My Perfect Italy

Casa Pace e Gioia, Tolentino Italy
Casa Pace e Gioia in le Marche, Italy

In Italy, my name is Erica. Italian for heather, it’s easier for Italians to pronounce. I am zero percent Italian but feel at least 50% using an alternate name. 

I last left our vacation rental home, Casa Pace e Gioia in le Marche, Italy on February 2, 2020, just as Covid began devastating the country, the first hotspot outside of China. Apprehension filled the airport. The check-in agent, seeing our Chinese visas asked when my husband Matt and I had last traveled to China. She took our temperatures and cleared us to travel home to the U.S. But I felt like I was leaving home. 

In 2018 after we bought the house in Italy, I was seated on a plane next to an Italian woman who was born in Milan but now lived in Rome. She asked me what I loved about Italy in general and le Marche in particular. 

I started with the pace of life. Italians work to live, not live to work. It’s a relaxing backdrop. Then the food, so fresh and buonissimo; the landscape, so varied and jaw-dropping gorgeous; the art, the abundance of it and the cultural importance it holds; the people, their kind hospitality and patience; the light, shimmering and ever-changing. She nodded in understanding.

Amphitheater of Urbs Salvia
Amphitheater of Urbs Salvia

Then I told her about the first-century ruins that we drive past on SP78, just a few minutes from our house. The atmosphere of history is thick there. The castle that overlooks the piazza in Urbisaglia. The city walls in San Ginesio. How every time I drive or walk through a city gate, I feel like I’m stepping into a rich and storied past. 

She shook her head. “Funny, those things are boring to me. We’re so used to ruins, we walk by them every day, we’ve seen them our whole lives.” 

“I am surprised that you chose the Marche,” she said. “Not many international tourists go there. Tuscany is more popular.” I nodded. Yes, exactly. And we found a home with a view of the Sibillini mountains and two medieval walled towns, and 10 minutes from a city that we reach by driving over a one-lane bridge from the 13th century. 

The view of Colmurano from Casa Pace e Gioia
The view of Colmurano from Casa Pace e Gioia

The Marche found us because I had seen an ad for a house and we flew to see it, then we bought it. But what I ended up finding in the Marche is my perfect Italy. The regional foods here are my favorites: fresh seafood from the Adriatic, pork, truffles, wild boar, spreadable sausage, stuffed and fried olives! I even like cicoria, the ubiquitous plant that grows in between our grapevines and is picked by foragers. I watch the clouds roll past the Sibillini mountains from my hanging chair. Notable artworks from every era are displayed in museums and churches that we can visit without crowds. The nearby village of Ripe San Ginesio is filled with outdoor sculptures, an open-air gallery. And I’ve learned not to wait to take a picture because the light changes so quickly. 

But the people here make the Marche home to me. The guy working on our house who, after seeing Matt cut wood for our stove with a hand saw, brought his chainsaw and made quick work of a huge pile. Our neighbor who, when I asked him where we can buy farm fresh eggs, handed us a dozen of his. Another who shares her flowers, plants, and figs. The friends we made at a wine dinner, one of whom, upon learning that I’m not Italian, tells me “you are one hundred percent Italian in your heart.” 

The view of the Sibillini Mountain from Casa Pace e Gioia
The view of the Sibillini Mountain from Casa Pace e Gioia

I am, for the foreseeable future, 5,193 miles away from our Italian home. Instagram unhelpfully reminds me of the distance when I post to our house account. But my friends there write me: “Erica, ti aspettiamo a braccia aperte e con il sorriso.” Erica, we wait for you with open arms and with a smile. 

Non vedo l’ora is one of the first Italian idioms I learned. It means I can’t wait!

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 65th 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

Gattina on our furniture

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. 

Gattina in the kitchen window

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. 

Gattina playing with the sprinkler flag

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. 

My Italian Cat

Gattina howling from the terrace

“I’m not sure what’s wrong,” the flight attendant said and gave me a glass of prosecco and a handful of kleenexes, “But a prosecco always helps.”
“Thank you.” I said, clutching the glass in one hand and the tissues in the other.
I had been crying off and on for the last 12 hours as we left our Italian home to fly back to our Florida one.
“How could I tell her it’s about a cat?” I asked my husband Matt.

Two weeks earlier Matt said that he had seen a kitten on top of the construction rubble pile by our driveway.
“Was it my gatto nero?” I asked. Last fall, I had fed an older black cat with bad eyesight and had thought he was not long for this world. I had not seen him on our previous trip in February.
“No, this one was smaller and lighter colored.”
I had seen a tiny kitten in February, in an olive grove across the street. It saw me and froze. I tossed some cat treats towards it, but it ran away. I wondered if this was the same kitten.

The next day, I was hanging laundry on the patio clothesline and heard “mraiowww.” And another and another. A tiny calico face peered around the house from the sidewalk. “Mraiowww,” She wailed, closing her eyes as she howled and slowly approached me. “Ciao gattina.” She was a beautiful mix of white, grey, and light orange. I went inside to get cat treats and she ran away. But when I piled some treats on the patio, she scampered back and devoured them. The kitten in February who had run from treats in fear, was, three months later, devouring them on our doorstep.

I crouched down and extended my fist. She smelled it, eyeing me, then walked around me. She was pitifully thin, covered in sharp burrs, and dotted with several wounds, one particularly nasty looking on the back of her neck. A snail was stuck to the inside of an ear. Her big golden-green eyes were crusted with a dark discharge. She let me pet her as she ate treats. Her fur was matted, she hosted a few visible insects, and the end of her tail was bent and painful to touch.

Gattina at the front door

Matt came out to see our new arrival. “If you feed it, it will never leave.” He said. 

“She’s terribly thin and there’s something wrong with her. We can’t just ignore her.” 

The cat darted away when I stood up. I threw some treats down the patio, their crunchy texture tinkled on the terracotta, but she did not move her head or chase after them. I tossed some closer to her and she smelled around until she had eaten them all. 

I walked to the clothesline to finish my laundry. Gattina ran in between my legs, getting tangled. She hissed when I got too close, and again when I accidentally stepped on her. I moved so she would be on my right side, she jumped to the middle of my legs. I tried keeping her to my left, again she dashed between my legs. She had never walked with a human. I edged forward, legs wide, head down, cat underfoot.

For dinner that night, Matt grilled meat and vegetables. Gattina took up residence on an old bath rug we had put by the screen door we rarely used. I brought her a plate of leftovers. With a full belly, she did not wail. 

Gattina in the grill the next day after licking the grates

When I went downstairs for coffee the next morning she was waiting on the bathmat, howling. I brought her some food, and wearing rubber gloves, I wiped the discharge from her eyes, removed the snail from her ear, peeled off several ticks, a few thorns, and many burrs embedded into her fur. I put neosporin on her wounds. Perhaps my role was to provide palliative care for cats.

She drank from a puddle in the walkway to the pool, passing the full water dish. I walked toward her and she jumped up my legs, rubbing her face on my calves. Gattina underfoot, I lolloped to show her the treats she had missed the day before. We were here for two weeks. What would happen to her after we left?

Watch Gattina jump on my legs

In the following weeks, as we worked outside, Gattina roamed our muddy yard and napped under our lounge chairs, or on the outdoor sofa, leaving pawprint paths. When we were in the house, she slept in the nearest windowsill. When we pulled into the driveway she would leave her hiding spot next to the rubble pile before we were out of the car.

Her eyes cleared and her wounds improved. She started grooming herself and drank out of her water bowl. When I woke up at two in the morning coughing, having developed a cold, Gattina meowed in unison from her perch in our window then jumped on the roof to meet me at the bathroom window. 

We found a mouse head on our bedroom terrace. The rest of the unlucky creature was near the patio. 

“See, she does know how to hunt,” Matt said. 

“Yes, but she does not appear to know what to do with it.” 

“Sure she does. She brought her mom a trophy.” 

One afternoon I sat in my hanging chair in our casetta to watch the mountains. Gattina had been napping in the sun. She put a paw on the chair and jumped onto my lap, kneaded my legs, and nestled into a tiny ball. I petted her and heard, for the first time, her purr. 

“I’ve always wanted a lap cat,” I said to Matt when he came out.
“Maybe you can train the three we have at home,” he said.
I wondered how they would react if I brought home a fourth. Ian and Marcello would struggle but Macchia might not mind. It was difficult but not impossible to bring an Italian cat to the USA.

Two nights before our departure Matt and I were enjoying a glass of wine in the casetta. Matt stretched out on the outdoor sofa, I was in my hanging chair. Gattina jumped onto his leg and laid on it, snuggling in for a nap. He petted her and scratched her under her chin, and she curled up in his lap. I brought his wine closer so he would not disturb her. The first tear trickled down my cheek.

To be continued…

Le Marche’s Soundtrack

“We have no earlids.”

North Valley view from Casa Pace e Gioia
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?

Our red grapevines
Our red grapevines

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.

Cows across the valley
Cows across the valley
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Best Ever Olive Oil Cake Recipe

I spent four hours climbing, cutting, and prying an invasive vine that threatens to overtake a vulnerable olive tree that I’ve named Ercole. Our eastern olive grove at Casa Pace e Gioia is older and on the receiving end of the breezes that cool in the summer but freeze in the winter. I broke a pair of garden clippers when I really should have used a crowbar. He’s showing improvement but I still have work to do, with better tools. 

Vines on the olive trees

Trimming the dead branches of a living olive tree is meditative. I think it regenerates us both. I know it does me. And also, I want to boost our olive production as we have increased our olive oil consumption, a benefit especially for my lactose-intolerant husband. Fried eggs, hash browns, fish, chicken, you name it, we use olive oil to make almost everything. 

I tried and tweaked several olive oil cake recipes to come up with this one, adapted from Bon Appetit magazine. My daughter calls it sad cake, because that’s how you feel when it’s gone. It’s perfect for breakfast and dessert, and it’s not difficult to make! It lasts for days covered loosely. Even my cat loves it. 

Buon appetito! 

Piece of the Best Ever Olive Oil Cake

Best Ever Olive Oil Cake Recipe

Ingredients:

1 ¼ cups extra-virgin olive oil, plus more for the pan
1 cup plus 2 tablespoons sugar, plus more
2 cups cake flour
⅓ cup fine-ground cornmeal
2 teaspoons baking powder
½ teaspoon baking soda
½ teaspoon kosher salt
3 tablespoons Grand Marnier, Amaretto, or Cointreau
Zest of one lemon
3 tablespoons of fresh lemon juice
2 teaspoons vanilla extract
3 large eggs

Preheat oven to 400°. Drizzle bottom and sides of a 9” springform pan with oil and use your fingers to coat. Line the bottom with a round of parchment paper and smooth to eliminate air bubbles. Coat parchment with more oil. Generously sprinkle pan with sugar and tilt to coat in an even layer; tap out excess.

Whisk cake flour, cornmeal, baking powder, baking soda, and salt in a medium bowl to combine and eliminate any lumps. Stir together Grand Marnier, lemon juice, and vanilla in a small bowl.

Using an electric mixer on high speed (use whisk attachment if working with a stand mixer), beat eggs, lemon zest, and 1 cup plus 2 Tablespoons sugar in a large bowl until mixture is very light, thick, pale, and falls off the whisk or beaters in a slowly dissolving ribbon, about 3 minutes if using a stand mixer and about 5 minutes if using a hand mixer. With mixer still on high speed, gradually stream in 1 ¼ cups olive oil and beat until incorporated and mixture is even thicker. 

Reduce mixer speed to low and add dry ingredients in 3 additions, alternating with Grand Marnier mixture in 2 additions, beginning and ending with dry ingredients. Fold batter several times with a large rubber spatula, making sure to scrape the bottom and sides of bowl. Scrape batter into prepared pan, smooth top, and sprinkle with more sugar. 

Place cake in oven and immediately reduce oven temperature to 350°. Bake until top is golden brown, center is firm to the touch, and a tester inserted into the center comes out clean, 40-50 minutes. Transfer pan to a wire rack and let cake cool in pan 15 minutes. Run a thin knife around edges of cake and remove ring from pan. Slide onto rack and let cool completely. Let sit covered at room temperature after it is cool.  

Our cat Ian licking the crumbs
  • If you missed my post with Marchigiane recipes, find them here.
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Recipes from my 8.338 km Kitchen

Le Marche is hidden Italy—its cuisine is a secret treasure.

Le Marche’s patchwork farmland is backdropped by the Sibillini Mountains

Le Marche’s locally focused cuisine is inspired by the abundant fresh fish from the Adriatic; the crops that grow and the animals that graze in the midland hills; and the wild game, nuts, and truffles that thrive in the mountains. The 0 km movement pervades Le Marche, although the region has eaten locally long before it became trendy.

If Le Marche was famous for its food, it would be thanks to typical dishes like the twelve-layered Vincisgrassi lasagna, stuffed and fried Ascolane olives, the spreadable sausage ciauscolo, pork-stuffed rabbit, or wild boar ragù. These dishes are best enjoyed in situ, and preferably, with someone else doing the work.

However, I have found a few typical Marchigiane recipes, made with readily available ingredients, that are so easy to make even I succeeded in bringing a little bit of Le Marche to my Florida table. Until your next trip to Le Marche, enjoy these recipes from my 8,338 km kitchen.

Making Stracciatella Soup
Making Stracciatella Soup

I first tasted the simple goodness of Stracciatella soup at Picciolo di Rame and combined recipes to come up with this one. It looks weird at first, but after stirring the egg drop, it literally falls into place.

Stracciatella Soup

6 cups high quality, organic chicken stock
2 large eggs
1/3 cup freshly grated Parmigiano-Reggiano. (You could substitute Pecorino.) Plus additional to serve.
2 Tablespoons breadcrumbs
½ teaspoon grated nutmeg
Squeeze of fresh lemon to taste (optional)
Freshly ground black pepper

Bring the chicken stock to a boil in a saucepan.
Beat the eggs, Parmigiano, breadcrumbs, and nutmeg in a bowl.
When the stock boils, reduce heat to a simmer.
Drizzle the egg mixture into the broth. It will float to the top. Give it a second to thicken.
Stir it up with a fork.
Serve in warmed bowls, add a spritz of lemon if desired, and top with more cheese and black pepper.

Stracciatella soup ready to serve
Stracciatella soup ready to serve

I served “Le Marche Risotto” at a dinner party and it was a hit with everyone. Its savory taste belies the ease to prepare, and the unexpected flavor combination is fancy-restaurant worthy. I found this recipe in the only English cookbook I’ve found about Le Marche: Cucina of Le Marche, by Fabio Trabocchi, who was born there. In the book, Chef Fabio writes that what makes this recipe Marchigiana is the cinnamon that: “reflects the long relationship Le Marche had with seafarers of North Africa and the spice traders of the East.” The recipe makes a huge portion. While it reheats very well, it’s easily halved. Pair it with a Verdicchio.

Le Marche Risotto

12 cups Chicken Stock, or as needed
12 Tablespoons (6 oz) unsalted butter, softened
¼ cup finely chopped onion
2 ¼ cups Carnaroli or Arborio rice
Kosher salt
1-¼ cups dry white wine, such as Verdicchio or Pinot Grigio
¼ cup grated mild Pecorino, plus more for serving
¼ cup freshly grated Parmigiano-Reggiano
¼ teaspoon ground cinnamon
Freshly ground black pepper
1 lemon

In a medium saucepan, bring the chicken stock to a boil. Reduce the heat and keep at a low simmer.

Melt 2 tablespoons of the butter in a large sauté pan over medium heat. Add the onion, reduce the heat to low, and cook slowly, stirring occasionally with a wooden spatula or spoon, until the onion is soft and translucent but has not browned. Add the rice and 1 teaspoon of salt and stir for 1 to 2 minutes to toast the rice. Add the white wine; increase the heat, and simmer, stirring constantly, until the pan is almost dry.

Ladle ½ cup of the simmering stock into the rice and stir constantly until it is completely absorbed. Continue cooking and adding stock ½ cup at a time, stirring constantly and letting each addition be absorbed before adding the next. After about 16 to 18 minutes, you should have added about 10 cups stock, the rice should be al dente, and the risotto should be quite thick and creamy. If the rice is not yet al dente, add more stock and continue cooking as necessary.

Remove the pan from the heat and gently fold in both cheeses, the remaining 10 tablespoons of butter, and the cinnamon. The risotto should be soft and creamy. If it seems too thick, add more stock a spoonful or so at a time. Season to taste with salt and pepper.

Using a Microplane or other fine grater, lightly grate lemon zest over each plate. Top with the risotto, finish with grated pecorino, and serve immediately.

Le Marche Risotto
Le Marche Risotto

Giuseppe is Chef Fabio’s father and his grilled pork chop recipe is a crowd pleaser. In my travels throughout Italy, I have never seen more grilled food than in Le Marche. It’s inherent in their culture and many restaurants are designed around an open grill. Serve the grilled pork chops with a Rosso Piceno wine.

Giuseppe’s Grilled Pork Chops

6 pork chops, 8-12 ounces each, preferably organic
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper
1 orange
Grated zest of 1 lemon
3 garlic cloves, skin left on, crushed
Five 4-inch sprigs rosemary, leaves removed and finely chopped
3 whole cloves
¼ cup, plus 2 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil

Wipe the pork chops dry and lightly season with salt and pepper. Grate the zest of the orange into a small bowl. Add the lemon zest, garlic, rosemary, cloves, and olive oil. Mix well.

Put the pork chops in a baking dish and pour the marinade over them. Turn to coat, rubbing the marinade into the meat. Squeeze the juice of the orange over the chops, turn again, and cover tightly. (You can also marinate the chops in a resealable plastic bag.) Refrigerate overnight.

Remove the pork chops from the marinade and pat dry with paper towels. Discard the marinade. Place on a plate and let stand at room temperature for 30 minutes.

Meanwhile, prepare a charcoal fire or preheat a gas grill. Or preheat a cast-iron grill pan over medium-high heat.

Grill the pork chops for about 4 minutes per side, or until medium to medium-rare (they will continue to cook as they rest). Transfer the chops to a tray and let them rest for 10 minutes in a warm place before serving.

Giuseppe's grilled pork chop
Giuseppe’s Grilled Pork Chop
  • If you missed my post about La Cucina Marchigiana, read it here.
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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.
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  • 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, 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.

Stracciatella egg drop soup

We were eating at Picciolo di Rame, a restaurant that everyone in Le Marche had insisted we try. In a 16thcentury former olive oil mill, in a 13thcentury 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. 

Pasta dei pastori alla Griscia

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.)

Vincisgrassi

 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. 

Le Olive Ascolane

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