Mark Margolin visits

13.10 A nice day out today, so Aurora and I walked up to Berzieri for eggs. We found a mushroom that smelled like regular white button mushrooms, but wanted to ask someone more knowledgeable. Rosana Berzieri didn’t know, but she said that the other Rosana in the village was very good with mushrooms and would know if it was any good. We found the other Rosana, met her son Michele, and showed her the shroom. She said it was not deadly, but it tasted terrible. We chatted for a few minutes, and then she said, “Will you accept a bottle of marmelata di prugne?” How nice! Sure! She took us back to her storage shed, which was floor to ceiling with her home canned veggies and fruit. She pulled out about 2.5L of marmelata, then asked me if I liked tomato sauce. Well, uh, yeah! So she got out about 2L of her homemade tomato sauce as well. Only condition: I have to take the bottles back! J She also had a rabbit named Camiglia (which is funny in Italian: una coniglia chiamata Camiglia), which she let Rose play with for a bit. Big bunny. Aurora was very charmed until bunny nipped her finger a little on the hard side.

We had the last of the capelli d’angeli with homemade tomato sauce for dinner. Yeah, homemade/home-grown is better. #villagelife

14.10 Mark arrived safely at Malpensa and managed to get himself in one piece to Fidenza. He had offered to take us on a tour of Milan, but the combination of timing and knowing just how exhausted he’d be after coming straight from California put the kibosh on that plan. Just as well. I went to the station to pick him up and as usual, got mildly lost, then realized not only where I was, but that I had found a quicker way to get to the station, yay. Since it was such a gorgeous afternoon, Mark and Rose and I walked up hill a ways. Mirella had said that the Pietra Nera was a nice walk, so we started out that way. We passed a hunter on the way up with a walkie-talkie, who told us tersely that he and his team were after cinghiale (wild boar), so we left him to it. Rosie got tired of walking not too far past the Allelujah, so we turned around. On our way back down we met our hunter again, who in the meantime had indeed bagged a boar. He showed us the carcass and his dogs, Polka and Foxtrot. All his dogs are named after ballroom dances. He apparently loves to dance so much that his wife divorced him. In the course of our conversation (which he contributed way more to, just because it was all Mark and I could do to keep up!) we learned all about bag limits for boar (relatively high, as they have few natural predators and are fairly destructive) and deer (relatively low because they are pretty nearly in balance with the local wolf population). Also, smart people hunt boar with dogs and stupid people hunt with only guns, fyi. He recounted the tale of a stupid hunter who went out without dogs and thus had no warning when he surprised a boar at close range. With no time to fire his gun, the boar ripped his thigh open from knee to groin, and he was lucky to survive the encounter. So be warned, kids: hunt cinghiale with dogs AND guns!

On the way back to Besozzola we stopped at the bar and had bargnolini with Emanuele. Angela promised to give me her recipe for cheesecake and for apple tart with prugna marmelata inside – particularly important now that I have 2 litres of marmelata that I need to use!

15.10 Rain on and off all day today, so we just did errands in Pellegrino and Salso. We started with the veg market in the village. We were interested in one of the kinds of greens they had, and Meg asked the vendor what it was. He called it "Catalogna." I asked what it was like...how bitter it was. He replied that he'd never eaten it. I laughed and said that wasn't very helpful. He laughed and said we’d have to come back and tell him what it's like. We saw it later at the supermarket where the sign indicated it is a type of chicory. We also stopped at the ferramenta to order pellets for the heating stove in the kitchen. I asked how much they would be, and the man said he'd have to figure it out. I asked if I could pay with Visa and he said yes but we’d have to wait until they were delivered and he figured the cost. Can I pay with Visa when they’re delivered? No, you have to come back after they are delivered, when he would know what they cost. #villagelife

On the way back we stopped at San Nicomede (which I’ve come to feel very proprietary about – must be the two little Roman columns in the crypt), and I found the lights for crypt so we could actually see it. Longobard columns are very pretty. Not really knowing who the Longobards were, apart from the fact that their name corrupts to Lombardy and they were of more or less Germanic origin, I looked them up. Their name literally means “Long beards”, though it’s not clear if that was a general description, a reference to their primary god, Odin Grey-Beard, or a reference to an outnumbered Longobard army having their women tie their hair under their chins and stand in the ranks to make their numbers appear scarier to the enemy.

I had heard that the pizza down at Caserma Vecchia in Pellegrino was outstanding, so we decided on that for dinner. On our way in, we met Enzo, an old guy who was having a birthday party, according to the cashier. He was difficult to understand – more than a few teeth missing – but he seemed very happy to meet the famous American (yeah, I’m famous), and announced we needed a bottle of wine to celebrate his birthday with. We said we would absolutely toast his birthday when we had our pizza.

We ordered capriciosa and tonno pizzas (margherita for the girls, naturally) and a bottle of red wine to go with it. Next thing we know, the waiter is appearing with our half carafe of red, followed by a bottle of white. Eh? We only ordered the red. But no, it seems Enzo was absolutely serious about our having a bottle of wine, and had sent us up a bottle of Malvisia, a relatively sweet, slightly bubbly white. I liked it a lot. The pizzas were delicious but huge – we had each ordered one, and had almost a whole one left over. In future  pizzas = people – 1.

16.10 Mark needed to see a castle, naturally, so he, Mamma and I drove over the hill (the crazy way, with the vertical vineyards, because everyone needs to see crazy Italian hill roads and vertical vineyards!) to Castell’Arquato. Mamma had a look in the gift shop while Mark and I paid for the tour of tower. It wasn’t really a tour, just admission to the castle keep and grounds proper, but it did mean we got to go up inside and see the amazing views (we didn’t even get to the top), and we got the watch The Video. I have to go back in the spring when my Italian is better, because this video was clearly awesome. The conceit was that some monk was writing the history of castle in his diary over the course of about 400 years. Each new entry had a Monty-Pythonesque prop appear, appropriate to the entry: snowball during a terrible winter, bloody knife for riots or assassinations, Turkish hats when foreigners were involved. We were deeply annoyed that we couldn’t understand the Italian fast enough to follow it better. (We looked everyone on the web for a copy of it but no luck. Next time I go I’m totally asking if it’s possible to buy a copy.)

Afterwards we came back over the hill and had lovely lunch at Trattoria Trinita. Mark had stuff guinea fowl (nice), Mamma had beef with arugula (very nice), and I had cinghiale casserole (and kids stole my leftovers!!! Must remember to put lock on leftovers in future.) We decided to try the experiment and find out what nougat semifreddo was for dessert. It turns out to be Snickers mousse. Mark has been to Italy a number of times, but he said this hanging around in the countryside with a “local” (yeah, that’s me, a local) was a whole new experience. I have to admit, much as I love the cities, I’m so happy to come back to my little mountain every time.