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Witchy Woman, part two: We all get the blues.

How rude of me. When last we blogged, I had left you, mid-party, in Citta’ della Pieve. Picking up the pieces of the party here, where we left off.

. . . the discovery that we were partying with a third generation witch was naturally an unexpected twist. And, what fun, Wiley had just done a short film on Modern Witches. And imagine, yes, she does have the prerequiste yellow-eyed black cat, in addition to the decorative Maine Coon Cat, but she had never heard of Strega Nonna series of books by Tomie dePaola. Does every American, with kids, know these books? Well, we did. But the Italians didn’t. Not even the one sitting beside me who actually had a real live Calabrian Strega Nonna in her family. But she was soon trading emails and business cards with Wiley and making plans for meeting the next week to film an interview and have yet more Witchy Woman fun. And fun we were having. And then the food starting coming. And coming. The most excellent wine, which we’d already been liberally sampling was Vino Rosso Doc CORNIOLO Duca della Corgna ”Cantina del Trasimeno” Castiglione del Lago. Super slick wine. But look at this souffle’! with pomegranite in it. And chunks of parmigiano with balsamic vinegar on them for side garnish. I said I had never had a souffle’ in Italy and our new best friends said they had not either! Oh, Waiter! This bottle seems to have gone empty.

The restaurant staff has given up on the remaining two people scheduled for our table and have taken away their place setting now that we are though one course already. But what’s this? Another very pretty blonde and her big, tall guy. “Are THESE the long lost Americans, mayhaps?” I whisper to our new best friends? But the angelic blonde is asking Permesso and launching into a ferocious description of why they are so late in warp speed Italian. We all sort of exchange glances again and say Sit, sit. Hi I’m Daniel says The Big Guy. Which explains ever so much the US link. Finally. Code is broken. The American has arrived. But for a Texas guy, he speaks really eloquently. And does so in actual English and actual Italian.

So we carry on as we had been. In loud noisy Italian and totally bring them into our circle of new friends. Now, the new girl, was not a witch. But her name was Sabrina which she doesn’t think is a witch name, so we had to explain the Teen Age Witch Thing on tv. And to re-explain the title of Wiley’s Witch movie, which was Out of the Broom Closet. Try that in Italian sometime when you can’t remember the name of, you know, that tiny room where you keep the broom? Big times. And then the food started up again. A thick chick pea and tiny postage stamp pasta, then a collection of golden yellow, big, thin Tortellis, evidently a specialty of the town.

And in between courses the experts went on talking about the wine. And we went on drinking it. They swirled, they smelled, they talked about hints of vanilla. Don’t have to tell me twice how good it is, I’d already figured that out. Hey, Waiter, I said again, holding up the most recent casualty.

And then there was duck. Supreme Duck Imperial, it said, to be specific. I have never been served so much supreme duck or such good imperial duck. And all of it exquisitely and decidedly Non-Fat Duck. To add to the magic, it was served on a bed of incredible vegetables. . Vegetables that weren’t, I don’t know, not fried not anything I recognized. If they were fried, it was in a new way to me. Delicate, thin, crisp, almost transparent, every piece a different size and shape and color. The menu said they were ”glassate”

By this time, Folco Orselli the blues singer is at the ivories or guitar, accompanied only by a trumpet player. Cameraman with a huge news camera is filming him right from the start. And we are all stunned how good he is. Think Tom Waite, Bruce Springsteen, Paulo Conte, Zucchero Fornace all rolled into one. What an artist. Raspy voice but young and playful. He seems to be checking out the young witch, peering around the trumpet player to give her a smile after every song. Flapping the cowl collar of her black sweater she said It is getting a bit warm in here, isn’t it?

Blame it on nerves, or incompetence, or the wine with the long name, but my brava mini recorder totally failed me. Or I, it. But, I find I have nothing when we boot it up after getting home at 1 am or so. Nothing. But here is a sample of Folco Orselli’s music I found on the web. Click on it, in a few beats the music starts and then stand back, because in a few more beats, the singing starts. Folco can flat out hit a lick. I want that new album, now.

Then desserts, multiple desserts. Then coffees, then fond good nights, and we paid our 25 euros and we headed back, happy as larks at what a fine night this turned out to be. Thank you DOVE magazine, thank heavens I can read enough Italian to get us here, thank you Trasimeno Blues. And i think we need to especially give thanks that they were only celebrating the red wines of Umbria that night!

SOMETIMES, YOU HAVE TO JUST JUMP IN.

The nice voice on the phone said all the tables were sold out. But, they could squeeze us in with some people at a non-full table. OK, sign us up and we’ll be right over. Gosh, Citta della Pieve IS as close as Wiley said it would be. How about that? We are early. Early as only uptight foreigners can ever be.

CITTA’ DELLA PIEVE, Umbria— C’est la vie say the old folks. Goes to show you never can tell. Sometimes you just have to jump right in the waters. Instead of forever testing them. One thing is certain, you will never know unless you try. Sometimes it works. Sometimes it doesn’t.

Two nights ago, it didn’t. We took off for a restaurant not too far away because we had heard friends raving about it. Not our night. Cook must have been MIA because it was not up to usual Italy standards.

But last night! We decided to try to call for very last minute reservations at an event we had read about in DOVE magazine. Part of the Umbrian wine and music series cleverly called Bianco, Rosso and Blues. Why, it almost sounds Patriotic and American. But no, it is part of the Trasimeno Blues this autumn.

This particular night’s event was in Citta della Pieve starting at 8pm. At 7 pm Wiley had just woken up from a cozy late ”afternoon” nap. Too early a depart time for Cortona this morning and too many late nights, both of us hunched over our respective computers doing web things. It finally caught up with us. The nice voice on the phone said all the tables were sold out. But, they could squeeze us in with some people at a non-full table. OK, sign us up and we’ll be right over. Gosh, Citta della Pieve IS as close as Wiley said it would be. How about that? We are early. Early as only uptight foreigners can ever be. Too easy to get to. Piccolo Eden’s name was on two successive signposts as we pulled into town and there we were. Oh, no. it’s a rather boring looking medium-sized hotel, and it is well outside the historic center of town. Sigh. Turn around? It is 8 pm, starting time. And. No one there. Us. What have we gotten into Now? We hemmed. We hawed. Or at least I did. So we killed some time reading a brochure about the night’s entertainment that we picked up off a counter in the totally empty hotel reception area. Nothing but corn. ”Musical Voyage, mix of theater and concert, is it a dream or is it reality?” the more we translated, the deeper in corn we got. Then we thought, what the hey. Got to eat anyway, right? OK. We stay.

PARTY TIME IN CITTA DELLA PIEVE
Hey, wait, this might work out. This is good! The staff in the dining room was expecting us and waved us to one of the many, many empty tables. Empty of people, but decked out in linens, metric tons of silverware (how can one get a spoon THAT sized in one’s mouth?), bottled water, bottles of red wine. They were seriously expecting company. And us. They told us we were welcome to hang out on the terrace by the pool or whatever we liked. Which we did. Eventually, it started to fill up inside and we made our way to our table. Way in the back, by the kitchen and as far from area set up for the music as physically possible, without being in the hallway. What did we expect at last minute? Exactly. They waved us again into a couple seats at a round, six person table and gave us the happy news that the other Americans would be right along. Oh. No. They’ve sequestered us the other foreign dogs. Poverini.

So, we just grin and bear it and settle in to wait our table mates, and Fate. But it was a full moon that night. And Miss Fate was in that kind of playful mood she can get in when you least expect it. Why, Look. It is our waiter, again. Parli Italiano? He asks. Sure, why not? Good, he said. Follow me. I look at Wiley. She looks at me. Both shrug. And follow the nice man in the black pinstriped apron with flashy red zipper pockets. He led us to a table right next to the improved sound stage. Coool. I guess. But our being here seems to have irritated the mamma/head bouncer/owner lady. We say We’ll sit anywhere. Really. No, no. Stay, stay. Ok.

HERE COME THE AMERICANS?

Funny. They don’t look particularly American. A serious, slender blonde and a bouncy auburn-haired imp glide up to the table, and say ”Possiamo”? pointing at the empty seats. Well, yes, of course, we responded. But are you Americans? Ma, no. We live here in town. I teach Italian to foreigners. And my friend is a photographer. So, where are you from in America? Oh, you’ve never heard of it, I said. The State of Maine. Ma Certo! I have a Maine Coon Cat! Get out of town!

We are soon looking at cell phone photos of the feline in question and there is no question. He is a big silver Maine Coon Cat. The coincidences of our lives just went on and on and we decided we were at least long lost cousins of some degree. Destino! They both said. We were destined to meet. One of the many highlights was when I was being the annoyingly proud father that I am and was ”mentioning” that Wiley was a new graduate from college in London, with a degree in Broadcasting. Complimenti! And what sort of things have you done there? She mentioned her biggest film project to date which was about witches. Modern Witches of London and Salem, MA. And, at that our new table mate said Brava, and did Wiley know that she, Galezia, was a witch, too? As was her father. And his Calabrian mother, was an especially good witch. Wait! A real Strega Nonna? Che coincidenza. Ok, let us do the rest of this story tomorrow. To be continuted. . . .

GRAZIE. GRAZIE INFINITE.

Caro Signore, che abita in cielo: Avete fatto bene, bene, bene. Che giorno oggi. Grazie infinite.

Stew

Caro Signore, che abita in cielo: Avete fatto bene, bene, bene. Che giorno oggi. Grazie infinite.

Stew

Oh. Please don’t let the sun go down on this one. Twilight. Cuckoos cuckooing in the last bit of pale afternoon light. I am nostalgic for this day already. And not complaining, or ungrateful, in any way, about the nights here in autumn, either. Sleeping under covers, in these silent Umbrian nights, with the windows wide open is a kind of heaven itself. Perfect temps have followed us every day. Blue, blue skies. Coffee at Aldo’s with Italian friends competing to buy us coffees. And then, after coffee, an early trip to Cortona.

We started out with a gauzy haze hanging low between the hills all the way there. We saw an artist’s dream house and had an engaging talk with her and ooohed and aaahed over her home and her picture postcards views. Took a twisty viccolo the few steps up to Bar Sport where our friends Nando and Pia made us smiley face cappucchinos. And then met new friends at Bar 500. They have a strictly old Fiat 500 theme and, well, you have to respect that.

BACK TO THE GARDEN
And then back home as the sun starts to reach its delicate, almost wintery rays into our garden. It comes later every day and for less time. And that is my garden time. So much fun. Especially because Wiley is recovered from her accident. We are even more thankful for her now. Every day. To spend this time with her healthy and happy is a miracle.

Thank you for all the happy moments in this garden. And in this life. In these days, when so many have so little, I feel guilty to have so much. I know that a certain amount of life does depend on luck. And that the rain falls on the just and the unjust and even marketing people. But, please, always count me appreciative. Amen.

Happy HALLOWEEN.It came early in Umbria this year?

No, this isn’t Halloween, but a WileyReport recap of the Grape Harvest Festival. Who knows what the theme was this year, but it was crazy costumes and wine-dispensing floats as usual. Just another day in the neighborhood.

PANICALE, Umbria—After all the excitement of the Road Trip to Rome, the night before- we are ready for the Festa!!! Yeah, go party people! But it is chilly, and rainy and party people are dropping like flies. But Celia and Paulette and Daniel and I are set to go to the cena- and go to the cena we will!

Its absolutely packed and after a long line with loads of women coming through with heaving trays shouting permesso! Are appetites are totally whetted and soon we are sat down on at big plank tables and for 20 odd Euro we are getting bruschetta’s with beans and crostini, garlic and olive oil, tomatoes . . . spaghetti with wild boar sauce . . .grilled pork and veal . . .salad . . .bread . . .wine . . .wine . . .wine . . .oh sorry got a bit lost! And finally grapes with blueberry pound cake and vinsanto. Well . . . that’s wasn’t hardly enough and after all that we made our way to Aldo’s where we met up with Anna Maria a Danish art expert and former dentist and indulged in Cappuccino’s, Proseccos, and Limoncellos . . .yes completely overkill . . . but absolutely incredible . . .oh and gelato!!! We also took many a turn at the Pesca…a charity draw type of thing where you pay a euro get a scroll, and get the prize that matches the number on the scroll . . . we ended up with an ashtray and matching Limoncello glass, an air gun, a fanny pack, a change purse, and a kitchen knife- so some excellent finds!

On Sunday it was a bit rainy and fireworks and parade were cancelled: (BOO!) But, oh well, we had our little blue feed bags that hold wine glasses, that you can get in town to sample local food, wines, fabrics and art. Well, of course the wine was phenomenal. The ostrich meat and salted beans could make you weep… and the biscotti and pecorino with honey just well . . .left you speechless. Now you’d think Paulette and Daniel and I would have been fine with all that, but we had reservations at Masolinos- and you just don’t break reservations at Masolinos- especially with Steffania’s deserts- no way! So we sat in a warm little food hole eating — just about everything! The taligata (thin slices of beef covered in arugala and parmigian) as the absolute show stealer, with the umbrechelli (thickly rolled pasta) with peperoncino, garlic and tomatoes, an easy second place. Wow! And then another bout at Aldo’s- of course- it wouldn’t be Sunday night of the Festa without say a grappa and maybe a cappuccino with amaretto, right?!

These fine festival fotos are from the famous Paulette of San Francisco. The parade was put on when the weather cleared, a few days after the originally scheduled, but rained out date. The float themes are always puns on the word Vino. Vinocchio instead of Pinocchio, etc. but what the Cadillac, discomania theme line was, no one seems to remember. Still researching. Of course with the observers all dutifully on the grape, their testimony is somewhat suspect anyway.

Later that same day, word in from the coast: The Vampire? The Castello of Count Drac-uva. Dracula=Drac-uva. Uva means Grape. Ugh. Italians are less prone to puns than some cultures. But they will stoop to them and they even have a word for them: Giochi di Paroli. Word Jokes. Still waiting for resolution on the word joke based around the disco theme.

Uh, oh. Company Coming.

I tell Daniel to take a nap- and head out- and I feel relaxed, until I see my knuckles are white and my jaws clenched- ok relax girl, there is no traffic and its easy- stay focused- don’t look at the clocks that say 3.30- eeek!

This is another WileyReport. This was a lost file from last month’s September Grape Harvest festival.

Today- I did two loads of dishes, one of laundry, spruced up the whole house, took out the trash- please tell me I put it in the right dumpster! Swept the garden, scraped all the dropped figs of the ground- there were bucket loads. And buckets more appeared as soon as I had finished. Went to Castiglione del lago for gas and phone money. Worked on a web page.
Went to the piazza and struggled through a conversation with Simone at the bar to ask if there was music in town tonight- there wasn’t -but no matter, but I understood what he said and tonight I go to Bertonni to see Celia.
But man was I tired- never underestimate how long chores can take- if you’re not really sure what you’re doing!

I was just heading over to Celia’s to watch a folk music concert- which actually turned out to be a comedy play and town Cena! When I found a note on my door saying PAULETTE WAS IN TOWN!!!! YEAH!!!!!! The gray clouds don’t matter- life is good I got another party buddy, and an arty, fun up for anything one at that! So I make my way down to her door- and ambush poor, fresh-from-San Francisco-via-a-week-in-Paris, Paulette into coming with to Celia’s- and of course she was up for it. We went to a great Cena (town dinner of Pici and Duck) near Celia’s and then headed home before it got to late, only to go back to Paulette’s and stay up drinking wine and talking until 3.00! Excuse me- how did that happen?! (photo is the kitchen ladies in their official shower caps resting post cena . . .near Bertoni. By Paulette and her trusty Sidekick cell phone)

Then Friday was the day of reckoning- More tidying, more website, at 6.00 Paulette came over for some snacks and wine- and to send me on my way to Rome- alone- to pick up Daniel. OH MAN! Well the drive there was fine; I made it all the way, with surprisingly good radio, and little traffic. Daniel got it at 12.45 from London we were on our way back by 1.00- late but fine.

. . . And then our trip took a little detour! Well, y’know it is such an easy ride back from Rome, and it really is, especially in the daytime- but at night there are a lot of things you took for granted in the day.

Like it’s only my 5th day driving in Italy. I’m driving a new car (see photos) that has loads of new dash instruments, a little distracting green light in the rear view mirror, a massive overhead skylight. Italian direction signs that look different at night. Loads of twists and turns, and an exit that goes straight! While the main road takes a jagged badly signed veer. Then when you take that exit, and realize it seconds too late, because its easy to see in the day, but invisible at night, you think you’ll be able to just hop right back on…oh no! You drive 20 minutes until you see a hotel, run in and teach your boyfriend how to say- bona sera, parla inglese? Oh thank goodness the answer is yes! He tells us how to get back onto the main rd. where I see a sign for the airport and think ’ forget it I’m starting over’! So back at Fiumicino we begin again. I tell Daniel to take a nap- and head out- and I feel relaxed, until I see my knuckles are white and my jaws clenched- ok relax girl, there is no traffic and its easy- stay focused- don’t look at the clocks that say 3.30- eeek! But we make our way back and are home by 5.00 am. When Daniel suggests I open my birthday presents! Yeah! I feel my second wind! So we do that, and they are all great! Really lovely and I even got a jacket which I needed as it’s a touch cold and rainy lately, but never mind that, because after all the excitement of the night before- we are ready for the Festa!!!