Ritual

Our Italian Thanksgiving table doesn’t look so different from the American version.

Thanksgiving has come and gone, but the turkey excess lingers on in the form of soup, sandwiches and an especially inelegant hash. It seems that smallish turkeys are almost impossible to come by outside of the Christmas holidays here, so we’re awash in the detritus of an 18 lb. bird. Since we were a mere seven for dinner, our leftover creativity is sorely tested already.

Plic e Plac

Hot, red peppers provide the heat in plic e plac.

As our own roots reach just a little deeper into this especially rocky Pugliese soil, we’re making new friends and slowly becoming ever more bound to the people we’ve come know over these last 18 years. Martina Franca isn’t a tiny town—its population hovers around 50,000—but we find it’s possible to connect easily, sometimes effortlessly, while conducting the business of daily living.

La Parmigiana

Parmigiana di melanzane in all its glory.

Ever so abruptly, the warmest autumn here in 200 years has ended. Yesterday brought an early morning downpour and steady rain for most of the day. And we can expect to see more of the same for the next week or so. This means that the olive harvest is on hold until we have a brighter weather window. In the meantime, we’re stowing our summer gear, breaking out our raincoats and umbrellas and retreating to the kitchen.

Pasta Primer

Pasta secca is one of the iconic dishes in southern Italy. Here it’s depicted in its most pure form.

I may be stating the obvious, but pasta in southern Italy is as firmly ingrained in the culture as turkey at Thanksgiving is in the U.S. Except pasta appears every day at the Pugliese table, unlike (happily) that ubiquitous American turkey. Like polenta to northern Italians and beans to the Tuscans, dried pasta is almost iconic south of Rome. And we notice it all the more because we’re trying to wean ourselves off of our daily fix. It seems that new research has helped us understand what we probably knew all along. As a result of the proliferation of highly refined strains of wheat now used in just about every prepared, wheat-based product including pasta, we’ve learned that most commercially available dried pasta may actually be physiologically addictive. I can’t imagine a worse revelation because I am truly, deeply and irretrievably fond of pasta.

Limonata

These lemons came all the way from the Amalfi Coast, hauled back to Puglia after a brief trip there.

Signs are everywhere that summer is on the wane. The weather, though still sunny and warm, is ever so slightly cooler than just a week ago. Every day is a little shorter. Backpacks and i grembiuli, those adorable gingham smocks that all elementary school children wear to school here, are on display in the weekly market. Yet we’re not quite ready to let go of Puglia’s most exuberant season and move into fall, especially since we know that winter’s chill is not far behind.

Che Caldo!

Triple-digit temperatures descended upon Puglia yesterday—instant summer!

All summer long, our friends and neighbors have complained that real summer weather has yet to arrive in Martina Franca. Temperatures have hovered around 80 degrees, which is just about perfect as far as we are concerned. But everyone even remotely connected to the summer visitor trade here has been praying for serious summer mercury readings—the kind of weather that drives people to eat out, go to the beach and buy industrial quantities of gelato. All that changed yesterday when we ushered in our first three-digit temperatures of the summer. Yes, it was 102 degrees in the shade. Even for Puglia, this is an extreme display, so we hunkered down for a hot one.

Umbria is Beautiful

Looking out at the valley behind the Umbrian hill town of Montone.

One winter’s day years ago when we lived with our children in the Italian region of Umbria, we were loading up our little car for a road trip to Venice. We told our Umbrian neighbor excitedly about our plans. She asked, “Why are you going to Venice?” We didn’t know how to answer. “Ummm . . . to see it? We hear it’s beautiful.” Her response? “But Umbria is beautiful.” Indeed it is, then as now.

Liberation Day

Contemplating liberation while podding fava beans on the Festa della Liberazione in Italy.

Yesterday was Liberation Day in Italy, so we packed a picnic, grabbed our bikes and set out to celebrate liberation of a very different kind. What’s different about it? For us, liberation is all about what happened when we decided to change our lives and move to Italy.

To Your Health

The best seasonal produce makes it way to the weekly market in Martina Franca.

The national conversation about healthy food in the United States seems to be heating up lately, which may be a case of too little, too late. As we see it from half a world away, Americans are waking up to the insidious infiltration of toxicity in the food supply. Yet the horse has clearly left the barn some time ago and we’re all still debating about whether or not we should close the barn door. It’s possible that collective outrage will move decision makers to action, albeit belatedly, but there are so many national distractions that nutrition and the future of food often seem like abstract concepts.

One Day, Yes; One Day, No

Olive tree pruning the old-fashioned way.

Time is running out to finish olive tree pruning before the summer arrives in Puglia. With the capricious spring we’re experiencing, though, summer feels awfully far away. One day we awake to brilliant blue skies and warm sun on our faces—it’s 70 degrees and we want to go to the beach. The next day, cruel north winds are howling through our hill town’s nooks and crannies, followed by drenching rains that course down the cobblestones like a flash flood.