Italy Archives - Gray Matters

Why Le Marche Should be your First Italian Destination

Le Marche, italy Countryside — Le Marche Countryside

Italy hasn’t yet opened its doors to visitors who reside outside the EU—but it will. And when it does, le Marche should be the first place you visit. I always recommend le Marche, I’m biased. I fell in love with the region and bought a home here. But le Marche is perfect for recuperation and restoration. It is the travel antidote for Covid-19.

Le Marche, or the Marches in English, is in central Italy, east of the more familiar and touristed Tuscany and Umbria. Its western border is the Sibillini mountain chain, the eastern border is 180 kilometers of gorgeous Adriatic shoreline. In between, rolling hills covered in patchwork-quilt fields define the largely agricultural landscape.

After stressful events and tumultuous times, many of us seek some kind of refuge, a balm for the soul. Le Marche offers you a variety of ways to repair and recover. The radiant blue skies here seem endless, and optimistic. The fresh mountain air revitalizes. The sea breeze calms. The tinkling of cowbells in the distance anchor and soothe.

The beach at Civitanova Marche, Italy — The beach at Civitanova Marche

Undertouristed

It’s easy to social distance in Le Marche. It’s undertouristed. Here you can admire first century frescoes accompanied by one other person—your guide. You can wander suggestive Roman ruins without seeing another tourist. When you stop in one of the region’s 28 Borghi Più Belli d’Italia for an aperitivo in the piazza, you might not be the only one, but there’s a good chance you’re the only one from out of town. If the thought of crossing Venice’s Rialto Bridge, with its slow-moving throng of visitors gives you pause, the diffusion of le Marche’s sights should give you comfort.

There aren’t many large hotels and crowded public transportation here. The best way to visit Le Marche is by car (or bicycle) and most accommodations are agriturismi in the countryside, B&Bs in villages, apartment rentals, and private holiday homes throughout. All of them are required to adhere to local and state regulations that are far stricter than any I have seen in the United States. Renting an apartment or vacation home greatly limits contact with others, and you can make your own Italian meals.

View of Sarnano in Le Marche, Italy — View of Sarnano

Slow Travel

By its nature, le Marche is Slow Tourism. Trying to cram as many Italian cities as you can into one or two weeks means you waste a lot of transit time, you don’t really get to experience the cities you visit, and when you get home, you’ll need a vacation from your vacation.

Slow travel, on the other hand, involves not only literally traveling slowly but also deeply and more sustainably. Stay in one place and bike or drive to nearby towns. Linger over a 2-hour lunch or a 3-hour dinner because there’s no other place you have to be. If a friendly local invites you for coffee, you can accept. Meet local artisans who demonstrate their craft; tour a winery with the owner, who is most likely the same person who makes the wines; visit a frantoio and learn how olive oil is made; hike with a local guide who can point out flora and fauna you’d likely overlook. Slow Travel allows you to immerse yourself in a place, to feel like a local.

Fresh truffles on Homemade Pasta in Le Marche, Italy — Fresh Truffles on Homemade Pasta

O KM Cuisine

If the key to your heart is through your stomach, the Marche will win it. Abundant fresh fish and seafood from the coast makes it way to the midland hills. Toward the mountains, wild game, prized beef, pork, and sheep cheeses dominate. White and black truffles are celebrated seasonally, and often grated on fresh pasta. Locally grown lentils, wheat, produce, and vegetables make it easy to enjoy 0 KM meals.

Excellent wines you can afford

La Marche’s wines aren’t as famous as our neighboring regions but secondo me, they taste better, and are much more affordably priced. They’re also largely sustainable. A heritage of respect for the land and the environment combined with our sea and mountain breezes means the majority of our wines are organic or biodynamic. Vernaccia di Serrapetrona is made from a native grape found only in 66 hectares around the beautiful village of Serrapetrona. The Vernaccia Nera grape makes three different wine styles: a sweet sparkling red, a dry sparkling red, and a still dry red.

Verdicchio is a white wine made from native grapes in two different areas that give the same grape two different tastes. Both Verdicchio and Vernaccia are awarded Italy’s highest quality designation. And that’s just the start of your Marche wine discovery tour. Our local Ribona white makes drinking bland pinot grigio difficult and our local Rosso Piceno wines made with a blend of Montepulciano and Sangiovese cost much less than they would elsewhere.

Wine Tasting with Giovanni at Fattoria Colmone, San Severino Marche, Italy. — Wine Tasting with Giovanni at Fattoria Colmone

There are no Marriott properties in le Marche. Almost every business is locally owned, so a bigger share of your tourism euros stays in the community and makes a much larger local impact. And le Marche could use the help. After a series of devastating earthquakes hit the region hard in 2016, this summer it was poised to capitalize on being named Lonely Planet’s number 2 region to visit in 2020. Then came Covid. Although le Marche is undertouristed, tourism is still a vital, if ailing sector of the economy.

The writer Guido Piovene wrote in 1957: “Italy, with its range of landscapes, is a distillation of the world; the Marche is a distillation of Italy.” It’s still true today. Everything we love about Italy: welcoming people, delicious food, wonderful wines, architectural triumphs, artistic masterpieces, gorgeous scenery, unhurried lifestyle, and however else Italy is distilled for you, is all found in the one Italian region with a plural name, le Marche.

Andrà Tutto Bene

Photo courtesy of a friend of a friend in Italy. Grazie a Marisa e Donatella!

Italy’s response to the coronavirus and their lockdown makes me proud of the Italy I’ve adopted and eager to return there. Knowing my Italian friends, I’m not surprised at how they’ve responded to the quarantine. From balcony sing-alongs, to online fund raisers, Italians are united in making their best of a bad situation. Many have hung posters, often drawn by their children, of a rainbow and the words Andrà Tutto Bene. Everything will be all right.

At this time, when travel to Italy is not possible, and staying at home is wise, this is an opportunity for us Italophiles to “visit” Italy in other ways, to get ready for a future trip, to learn more about Italy and the Italians, and to support them from afar. #DistantiMaUniti Distant but United.

Read a book (or several) about Italy or set in Italy.

When you do get to Italy, you’ll have a deeper understanding of Italians and a more profound sense of place that enriches your travels. Here are some of my favorites:

La Bella Figura: A Field Guide to the Italian Mind – Beppe Severgnini’s hilarious book explains Italian quirks.

SPQR: A History of Ancient Rome – Professor Mary Beard presents an encompassing and engaging history of the Roman empire.

The Leopard – by Giuseppe Di Lampedusa is an Italian classic that explains the changes in Sicily during Italy’s struggle for unification.

I Promessi Sposi (The Betrothed) – Alessandro Manzoni’s historical novel set in the 1620’s of two young lovers trying to marry despite the odds.

History of Italian People – Giuliano Procacci presents a compact yet comprehensive history of Italy from 1000 AD to the post-World War 2 days. If you’re trying to understand Italian politics, this is a good place to start.

When in Rome: A Journal of Life in Vatican City – Robert J. Hutchinson is a journalist who spent a year in Rome and humorously regales us with anecdotes of the Vatican’s inner workings.

If They are Roses: The Italian way with Words – Linda Falcone’s entertaining book offers an ex-pat’s insight into Italian phrases and behavior.

The Italians – Luigi Barzini used his background as a writer and politician to bring us a comprehensive “portrait of the Italian people.” Written in 1964, his words ring true today.

The Food of Italy – Waverly Root’s fascinating culinary guidebook explores the entire country’s food customs.

Watch Italian films and movies set in Italy.

Amazon has a variety of Italian-language movies that you can stream for free with a Prime subscription or rent for a low price. If you buy Italian DVDs online be aware that you’ll need to get a Type 2 DVD player in order to view them. An extra benefit to watching movies in Italian is you can pick up the language!

Here are some of my favorite Italian-language films with English subtitles:

Noi e la Giulia – A comedy about a diverse group of people who open a B&B in the country, despite the mafia.

Benvenuti al Sud – A hilarious movie about a postal worker from the north sent to work in the south of Italy.

Perfetti Sconosciuti – A group of friends reveal their secrets when they agree to share their texts, calls, and emails on their phones at a dinner.

Se Dio Vuole – A comedy about a son who tells his father he wants to become a priest.

Cinema Paradiso – A beautiful classic about a famous director who returns to his Sicilian home. In a flashback, we learn how he came to love movies.

Il Postino – The son of an island fisherman becomes the postman for Pablo Neruda in exile and learns poetry to woo his crush.

La Grande Bellezza – Won the Oscar for best foreign language film. On his 65^th birthday, the main character takes stock of his party life.

Visit Italy’s most treasured museums virtually.

Thanks to Google’s Art and Culture initiative, you can view masterpieces up close in Florence’s Uffizi Gallery and Venice’s Doge Palace, among many others. Download the app on Android or iOS for virtual-reality tours.

The Vatican Museums have their own 360° virtual tours, including the Sistine Chapel, on their website.

Use the hashtags #museichiusimuseiaperti and #laculturanonsiferma to discover museums that are making their collections accessible online.

Here is a video of a beachfront town 30 minutes from our Italian vacation home, Casa Pace e Gioia. The streets are normally bustling.

If you’d like to cook some Italian meals at home, the first cookbook I recommend is Marcella Hazan’s Essentials of Classic Italian Cooking. She wrote her recipes with such clear instruction, it’s as if she’s over your shoulder helping you. Her ingredients are simple and can be found at your grocery store. I had no cooking background when I started, and she’s never failed me.

Spotify has an impressive collection of Italian music if you’d like to listen while you cook. And there are a myriad of interesting podcasts in Italian that cover every subject you can think of.

Why not study Italian while you’re self-quarantined? I started with Pimsleur and was able to get through Sicily on my own with what I’d learned. As I progressed, I took free online classes from WellesleyX online. Now I study via Skype with a private tutor through Dante Learning. Knowing some of the language makes any trip to Italy a richer experience.

Help the Italians and buy Italian products! If there’s any pasta left at the store, buy one made in Italy. Buy Italian wines! We’ll need a lot of both to get through this. Nutella is good comfort food, as is Italian chocolate. And chances are, they might still have it on the shelves. Parmigiano-Reggiano can be stored in the freezer and ages really well.

Consider a donation to the Italian Red Cross, who is bringing food, medicine, and supplies to those who need it. While Italy’s health care system is the second best in the world, the scope of this crisis is unprecedented and supplies are lacking.

Lastly, plan your next Italian vacation! Every storm runs out of rain and soon Italy will be eager to welcome you.

Here is a link to Italy’s National Tourism site in English, with updates for travelers regarding COVID-19.

It Takes a Village to Save a Cat

Before I left Italy, our neighbor friend Claudia had readily agreed to help me find a home for the cat. I told her that if she did not find one, I would somehow bring Gattina to Florida. In the meantime, Claudia or her husband fed the cat daily.

Every morning as my Florida cats howled for their breakfast, I first checked my phone for a message from Claudia. I had emailed her some pictures of Gattina. She sent one to a mutual friend who owns a restaurant and displayed it “for adoption” at their cash register. Another photo went to an animal group Claudia knows.

Gattina's picture at the restaurant — Gattina’s picture at the restaurant

Our workers were at the house. I wondered if they fed her, or petted her, or stepped on her. I worried about the rubble pile, her safe haven. They would soon remove it; the backhoe was staged when we left.

A week passed. Gattina came around every time Claudia arrived to feed her. I researched the labyrinthine requirements to bring a cat to Florida. At minimum, I would have to change my return ticket and stay longer.

Two weeks before we returned to Italy, I got an email from Claudia. She had asked her friend Mary, a fellow animal lover, for ideas for our cat. Mary spoke to the couple who own the horse farm where she rides and they agreed to take her. After visiting the vet and getting her shots, she would join a dog and another rescue cat and get trained to be around horses. The couple would feed and care for her and she would have a warm dry place to call home.

When we pulled into our driveway she ran toward us. She still climbed my legs and walked between them. She still slept in the nearest window, and were it not for our screens, she would have walked inside. She still jumped in my lap.

I spoke to her in Italian so she would understand her new cat mom and dad. She played with the sprinkler flags planted in the ground and walked on our furniture like she owned it. I tried in vain to teach her to walk alongside me.

A few days before we would leave Italy and Gattina, we lured her out of her hiding spot down the road and Claudia and I took her to the vet. She howled in Claudia’s cat carrier for the twenty minute drive.

The vet gently lifted Gattina from the carrier and frowned as her hands felt around the trembling cat. She shook her head, speaking in Italian to Claudia. “She’s pregnant,” I said, recognizing the word. Claudia nodded, her lips pursed. Since about the time she found us for food. “She’s too thin,” the vet said and put Gattina back in the carrier and opened her datebook. Her first availability to spay Gattina was in a few days. I would be in Florida. Claudia would have to coax her from her den.

I said goodbye to Gattina on our patio. I gave her a lot of pork leftovers, petted her, and told her to be good for her new mommy. My tears dropped onto the terracotta tiles.

The day of her operation I kept one eye on my email. It had taken Claudia an hour to get the cat out of hiding and into the carrier, but her surgery went fine. She would recuperate at the vet’s office for a two days, then Mary would pick her up and keep her for a few weeks.

Claudia forwarded me Mary’s first update on Gattina, she was wondering what to call her. Claudia asked if she could name her Ellie. At Mary’s house, Ellie had her own bathroom and even jumped to sleep in a basket in the windowsill. The vet came to Mary’s house to give Ellie her vaccinations and she would rest at Mary’s for a couple of weeks before going to the horse farm.

Just before Mary was to bring Ellie to the farm, Karen, a expat friend of Mary’s fell in love with Ellie and wanted her. So Ellie joined three other cats in Karen’s house with a cat door and no cars nearby to worry about. The last I heard, Ellie was eating like a horse, playing with the beaded curtains, and impatiently waiting for permission to play outside. I’d like to think she sleeps in the windowsill.

For the beginning of this story, read My Italian Cat.
To see our vacation house in Le Marche, visit Casa Pace e Gioia.

Le Marche’s Soundtrack

“We have no earlids.”

North Valley view from Casa Pace e Gioia

I read that sentence in two different sources, in a week during which I had suffered recurrent auditory assaults. Our Florida home is near a freeway and the steady whir of traffic is my soundtrack. In a fit of collusion, our neighbors took advantage of the clear weather that week to use power generators, concrete pumpers, weed-whackers, pressure washers, skid steers, and chainsaws.

We can’t close our ears against noise as we shut our eyes to avert witnessing something, or plug our noises to avoid unpleasant smells. For those of us lucky to be hearing-abled, our only defense against audible onslaughts is deep sleep or good headphones, which might explain why so many people wear them as an accessory now. They’re replacing unwanted noises with chosen sounds.

In a way that’s what I do when I go to our Italian home, Casa Pace e Gioia, in the countryside hills of Le Marche. Even though our house is close to a road, it’s not often traveled and I can predict who’s driving by the sound. The cowbells that jingle across the valley bring me comfort. The woodpecker’s tap-tap-tapping each morning nudges me awake. Unfamiliar birds chirp as they flit about, a new soundtrack to learn.

I had been taking pictures, crouched down in our grapevines, when I heard an animalistic, metallic sound. I stood up and surveyed the area. Nothing. No stray fox or cat or deer, all of which I have seen among the vines. I bent down and heard it again. Above my head large grapevine leaves flapped in the wind. Grapevine leaves make sounds?

Without the whine of an air conditioner, we sleep with the windows open. Dogs near and far bark in an animated discussion I do not understand. Rhythmic beeps we originally thought were hunter’s beacons became Scops owls, calling as they hunt. An unidentified animal that shrieks in the night we now recognize as a little owl.

As I hang laundry on the clothesline one morning, Colmurano’s church bells chime eight times. I always count, then check my watch, as if to audit their timekeeping. But the bells give me a pause to be present. The wind hasn’t picked up yet; my pinwheel is silent and motionless. The farmer’s tractor whines by, an empty trailer clangs behind. He takes a left at the bottom of the hill, then ascends it to collect the alfalfa bales that had been sitting like monopoly houses in the empty field.

One of our guests had left a pair of headphones at the house. “I don’t know why I took noise-cancelling headphones to the Marche,” he wrote me, “there’s no noise to cancel.” He’s right, there isn’t noise. In Le Marche we appreciate peaceful sounds.

Sign up to receive my blog postings by email here.
Read about how we found ourselves owning a house in Italy here.

A Secret Wine from a Secret Italy

My husband Matt gripped the steering wheel and turned it so quickly it reminded me of an arcade car game. We took a tight corner and I thought I would get carsick. After a series of switchbacks, Matt sped down a straight stretch. We hit a bump and the car flew for a long second, my stomach butterflied.

The 12:04 arrival time on our GPS narrowed another minute. We had no medical emergency or otherwise acceptable reason to drive the way some Italians enjoy. We were headed to Serrapetrona, 20 minutes from our home in Le Marche to visit Alberto Quacquarini’s tasting room without an appointment, and with the knowledge that they closed for lunch at 12:30.

**Azienda Agricola Alberto Quacquarini**
Image courtesy of Az. Agr. Alberto Quacquarini

Vernaccia di Serrapetrona is a red sparking wine, made with Vernaccia Nera grapes indigenous to Serrapetrona, found nowhere else, and cultivated on only 163 acres. It is made in two different styles: dry, to drink with food; or sweet, to enjoy with dessert. Serrapetrona, without the Vernaccia di, lacks the bubbles but retains the fruity, slightly bitter flavor. Stefano at Il Sigillo had introduced us to Serrapetrona, but we had not yet tried the sparklers.

We arrived at 12:02. A curly haired gentleman stood up behind a desk in the back and beamed as he approached us.

“Salve,” he said, using the polite friendly greeting I’ve heard more in Le Marche than anywhere else in Italy.

I explained in Italian that we would love to learn more about, and try some Vernaccia.

“Yes, certainly,” he said, looking down at his watch. “We can do a quick tasting. Unfortunately, we close at 12:30 for lunch.”

His name was Massimiliano. “Max, in English,” and he invited us to sit at the large tasting table. “We can do the tasting in English if you’d like,” he said and filled two glasses with a red wine. He was generous; I swirled it carefully.

“This is our Serrapetrona, the basic wine, made with 100% Vernaccia nera grapes.” We sipped it and loved it and Max went behind the counter to prepare a local salume, two local cheeses, bread, and crackers.

**Serrapetrona and Vernaccia di Serrapetrona**

“We pick the harvest by hand in October, but we hang 40-45% of the grapes to dry for three months. The Serrapetrona is what we make after the first fermentation, so it’s not sparkling, and without any dried grapes.”

Anything but basic, this was the wine Stefano had paired with a juicy steak, meaty wild boar, gamey rabbit, and savory pasta. Serrapetrona is strong but not overpowering, smooth, full-bodied, with spice and floral notes, not too dry, a pleasantly bitter aftertaste, and eminently affordable.

Max poured us the dry version of the sparkling Vernaccia di Serrapetrona. My watch read 12:23. His eyes twinkled like a magician teaching us a trick but swearing us to secrecy.

**Alberto Quacquarini Vernaccia di Serrapetrona**
Image courtesy of Az. Agr. Alberto Quacquarini

“To make the Vernaccia di Serrapetrona, we take the dry grapes, whose flavors are more concentrated and sweet like raisons, and mix it with the basic wine for the second fermentation. It’s then aged in steel tanks for months to undergo its third fermentation. We make this dry version, and a sweet one. From harvest to sale it takes more than 18 months,” He brought us over a new salume to try. “It goes particularly well with pork, especially ciabuscolo.”

Lighter and more delicate than the Serrapetrona, I tasted pepper with cherries. Max sat down with us and we learned his English is so good because his wife teaches it. He suggested we come back in November when the village has a Vernaccia festival and we could see the grapes hanging to dry.

**Vernaccia Grapes drying at Alberto Quacquarini**
Image courtesy of Az. Agr. Alberto Quacquarini

It was well after 12:30 when he poured us a glass of the Petronio passito, made from dried Vernaccia nera grapes and aged in oak barrels for 3 years. The bell on the door rang and a group of Italian tourists entered, seemingly relieved to find the tasting room open. Max met them at the counter and wineglasses clinked as he started their tasting.

I wandered the tasting room filled with wines and their awards, local pastas, the salume and cheese we had tried, and also gourmet chocolates that the Quacquarini family makes.

The Italians asked if they could take our picture. We posed with our wine glasses and made an international toast. They bought some wine and left, bidding us “ciao, ciao, arrivederci,” as strangers often do in Le Marche.

Max poured us the sweet, sparkling Vernaccia. “A dessert wine. Very good with biscotti.” He brought us some cookies. It was sweet but not cloying, fresh and crisp. I envisioned it as the perfect ending to a rich meal typical of Le Marche.

At 2 PM we left with several bottles of wine, the two salumi, and not nearly enough chocolate. We thanked Max for giving up his lunch hour. He waved his hand and suggested we lunch at La Cantinella in Serrapetrona.

**Ravioli with Vernaccia di Serrapetrona meat sauce**

When we arrived at La Cantinella, the Italians we had seen earlier were finishing their lunch. They waved and greeted us like old friends. I ordered the ravioli with a Vernaccia meat sauce. The house Serrapetrona wine was delicious and only €3 for half-liter.

“You know,” I said to Matt over lunch, “Vernaccia di Serrapetrona is a lot like Le Marche itself: unknown, unique, quality, delicious, and secret.”

If you missed my last post about La Cucina Marchigiana, read it here.

For a map of our favorite restaurants click here.

If you’d like updates on the opening of our vacation home Casa Pace e Gioia, click here.

La Cucina Marchigiana

Silvano came to our table and told us what was in the soup that my husband Matt and I were devouring. I mentally double-checked my translation. Chicken broth, eggs, Parmigiano, nutmeg, bread crumbs, with a little lemon. I thought I had missed an ingredient. Surely a soup this savory needed something else.

“Bread crumbs,” Silvano said in English, grinning as he raised his eyebrows.

Sì, sì, I had it right.

“An ancient recipe, from medieval times, typical of this region. It was served at wedding lunch celebrations. Stracciatella,” he said it slowly. Stra-chee-a-telllll-a.

We were eating at Picciolo di Rame, a restaurant that everyone in Le Marche had insisted we try. In a 16^thcentury former olive oil mill, in a 13^thcentury castle, we were surrounded by candlelight, stone walls, and the convivial conversation of the twenty-three other diners, all of us seated on three-legged stools.

Cuisine in Le Marche is as diverse as its geography. The region resembles an apostrophe—its five provinces curl around Ancona’s peninsula along the Adriatic Sea. (Ankon means ‘elbow’ in Greek.) In the eastern coastal areas, fresh seafood abounds. In the mountainous west, wild boar, game, and truffles dominate. The rolling agricultural hills in the center provide wheat, olives, poultry, pigs, produce, sheep, cattle, and more.

Picciolo di Rame is in the medieval walled hamlet of Vestignano, not far from the Sibillini Mountains. Silvano’s mother oversees the kitchen while he hosts and explains each of the 12 tasting courses typical of the Macerata province our Italian home is in. More than a memorable meal, we were also getting a local history lesson.

A few courses later we learned from Silvano that centuries before pasta alla carbonara debuted in the 1950s, Marchigiani shepherds ate pasta dei pastori alla Griscia. Shepherds on their transhumance carried guanciale (cured bacon), oil or lard, pasta, pecorino cheese, and salt. With that, they made something very similar in flavor and texture to carbonara, but without the eggs—they do not travel well.

Le Marche’s mezzadria (sharecropping) heritage that endured until the 1960s influences La Cucina Marchigiana today. Small farms dominated the landscape; one hectare (2.47 acres) per family member was the norm. The sharecroppers gave half of the farm’s proceeds to the landowner as rent. The mezzadri eked out a living with frugality, resourcefulness, and hard work. Livestock was well fed to enhance their flavor, and nothing was wasted.

Vincisgrassi is a multi-layered lasagna made with thin pasta sheets, any variety of meats, and is molto famoso in Macerata province. Labor-intensive and time consuming, it was served only on special occasions. Our eighth course at Picciolo di Rame was a harvest version, traditionally enjoyed after the wheat threshing was complete. Usually the dish is prepared the evening before and rests overnight to allow the flavors to blend. It is much lighter than American lasagne; when the chef brought out more from the kitchen, we took a second helping. (It was the crunchy corner! We could not refuse.)

In the mezzadria days, the vergara, the woman of the house, collected wild herbs daily and prepared a salad with olive oil. Foraging is not a new trend in Le Marche, it has long been a way of life. One morning, I noticed a car parked down by our grapevines. An older man with a white plastic bag was snipping something that grew wild on our property. Rather than be concerned, I wanted to ask him what it was we had worth taking. But we had an appointment; my asking in broken Italian would have taken more than the few minutes I had to spare.

A parked car along a road in the middle of nowhere is a clue you’ve found a good foraging spot. Look around and someone is collecting wild berries, herbs, nuts, beans, vegetables, or what looks like a weed, but isn’t. I hear it gets competitive.

Our tenth course was fried lamb chops, fried zucchini, and fried leeks. “Fried foods were always served at weddings.” Silvano told us. “The housewives said that frying anything made it taste good.” Fried Olive Ascolane are ubiquitous in our area, and deservedly so. Fried cream is as good as it sounds, and is a delicious starter or dessert. Fritto misto in Le Marche is incomparable to anywhere else.

The Maceratese do not finish their meals with a cheese course but with ciabuscolo, a finely ground pork salame so soft it is spreadable on bread. We managed to find room to indulge.

For a map of Le Marche click here.
For a map of our favorite restaurants click here.
Sign up to receive my blog postings by email here.
If you’d like updates on the opening of our vacation home Casa Pace e Gioia, click here.

Italians do Garbage Better

Two weeks after we bought our Italian farmhouse my husband Matt and I were still trying to understand how the garbage worked. This is doubly embarrassing because in Italy we generate much less waste than we do in the United States. Italians use less packaging, they do not sell items in bulk, and reusable bags are the norm when shopping. If you forget your reusable bags, you have to buy plastic or paper ones, or try to carry your purchases without dropping anything.

During our walk-through of the house, the sellers briefly explained that the garbage was color-coded. Glass went into the tall green container at the garbage collection bin 800 meters up the hill. Paper and cardboard, when it was not burned in the stove, went into a paper bag. Plastics and metal recyclables went in blue bags. Everything else went in yellow bags. Free bags were available at the old service station down the road that has beads hanging in the doorway.

We recycle avidly at home in Florida so raccolta differenziata rifiuti (waste sorting) seemed easy enough. We put our food waste in the required biodegradable plastic bags that we quickly learned ripped to shreds. Every day we took a triple-layered bag to the bin so it would not stink up the house or attract bugs. Every day we would see them, piling up in the bin, right where we had put them.

We share the garbage bin with about 6 other families and we were concerned that our unusually large new-house trash might cause trouble with our new neighbors. The first week, our yellow bags in particular piled up and filled the bin.

In searching the web to find out what exactly could go in the blue bags, I discovered that the garbage guys collected certain bags on certain days. Yellow bags and paper are only picked up on Mondays and Thursdays respectively. Blue bags are taken Wednesdays and Saturdays. The handy graphic said nothing about the biodegradable sacks that still sat there degrading at the bottom of the bin.

Giuseppe our farmer-neighbor-friend came over and I showed him the website that I had bookmarked on my laptop. He looked at it and nodded. I asked him when they pick up the bio bags. He shook his head. “In the country, they don’t collect the bio bags.” He waved his hand around. “They expect farmers to compost it.”

The garbage guys finally took our bio bags. That or some wild animal got into them. Either way, they finally disappeared. We starting composting our bio bags or dropping them in a designated container on our drive into town. Using raccolta differenziata, our city of Tolentino recycles 74% of its waste. Figures are updated monthly and published online. In contrast, our county in Florida recycles less than 2% of its waste.

We now stockpile our trash and drive it up the night before our appointed day. We still don’t know what day glass is gathered but we know that one of neighbors likes Moretti beer on the weekends. We don’t judge because they know we like our wine.

See a map of the area here.

If you’d like updates on the opening of our vacation home Casa Pace e Gioia, click here.

A Tale of Two Verdicchio Wines

Photo By: Heather von Bargen — White Wine Grapes

One of our first nights in Le Marche we dined at Seta Cruda, a restaurant famed for its innovative seafood. The owner, Elia, extolled the virtues of Verdicchio, a white wine made in two nearby regions, and wanted us to try one from each area. “Verdicchio from Jesi is influenced by the sea, Verdicchio di Matelica is influenced by the mountains,” he said. “Every time you return, I will have a new Verdicchio for you to try.”

Verdicchio, the wine most identified with Le Marche, has grown here for centuries. In the past it was stored in curvy amphora-shaped bottles. You may recall the mass-produced fish-shaped bottles of Verdicchio? It’s the same grape, but a different wine. Verdicchio can be made into easy-drinking table wines but producers who focus on quality make notable, ageworthy, and complex wines that are worth seeking out. Both the Matelica and Jesi riserva varietals have been awarded DOCG status, Italy’s highest quality designation.

Photo courtesy of Brunori Azienda Vitivinicola

One recent weekend, Matt and I took my aunt and uncle who were visiting for a Verdicchio tasting to discover how the same grape makes different wines thirty miles apart. Our first stop was at Brunori, where we met Cristina Brunori and her father Giorgio. The estate was founded in 1956 by Cristina’s grandfather Mario, who was one of the first in the area to quit selling bulk wine and instead bottle quality wines.

In the climate-controlled cantina their wines ferment in stainless steel and age in huge cement tanks built into the wall. “We don’t want to introduce any flavors to the wine,” she said. Upstairs in the bottling area, they use natural corks in their bottling machine. “Wine is a natural product. We prefer to use a natural closure,” Giorgio said. “Wine is a living thing.”

We tried three generously poured Verdicchi in their tasting room, accompanied by breads, meats, and cheeses typical of the region. My aunt and uncle, who normally prefer red wines, liked the Verdicchi. I tasted something unusual at the end of my first sip. “What is that? Nutmeg?” I guessed. Giorgio smiled. A hallmark of a good Verdicchio is a bitter almond finish.

With an alcohol content as high as 14.5%, and a structure to match, these wines are meant to be paired with food. While seafood is the obvious choice, it would stand up to meat. We decided coniglio(rabbit) would be perfect. I asked Cristina for a lunch recommendation. She suggested Vino e Cucina in the nearby walled town of Staffolo and even called them to make sure they were open and had room for us.

Three hours after our arrival, we left Brunori with 18 bottles of the wines we had sampled. At an average price of around €10, their wines typified Le Marche: under-the radar; made by talented artisans; super-high quality, and a great value. I called our next appointment, Bisci, from the restaurant to explain we would be late.

Verdicchio di Matelica’s 300-hectare growing area is almost 10 times smaller than that of Castelli di Jesi, making these Verdicchi less known. Founded by two brothers in 1972, Bisci is also an organic winery, and larger, with around 20 hectares (about 50 acres) of vines. They too, hand-pick their grapes and ferment and age in concrete.

Our tasting was rushed because of our late arrival, but Andrea poured us two whites and two reds. My favorite was a single-vineyard Verdicchio that had aged for more than 12 months in the bottle. Similar to Verdicchi from Jesi, these from Matelica also exhibited the characteristic bitter almond finish. The Bisci Verdicchio had a pronounced green apple flavor, with more minerality. We bought 6 bottles; each label was numbered, one of a limited bottling. After our tasting we wandered the winery to watch their harvest work in progress.

Plots of parallel grapevines are the stripes on the patchwork quilt that is Le Marche’s rolling landscape. Until the 1950s this area had been farmed by mezzadri, sharecroppers who gave half (un mezzo) of their proceeds to the landlord as rent. Their hardworking legacy lives on in the many small wineries that dot Le Marche’s valleys.

Sign up to receive my blog postings by email here.
See a terrain-view map of the two Verdicchio regions here.
To get updates on our vacation rental home Casa Pace e Gioia, click here.

Searching the Sibillini Mountains

The Sibillini Mountains reassure my orientation as I get my bearings. But Le Marche’s southwestern border disappears often. Morning fog and afternoon clouds obscure not only their Stegosaurus summits but also any hint of their foothills. I peek reflexively from our house.

Part of the Apennine Mountain chain, the Sibillini are protected by a 270-square mile National Park (70,000 hectares). Twenty of its peaks are more than 6,562 feet (2000 meters) high. Inhabited since the Neolithic era, the Sibillini became known in the Middle Ages as the kingdom of fairies, mystics, and the prophetess Sibyl, who lived in a hidden cave near the top of Mount Sibilla.

Knights seeking adventure, writers seeking stories, and travelers seeking answers all ventured to the Sibillini. A dozen towns scattered around the park and a system of shelters has long provided hospitality in this mysterious area. Today, ambitious hikers can trek the “Great Ring,” a 124 – kilometer long path that encircles the park. The rest of us can bike or walk the dozens of signposted trails; visit museums and old churches; bird watch; eat local food; view wildlife; and admire rare wildflowers.

In February my husband Matt and I drove up into the mountains. It was snowing, dissolving in lower altitude, accumulating as we ascended. Nine particularly wicked switchbacks were numbered ominously. After the ninth we parked at a closed ski resort. Empty chairlifts stuck in midair.

A van parked next to us and children dressed head-to-toe in snow suits bumbled out, grabbed their sleds, and trudged to the edge of the hill where they disappeared. Families had taken over the ski resort to go sledding. Never had I wanted so badly to wear a giant snowsuit.

When we return in May the summits are less snow-capped and the snowmelt creates waterfalls along the road. We stop at one and I take a picture of Matt touching the icy water. It flows too fast to fill a water bottle. A driver passing by notices what we’re doing. He slows, smiles broadly, and nods in approval.

The Fiastra Lake is ethereal aquamarine when we reach it and walk the pebbly shore. Birds soar overhead, the only visible sign of life. The mountains’ reflection ripples on the surface, the air smells crisp.

Small manufactured buildings line the main street of Fiastra. Temporary structures installed to house businesses until the buildings damaged by the earthquakes two years ago are restored to anti-seismic standards. Down an empty cross street, wood braces support still-beautiful pastel buildings. We wait in the car, stuck in a one-way street behind a gentleman who has gotten out of his car. He is looking for a place he cannot find. A man emerges from one of the buildings. They speak. The man shakes his head, points his finger. The driver nods. He walks back, not to his car but to ours, and apologizes for our delay.

Just outside of Fiastra, we follow a sign and drive up a steep narrow path I’m not certain was intended for vehicles. Tree branches slap our car. We park at the top, near an old church. A path lined with purple and blue wildflowers leads to the remains of the ninth century Castello Magalotti. Two of the original 7 towers still stand and a long stone wall runs along a walking route.

Driving deeper into the park, we pass alpine meadows, beech woods, wildflower gardens, limestone mounds, trees with cascading yellow flowers, and the same wild Sibillini Orchids that grow on our property. They are deep purple, almost burgundy on the top of the plant. As they open, they lighten to a creamy white with purple spots. They look like angels with a purple halo.

We reach a crossroads. The way left is blocked, earthquake rubble strewn in the road. Taking a right, we pass through a mostly deserted town. Walls collapsed, roofs missing, buildings torn in two. My camera sits like a privileged weight in my lap. I close my eyes as we pass; I don’t want to feel like a gawker.

That evening from our Le Marche home the Sibillini summits catch the last light of the setting sun. Pink clouds halo above the peaks. Two months later I read that the resilient residents of the Sibillini, who for centuries have excelled at and relied on tourism, are reopen for business. Ninety percent of the tourist facilities are ready to receive the travelers who come the Sibillini, searching for something.

See a map of the region here.
Read my prior story about Aperitivi in Urbisaglia here.
Sign up to receive blog postings by email here.

Aperitivi in Urbisaglia

It was dark the first time we went to Urbisaglia, a partially walled hilltop town. My husband Matt and I walked toward the piazza, following dubious GPS coordinates. To our left a tall round tower was illuminated. I deviated down the side street to approach it. Behind it loomed a massive castle.

We couldn’t stay. We had dinner reservations—as it turns out, down the hill on the main highway. The enchanting village of Urbisaglia would have to wait.

Urbs Salvia was an important Roman city, likely founded in the first century BC at the crossroads of two major routes that spanned the region. Roman walls still stand guard along the main highway at the bottom of the hill, now an archeological park. Remarkably preserved ruins include temples, a theater, and an amphitheater that held gladiatorial events. Every summer, actors perform classical plays in the amphitheater.

The Amphitheater at the Parco Archeologico

The Visigoths destroyed Urbs Salvia in 409 AD, and the citizens fled up the hill for safety. The lower city’s prosperity was preserved under a landslide for future discovery. Dante writes about Urbisaglia’s demise in Paradiso: “…Seeing that even cities have an end.”

The castle on the top of the hill was finished in 1507, built on the site of ancient Roman remnants and hints of a twelfth century fortification. It is an asymmetrical trapezoid with four towers at the corners. We had passed the largest one.

Built by the city of Tolentino, who ruled Urbisaglia at the time, the castle’s layout was designed to not only defend against outside threats, but also to repress internal rebellion from the resentful citizens of Urbisaglia who wanted autonomy. They would not obtain it until 1569.

Called La Rocca, the castle overshadows the city’s main Piazza Garibaldi. An adjacent church faces the piazza. On the opposite side is a bakery we go to for an aperitivo. Matt always orders a spritz. He says the guy there makes a good one. I always order a prosecco. We sit outside, always at the same table, the one closest to the church. It’s become “ours.”

Waiting for my drink, I go to the cash machine across the street to my right. It’s molasses slow but reliable. The pharmacy, a post office, and a clothing store are on the left side of the piazza. A good restaurant is down the block. A gelateria and another bar is on our walk back to the car.

The waiter carries our drinks with the reverence of an offering plate. Or it could be that he does not want my prosecco to tip over. His tray is laden with small pizza triangles, focaccia rectangles, potato chips, olives, peanuts, and breads of all sorts. I picture him looking at what he has on hand and deciding what freshly baked goods we should try this time. He plates it just so. It’s his work. That and Italians never drink alcohol without food.

We arrive after school is out and before dinner starts. We can smell it cooking. Young kids play soccer in the square. They make up rules Matt understands and he explains them to me. The ball hits the church frequently. It flies our way often. Once, the ball hit the bakery’s facade and I thought the door would break. One time, the ball went through the open door and into the store.

Men gather and talk politics. I try not to eavesdrop but pick up helpful phrases. Mothers arrive, yelling “ragazzi, ragazzi,” to collect their children. One evening a woman apologized to me (in Italian!) for the noise. I replied that it was fun for us. At least that’s what I hope I said.

A grandmother and her cat peered out from a balcony window in the same pose and I could not bring myself to raise my camera. It would intrude. I realize now I have no pictures of this piazza, our favorite aperitivo place. In Urbisaglia, despite my huge camera, I am not a turista. I am a non-local.

Our country house is technically under Tolentino’s jurisdiction, although we are equidistantly 15 minutes from Urbisaglia and Tolentino. We do our shopping and business in the higher-populated Tolentino. But Urbisaglia is where we relax under the fortress that protected a city worth fighting for.

See a map of the region here.
Read my prior story about Le Marche’s Small Town Treasures here.
Sign up to receive blog postings by email here.