Nobody seemed to know where it was. “È un ristorante famoso per Slow Food! It’s a restaurant famous for Slow Food” for cryin’ out loud! How could it possibly be so illusive?
Wandering in circles around Piazza del Parlamento, Parliament Square in Rome, we were already 15 minutes late for our lunch prenotazione, reservation. If it weren’t for the fact that we had actually talked to them on the phone, we would have sworn the long-time favorite restaurant didn’t really exist. After asking two different poliziotti, policemen, and a woman organizing displays along with the owner of a small bookstore, we finally spied a curious sign and arrow, opening into what appeared to be nothing more than a back alley. Aha! It was in fact the illusive Vicolo Rosini, so we ventured in. (more…)
Here is an all-too-real Italian story that may amuse you.
In 1999, we bought this old farmhouse in Italy along with 3 Italian families—one married couple with two young girls, and two other young-ish bachelors. They are all very nice people and we get along great together.
Everyone was excited about building a swimming pool to complete the landscaping around the house. We didn’t really care one way or another, because we rarely use a pool, but we agreed with the others to support their vision of Tuscan perfection. We all worked hard together to get through the local planning approval process so we could begin the project. Finally after much negotiation, the plan was approved. (more…)
Wide-awake, I got out of bed as quietly as possible. Tiptoeing into the closet I collected some morning clothes by feeling around in the dark, and then stole away past the door into the moody stairway. I moved at a snail’s pace down the steps making sure not to stumble or awaken Cheryl, who was soundly sleeping, totally unaware of my plan. It was still dark as dawn had not yet broken, so I ventured out the front door with a flashlight in hand to find my way down the steps and out to the studio. Once around the corner, I breathed easy as my silent escape had proven successful. (more…)
A large white envelope arrived in our mailbox yesterday. Our friend, Susan, sent Il Bollettino della Piccola Italia, The Little Italy Bulletin for us to check out and enjoy. We were expecting a flier or an announcement in the local newspaper, but no . . . instead we got the special supplement to The Daily Clintonian newspaper—a full 32-pages, recapping the events and festivities of the 45th annual celebrazione, celebration of the Italian heritage enjoyed and shared in that special mid-western town. (more…)
Several years ago, we stopped at the small alimentari, food market in the outskirts of Fiesole, Borgunto to buy some eggs on the way home. This particular market is so small, if there are more than 4 customers, you have to wait your turn outside. The owner is usually there, providing his personal touch—you simply tell him what you want and he collects everything together for you. (more…)
Rain splats against the window. Familiar, predictable. Dogs bark in the valley and the sound echoes between the hills. Normal. Water begins to boil in the pot and we imagine air bubbles rising to the surface to accompany the sound. Ordinary. (more…)
Florence is the queen city of restaurants. There are literally hundreds of them, from quaint to elegant. From simple to gourmet. From traditional to nouvelle. Tourists pack the restaurants every night of the week, and all will gladly relive their favorites with you. But where can you find great traditional food at local prices? This is the real question. And with this question, the field narrows. (more…)
About 10 years ago we planted grape vines on the arbor for shade in the summer and sun in the winter. A grape arbor is the perfect natural solution since the grapes come on strong in the hottest months and then fall away into an open twiggy lattice when you need the sun the most. Fantastic! But what do you do with all of the grapes? (more…)
Our favorite vivaio, gardener came walking up the steps toward the front door. But rather than watching where he was going, he was looking around at the plants that had grown up since he was last here. As Em walked out the door, Stefano looked up with a surprised grin. “Em-air-sone!” he enthusiastically called out, his Italian voice drawing out the sounds. This is Stefano’s characteristic greeting. I was only a few steps behind and he quickly rushed in for kisses on both cheeks, once again daring to say the hardest word for any Italian, my name. “Sheh-reel, sempre piu giovane! Cheryl, always younger!” (I like this man.) (more…)
Lino finally went into pensione, retirement. He was the only barbiere, barber in the little hilltop town of Fiesole for over 50 years. That’s a lot of clipping, snipping and barber talk in the mirror. He gave the best haircut ever. After his heart attack, he rallied and made a comeback for another 2 years. But eventually, he just couldn’t do it anymore, as he was creeping up on 80 years old. It was his life. (more…)
Cheryl & Emerson
Quality time is undeniably great for relationships. We've discovered that quantity of time can provide that quality. Perhaps it takes Time to Partner.
Quality time is undeniably great for relationships. We've discovered that quantity of time can provide that quality. Perhaps it takes Time to Partner.
Uncommon promise 