More Cowbell

(Ok, I wrote this post the old-fashioned way, that is to say with pen and paper, on Monday, October 27, but this is the first time I have had internet access in several weeks. So just pretend the post date is a week and a half ago.)

Alas, the cows have been moved to another pasture. I miss the gentle clanging of distant cowbells lulling me to sleep at night.

It's as if this farm has been plucked straight from the pages of a storybook. Before my trip, I was trying hard not to romanticize the idea of working the olive harvest in Italy, a tricky thing to avoid when every person I told gasped, "Will you be in Tuscany? It's just like that movie... Under the Tuscan Sun!" "No," I would reply, "I will not be in Tuscany." This farm is along the is in the village of San Giovanni a Piro (between Salerno and Sapri, next to Parco Nazionale del Cilento and Golfo de Policastro).

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The house and the village were built in the 16th century and are made entirely of stone. Solid stone. This land and the house have been in my host, Sebastiano's family for 500 years. Everything is sloped here, nothing is level. Streets and fields alike are steep climbs. Most of the farmland is terraced. From the house there is a view of the sea to the east and Mt. Bulgheria to the west. The cobblestone alleys of the medieval village are so narrow that in some in places I can touch the walls on both sides when I stretch out my arms.

Despite the fairytale atmosphere, there is a reality to life on this farm. The house is drafty and extremely cold in winter (and even now, in the relatively mild weather). There is a cracked wall from an earthquake in the 80s that is in need of repair soon-- hopefully before another earthquke hits. The farmers here, like in so many places, work hard, long hours to make ends meet. Several of the men I have met have four jobs, and they are not unusual here.

Yet, it is a beautiful place. The villagers are friendly. Everyone greets you with "Buongiorno" or "Buonosera" (depending on the time of day). The landscape is spectcular. With the steep terrain, every turn grants a new vista. As I work, I can't help pausing and looking around in awe. After nearly two weeks here, the first thing I do every morning is look out the window at the sea and the mountains. I look out that window morning, noon, and night-- actually, every time I pass it.

The farm quickly came to feel like home. I think it is the distinct rhythms of our day and the wonderful company. We eat breakfast (toast and fig jam-- we made the jam ourselves) at the table in the kitchen. Lunch is on the terrace with a view of the sea. Dinner is at the great wooden table in the dining room: several of Sebastiano's spectacular dishes that leaves us scraping the bottom of the pan to get every last bit. There's always plenty of homemade wine and even better conversation. Dinner table conversation is largely in Enlgish, but we've had speakers of many languages (Italian and Enlgish- British and American, but also French, Spanish, German, Turkish, Serbian, Swedish and Hebrew), making for an entertaining linguistic melange with topics that equally varied. We've enjoyed sharing and comparing words and phrases from our respective languages. I think my favorite was a discussion of the name for "stinkbugs" around the world. In Sweden, since the bugs sit on berries and emit a distinct odor, they are called "barfis", which translates as "berry fart."

I spend most evenings in the kitchen trying to learn the secrets of Sebastiano's cooking. He was raised in Milan but lived in London for 20+ years, so he is a master of Italian and international cuisine. As my dear friend Giulia has often told told me, the key to Italian cooking is using a few simple, fresh, good quality ingredients. (But simple, I've learned, does not mean always mean easy.) Here are the directions for basic tomato sauce (mom, I still love your tomato sauce, but this requires much less work!): Can of peeled tomatoes (not chopped or diced), clove of garlic, olive oil. Do not saute the garlic; put all three ingredients in the pan together. Cover and heat to a gentle boil. Turn down heat and simmer. Break up the tomato into smaller pieces. Uncover slightly, continue simmering until the water evaporates. Cooking time will be about 40 minutes. Some people are tempted to add sugar and cook for less time, but Sebastiano says be patient. The acid of the tomatoes will evaporate with the water. If you add sugar, you end up with a weird sweet and sour taste. Note: Sebastiano salts his pasta water heavily, which is why the sauce is not satled. You can use this sauce as is or add capers, olives, etc (we did the latter and took it to the beach for a picnic yesterday). You can also use this sauce for parmigiana di melanzane (eggplant-- or aubergine-- parmesan). If you are nice, I might share that recipe, too :)

It's never a good idea to put something in your mouth, unless you know for sure that it is safe to eat. I am one of those people who is always tempted to eat berries and other tasty edibles on the spot, no washing required. Fortunately this farm is organic and has given me plenty of opportunities for munching in the fields: chestnuts, walnuts, pine nuts, hazelnuts, borage flowers, several varities of grapes, mint, apples, persimmon, fig, buckwheat, arbouse/corbezzo berries (those are the French and Italian names, I haven't figured out the English name), arugula, zucchini flowers, tomatoes, and yes, olives straight from the tree (very bitter!).

Humor is supposed to be one of the most difficult things to understand in a foreign language, and I suppose this is true for puns and sophisticated turns of phrase, but laughter itself is a common language. We have had plenty of giggling, chuckling, and gales of outright laughter in spite of (or perhaps because of) our language barriers. Next time you see me, ask about my new Italian nickname.

In related news, my limited Italian vocabulary is expanding. When I arrived on the farm from Rome, I realized that most of the words I had learned so far were food words: and most of those were gelato flavors! (No surprise to any of you who were in Rome with me....) Now I am learning another distinct group of words: farming terms. I'll leave you with another guessing game (no online translation sites allowed). First, an easy one, what is a "trattore"? Next, what is "le tame"? And finally, three names for one of my favorite tools: rongola, pinota, and maccero.