Just chilling

If we were in any doubts that the holiday season was well and truly underway, these were dispelled on Monday when the temperature hit a wilting 36C. As further confirmation, I had my last lesson in Porto San Giorgio with Michele, which means that I am free to twiddle my thumbs until 3rdSeptember, when I am due to restart with the fantastic four at Mancini Pasta.

So how did we spend our first day of freedom on Tuesday? Shopping, of course. Stephen was in need of a new beach umbrella for the lazy afternoons he has in mind for when I go away to Cyprus to visit Eric to celebrate his birthday. This proved harder than we expected for while the large Chinese supermarket near Porto Sant’Elpidio, for which we made a bee-line, had several to choose from, it was obvious when feeling the quality why they were at such a bargain price; one gust of wind and the fabric was likely to crumble to dust. We did, however, take advantage of its location on a modest retail park to pop into Eurospin for a few bits and pieces.

Eurospin is not a name that has, I believe, previously featured on these pages and it’s the first time I’ve ventured into this particular chain which is (thank you Google) the largest Italian discount supermarket with over 1,100 outlets in Italy and, for some reason, Slovenia. And indeed, the prices were very competitive, including the irresistible three-kilo box of grapes, though the general air of bewilderment amongst its customers made us feel like we had slipped into a parallel universe.

Being on a roll of new shopping experiences, Stephen next took me to what looked like a warehouse on a deserted industrial estate, but was in fact another Chinese supermarket where, after scouring the place for an umbrella, we were eventually directed to them by the girl behind the till, just by the door where we came in. These were of a considerable higher quality than the previous ones and a purchase was made.

Our next stop was again new to us, but a little more upmarket, being the Click Café shop in Campiglione. Our reason for stopping here was two-fold, both of an ecological bent. We wanted to buy a second Chillys Bottle to use when we go beach walking on a Sunday; we had started using one at the beginning of the season to avoid buying a plastic bottle of water on our way back to the car but have found that one is just not enough to quench two thirsts now August had arrived. The second reason is a bit more tortuous – and maybe even less interesting – but I will try to explain.

Like many people, we have a Nespresso coffee machine that we use to make our post-lunch caffè; the problem with this is what do you do with all the capsules? We stopped using Nespresso’s some time ago and bought two reusable capsules to fill ourselves. These were all right but somehow didn’t deliver a powerful enough shot. We then found a make of compatible capsules that were compostable and to our taste. The problem here, as was also the case with the reusable ones, is that although they are described as compatible they are not quite the same shape as the Nespresso ones meaning the amount of water that is extruded into the cup as opposed to the amount that falls into the drip tray varies depending on the whim of the machine, sometimes delivering a meagre thimbleful.

I am fully aware that this is very much a first world problem, but in those lazy ten minutes or so after lunch a good caffè does acquire an importance out of proportion to its size. Hence the visit to Click Café, as I’d seen something on Facebook that led me to believe they had a new biodegradable capsule which I thought we could try. I had, however, been mistaken. As the nice man who owns the franchise explained, what I’d seen was a prototype that was not yet available; it was still in development as they were having problems with the leakage. Join the club. He thought it shouldn’t be long before they were in the shop, however, and we could try again in October. The good news for us and, hopefully, the environment is that by next year the use of plastic for such capsules will be banned, though that will have little impact on Nespresso who use aluminium. How can George Clooney live with himself?

It was then time for us to turn our thoughts to how we were going to spend Ferragosto, the annual Italian holiday when families gather for interminable lunches, preferably at a beachside chalet and featuring a wealth of seafood. It also falls on the same day as the Assumption of Mary, which at first made me think the two were linked but other than sharing the date, this is not the case. Ferragosto was originally a Roman holiday, falling at the beginning of August, instigated by the Emperor Augustus to give the workers a rest after weeks of toil. It was later moved by the Catholic Church to coincide with the Virgin’s feast day, because heaven forbid the undeserving poor should have two holidays in one month.

Our consideration was not which chalet to opt for but what to do instead of spending a minimum of five hours over a protracted plate of prawns. We opted for a modest feast of ravioli from the Marie Teresa pasta shop in the village and some galantina from Sigma. As Marie Teresa is just up the street from Pina, we thought we had plenty of time for a quick caffè as well, but should have remembered that where Pina is concerned, there is no such thing. Still, what is the point of being on holiday if you can’t afford to stand around in a bar while the only person serving is holding an in depth discussion about which of the many fine scarves on offer the lady of a certain age should buy before attending to the three people ahead of you in the queue who have been waiting longer than you.

After a lazy day at home on Thursday (lazy for us but not for the hordes of locusts that had congregated on the lower path when I took Harry and Bella for their lunchtime walk and which took flying leaps at all angles as we disturbed them in the grass) we made another visit on Friday evening to the market in Fermo. This, for one week only, was a day later due to Ferragosto, which may account for why it was a little less well attended than usual. We had a very pleasant time, starting with an aperitivo at Artasylum before a wander through the stalls, stopping to buy some truffles and some jars of truffle paste from the nice young man we have patronised before. I say young, but I couldn’t help noticing as he bent over to write out our receipt that his hair was going very thin on top; it was a bit of a surprise to note how he has changed over the four years we have been going to the market because I look exactly the same.

We ate at what appeared to be a pop-up burger café where two men, who were properly young this time, were cooking the patties outside in the street. We had to go inside to the counter to order, though, which caused some confusion when Stephen asked for two burgers. The man, who I don’t think was a graduate of one of Italy’s many renowned hospitality schools but was jolly and willing, was totally nonplussed. “Bergher?” he repeated. “Sì,” we replied and repeated our request with no more success until light dawned and we asked for “due hamburger.” Problem solved.

I caused a bit more of a problem when I asked for a glass of red wine, not an unreasonable demand I thought, though again it seemed to throw the man into something of a quandary. Eventually, he hunkered down and scrabbled about in the fridge unit, eventually emerging with a large glass flagon of well-chilled red wine. He beamed and proudly announced it as being country wine (the legality of selling which is best ignored), gave me a taste and waited for my confirmation that it was indeed a fine beast. What could I do but agree, and he poured me a generous glassful. As for the burgers (with cheese and with bacon), they lived up to the cooking smells that had brought us, and many others, into the café.

As for the weekend, yesterday was another quiet day at home before our beach walk this morning and before sorting out my packing this afternoon. Tomorrow is a bit of an adventure for me as I set out to travel to Cyprus for my holiday, leaving Stephen to man the fort and the beach with his new umbrella. Not that travelling to Cyprus is a journey into the unknown, even if I am flying with Ryan Air, but the convoluted, and protracted, method of getting to Ciampino airport is.