Alongside the house at 43 Assisi Lane hung the wisteria vines and next to them were the lemon trees filled with fruit. It was a sun-filled day in Montepulciano in the Tuscan region of Italy. Maria and her beaux, Jimmy, were planning for a picnic just a few blocks past the stone manor houses of the Village.
Both their families had lived in the region of vineyards and hilltop farms for generations. The ancient old mill pond provided the power to grind corn to make polenta. Their wood-burning ovens brought forth hot meals for family gathered around the wooden table. Mealtime in Italy is almost sacramental and is never hurried.
The olive pruning would be done again in September. In February would be the organic fertilizer for the olives. In late Autumn the essential oils would produce liters of extra virgin olive oil to be bottled and sold.
Jimmy had worked his father’s olive groves since he was 12 years old. He will saute’ onions, celery, parsley, garlic, tomatoes and olives for the pasta dish he is making for their picnic. He wants to hear Maria exclaim “nuovo olio” or “It’s all good.” Hopefully she will say it.
The previous week they had eaten in town at the Osteria del Teatro. The bruschetta was especially delicious. They enjoyed the pasta dish and the desserts with their tea and coffee. Ralph Waldo Emerson had written to “Hitch your wagon to a star.” That star, some feel in Italy, is the olive. Italy has more than 1.1 million vineyards.
The picnic basket swings between them as they head for the old mill pond and its leafy branches hugging the water. They have bread slathered with strawberries, salami, the pasta dish, a bowl of cherries, figs, turnips with thyme, and sweets for dessert. The pear mascarpone and some ripe apples make their dessert. A bottle of red wine and a liter of water will be their beverages.
Both are in capricious moods, full of jolly banter. They enjoy their picnic and then plan to hunt for mushrooms and chestnuts. They know where to look so it won’t take them long to gather a basket full. Along their way will be shared hugs and kisses, chaste and longingly. They have been engaged for a few months now and plan a next Summer’s wedding. It will be held at the Church of Santa Domingo with attendants in pale pinks and mauves. A honeymoon is planned for Rome staying at the Napoleon Hotel.
They walk to the forest edge and under some chestnut trees they find some small porcini mushrooms, and, of course, chestnuts. They continue moving north and find more perfect porcini. They use a small knife to cut the mushrooms low on their stocks. They celebrate the moment as Italians seem to do. The Tuscan experience offers abundance when it comes to sitting down to a meal. They will have sufficient items to bring home for their evening’s repast.
A flat, salted, bread is called schiacciata and that will lend itself to the grilled mushrooms. When they leave their basket on the garden gate, the bread truck stops and leaves warm bread in it. Salt used to be heavily-taxed so much of the bread now is without salt. And Italians like it that way because it lasts longer.
La dolce vita reigns supreme in this Tuscan region of Italy where the ancient trees sway with the evening’s breeze and where life is regarded as precious and irreplaceable. After the evening meal, they sat on the porch swing, hand in hand. The day was ready to close on the two young people who had fallen in love and wanted to spend their lives rejoicing in that fact.