have we been up to? Well, making pasta to understate the obvious -- pici, tagliatelli, ravioli, gnocci, farfalle, to name a few. A few other things as well -- stuffed squash blossoms, herbed duck, a sauce here and there. And of course we have eaten far too much and exercised too little.

And we have met some enchanting women who have demonstrated and shared the cooking habits they learned from their mothers who learned them from their mothers who learned them...

But mostly we have consumed the context -- the medieval gates, the Etruscan walls, the olive trees, the tidy and tied vineyards gridding the slopes, and the views; the panoramas; the quilted landscapes. And we have inhaled -- deeply -- with gratitude and awe.

And, let's be honest, a little bit of envy.

Today there is no kitchen -- just Florence. The bus ride is wearisome, but for Florence, no complaints. All that leather, all that gold and silk and gelato and art --

--in no particular order. Which is to play in "dough" of a very different kind.

A Fresh Tuscan Arrival

An early start, some emotional farewells, a labyrinthian bus ride, one wrong train, an easy correction, two more trains and a meandering half-hour taxi ride and we are here: Montefollonico, a medieval walled village perched on a mountain above Montepulciano, just a few stones throw from Montalcino. We, along with Susan from California with whom we shared the final train ride and the taxi, were the last of the group to arrive. At the reception we met a dozen or so other aspiring Italian cooks from the U.S., Canada and Switzweland. Dinner begins in 10 minutes, during which we will also receive our orientation, our cookbooks and our apron.

The inn itself looks like a stone building renovated from the middle ages. Our room, complete with full bathroom and a Jacuzzi, even has a balcony with a classic Tuscan hillside view.

I think we are going to like it here.