True colours

5th March 2023

After last Sunday’s day of deluge, Monday saw less rain but it was still very wet. The almond tree, however, did its best to keep us cheered. As ever, it is the first thing to burst into flower, though the cold February weather has meant it’s maybe a week behind the usual time. Nevertheless, still looked to advantage against a grey sky as it does against a blue one. As for the rain, that continued for most of the week, with some heavy downpours at times, especially the one on Thursday morning when the three of us returned from our walk looking like the proverbial drowned rats – and making me think that my dog walking coat, after eight years of service, might need replacing as my elbows had somehow managed to get wet.

Apart from the weather, there was not a lot else happening. Tuesday Stephen solved a mystery that was niggling away at me, regarding a jar lurking at the bottom of the small chest freezer in the downstairs lumber room. Last weekend I thought it was time to do a stock take and write up an accurate list of what it contained. The label on the jar in question, written by Stephen, I noted as 2VV+AILO, though it could have been 2UU, but whichever, the contents were a puzzle. I mentioned this to Stephen and after he checked it out, he explained that it was courgettes with garlic.

For those wondering how that works, let me enlighten you. Courgette in Italian are zucchina (yes, that is the correct spelling, zucchini is American English, where they have changed a feminine Italian singular into a masculine plural – look at me, informing, educating and entertaining, Lord Reith would be proud; just call me Gary Lineker) and garlic is aglio, so he just shortened (and doctored) the two words, so the label is actually zuu (don’t ask) + ailo, (almost an anagram, if we are being generous). You can understand now why that thermal label maker he gave me for Christmas is not only a joy but an invaluable tool.

Thursday Stephen sent me, via WhatsApp, some information about this summer’s opera programme at Macerata. We had been looking forward to another night of culture beneath the stars, but are not so sure now, as the choice, Carmen, La Traviata and Lucia di Lammermoor, seems to be how do you want to see a woman suffer and die. I do appreciate that this is one of the major opera tropes, but an alternative might have been a good idea.

After coming home at lunchtime on Friday, not feeling 100%, a long lie in bed yesterday morning helped him to be well enough for us to go shopping in the evening, as planned. There were a couple of things we needed to do, the first of which was to try the pet shop, Isola dei Tesori, to see if they stocked Royal Canin, which our online supplier had stopped stocking. They did, but not the one we use for Bella and Harry. This meant we had to choose another to try from the bewildering selection on offer. Who knew there were so many different makes all making wonderful claims, but then again, that’s no different from when you buy anything.

From there we went to Girasole where I had some loyalty points to use at L’Erbolario before they expired, and as we had some time to kill before our booking at Il Priore, where we thought we might as well get a bite to eat before heading home, we had a wander round the shops. This was a good idea as Benetton had a few things remaining in its sale, and for once not all in extreme sizes. This is why I came away with a midnight blue needlecord shirt and two t-shirts all at half-price, as well as a new padded waterproof jacket for walking the dogs (see above) at 70% off. That was exciting enough but eclipsed by the two t-shirts, one of which was a medium – I’ll say that again, one of which was a MEDIUM – while the other Stephen said I should buy as he found it amusing that I would wear something that had a cock on the front, though I prefer to use the word rooster.

Il Priore was as reliably acceptable as ever, though we did go off-piste a little, as Stephen didn’t think his stomach was quite ready for a hamburger – though it was, oddly enough, ready for escalope of veal in lemon sauce with chips followed by tiramisu. While I also had the escalopes, I went off-off-piste with dessert on the recommendation of the Bertrando’s nice assistant, Cecilia, who told Stephen that the only thing worth eating at Il Priore was the coconut tiramisu. I’m not sure I would agree with that, for while it was an interesting variant, the consistency was something of a surprise.

It was very white and yes, very coconutty, with a slightly chewy uncooked meringue texture rather than a creamy one, and really has nothing to do with tiramisu whatsoever (Cecilia’s words after the event), but the big surprise was the Proustian moment it evoked. Add the chocolate sauce drizzled across the top and it tasted just like a Tunnock’s Snowball, which are now readily available but when I was young we had to wait for our annual summer holidays visiting Mum and Dad’s relatives in Aberdeen to enjoy them as a treat – though they, especially Mum’s Aunty Bella, called them ‘snaabaas’. Now I wonder how Cecilia would say that in Marche dialect?