Food for thought

I feel I ought to start off this entry with an apology. This week seems to have been remarkable in its ordinariness, which in itself is not necessarily a bad thing; it just doesn’t make for exciting reading. I suppose there has to come a time when the diurnal round at LCDDB sinks into routine – though I would hazard a guess that there are still many things waiting to ambush us that will keep us on our toes for some time to come in our Italianisation.

What has, however, been keeping us busy this week is the inordinate amount of tomatoes the vines continue to produce. I can’t help feeling that next year we might manage with a few less, unless we want to go into the bespoke canning business. In an attempt to put some to good use I spent a happy couple of hours turning 2kg of them into chutney on Thursday morning, only to have to do the same with another 3kg this afternoon. Chutney is, as far as the Italians are concerned, a demonic aberration against nature, a concept reinforced when, the other day, Stephen was explaining to Mirco’s mum at the factory what I had been doing. “It’s that stuff that’s like marmellata but with fruit, isn’t it?” she asked. “Yes, and with vinegar,” replied Stephen. There was a pursing of the lips and a slight shake of the head at the perversity of the British; no doubt she was mentally checking if she had garlic, holy water and a crucifix ready to hand in case we should try to force a jar on her.

Thursday also saw the return of Marcello, the man with the strimmer, to cut the grass. This had again reached a height where we could seriously consider making our own version of a corn maze. He tackled half of the garden then returned on Friday to sort out the other half – but refused to take any money for his work. I’d been given careful instructions by Stephen, who had left that morning for Milan and MICAM (the footwear show), that I had to make sure I paid him as Marcello had already said that he didn’t want anything for this second cut. I was outmanoeuvred, though, for as I rushed outside when I heard him finishing, he was already in his car and setting off. He stopped when I hailed him, but it was only to say that we were ‘troppo gentile’ and that he didn’t want any money. Well, I think he’s the one who’s ‘too kind’, coming and working for nothing, though it again shows the inherent generosity of the Italians. It does, however, leave us in a quandary: how can we ask him to come and cut the grass again if he won’t take payment? It looks like a job for Stephen when he returns from Milan.

Being the day this week that things happened, on Thursday evening we made our third trip to Fermo market, but this time fitting in dinner at l’Enoteca Bar a Vino as well. We’d tried to eat there on our last trip but it was fully booked, so we made sure on this occasion by reserving a table – which turned out to be a very shrewd move. The enoteca is situated at the top of the Piazza del Popolo, raised up in an arcade, so sitting outside you have a front row seat to watch the happenings in the square. And the food isn’t half bad either – though we hadn’t anticipated it taking, in true Italian style, two and a half hours to navigate our way through the nine course set menu, complete with the patron’s choice of accompanying wine (a glass of prosecco and of white, and then a whole bottle of red followed by moscatello with dessert – shame one of us had to drive, wasn’t it, Stephen?)

This left us very little time for the market and shopping, but we still managed to get three friendship bracelets for Stephen (in orange, purple and dark green, he was very particular about the colours), a roll of floor covering to put down by the kitchen work units to protect the granito floor and a very large bag of taralli from the mad woman with the pasticceria stall and peach nail varnish (to match her glasses). For those of you not yet fortunate enough to know what taralli are, they are a snack similar in texture to a breadsticks but which are formed into circles, their ends overlapping. We had bought some from this stall the last time we visited the market, and in our humble opinion they are the best so far: light and crispy and melt in the mouth, and incredibly moreish - especially when accompanied by a gin and tonic.

And that is about your lot for this episode. With Stephen away it’s been a very quiet end of the week, apart from the chutney, of course, and the return yesterday morning of my student, Lorella, marking the start of the autumn term at LCDDB. Still, with our first visitors due next week, the wealth of tomatoes showing no sign of abating and a season of mists and mellow fruitfulness to look forward to, September would seem to be full of promise…and if all else fails, there’s always the taralli.