. . . extraordinary. I think that’s the best adjective.
ex·traor·di·nary adj 1 a : going beyond what is usual, regular, or customary <extraordinary powers> b : exceptional to a very marked extent <extraordinary beauty
Yep, that’s it. Everything about it here goes beyond the regular. Or maybe its just the ordinary I was used to. As much as I love New York — I will never be anything but a ‘New Yorker’— there were things I didn’t know I was missing. And New Yorkers don’t like to think we miss anything.
My friend Loretta calls this just a simple country life but I’ve been skeptical. It’s not simple, that’s for sure. There are intrigues (like in any small town) and lots of things that simply don’t function in this country. (This from the people who brought us the Renaissance .) But there are, at it’s core, simple things of great value to be found here.
In New York there is this great fusion of, well, everything. When it comes to Italian food, fusion is sometimes a scary thing. I think the rule of thumb (more or less) is that if there are more than three ingredients listed in a particular menu item its too much. Clearly Dover Sole with Chestnuts, Watercress, Black Truffles & Trumpets on a bed of Risotto with Wild Asparagus is too much of a good thing. And then there are dishes that I can’t imagine an Italian ordering. Who in their right minds thinks Italians put a chicken cutlet and fresh steamed vegetables on top of a plate of Fettucini al Fredo?
But I digress.
Last night, after coming home from a day in Florence (which is something one can do around here and just drop into a sentence like that), I stopped by Loretta’s house right outside the wall. I wanted to just say hello but was ushered in and offered a glass of wine. Now a glass of wine means you’re not leaving anytime soon at the Bartolini’s. It was just Loretta and her mom at home — my favorite dynamic duo — so I was very comfortable and the dogs were let loose to scavenge for crumbs. Soon I was offered some bread and cappacolo, then a little cheese, then some bietole and cicorie with olive oil, and finally some pork slices sort of Francese style with some peperoncini. (I asked for some more bietole because it was so good). Smiling and laughing with Loretta, I wondered when leftovers were ever this good and went down so well. I came away completely sated and happy.
What an extraordinary gift these people are able to convey. All of it simple and usual for them —from the food to the hospitality — but all of it extraordinary none the less. The people are what I find the most extraordinary here. The New Yorker in me may have thought it was the art or the countryside or the food but it is much simpler and that’s extraordinary.
