Italy: Part 3

As I mentioned in my first post, the first week of my trip was spent at a country house in Tuscany. Our basic routine was to sleep in, have a leisurely breakfast then embark on a day trip to a nearby village to explore the historical and culinary gems it had to offer.

One village that offered plenty of both was San Gimignano. Known for its wild boar prosciutto and war-ready, historical structures, this little but fascinating village took up most of one day. First stop was the gelato cafe, since at that point I hadn't had any (I know, most visitors eat gelato on a daily basis in Italy!). The almond (cantuncini) gelato was smooth, creamy and the perfect snack to fuel ourselves for a day of walking.

The village of San Gimignano has been around since the third century, apparently. The streets, all stone and narrow, weave in and out of little alleyways that lead to spectacular views of the towns in the valley below. The village is perched up on top of a hill, as many of the villages in this region are.

Did I mention the town is known for its wild boar prosciutto? The San Gimignano-ans don't mess around; just take a look at this hairy piece of meat that hung in one of the store windows. Yes, you buy it complete with the hair and hoof attached. Just imagine having that sticking out of your suitcase as you go through customs. "Oh, that! It's just my hairy leg of pig! Don't worry, officer, it's dead and it tastes incredible!"

The village is full of tall, stone towers that don't seem to be used for anything in particular. Some historians will say that, back in the day, rich families erected these towers as a sign of wealth and power; the taller your tower, the more respect and prominence you received. Others disagree and say the towers were actually for the more practical purpose of drying out the saffron cloths that were the big industry in the area. Regardless of the reason, they are beautiful to look at and intricately detailed in their stonework.

But this is a food blog, and by now you're wondering, "Where's the food??" Wonder no more. We decided to drive a little further to another medieval village, Monteriggioni, for dinner. It was about an eighth of the size of San Gimignano, with several outdoor restaurants bustling within it's towering, surrounding walls.

We chose Ristorante Il Piccolo Castello strictly based on cuteness (nice patio, tablecloths, etc.) and got lucky. I had the wild boar (naturally) parpardelle, which was rich and meaty and perfectly al dente. The last time I had wild boar ragu was at Mario Batali's Babbo restaurant in New York, which in my memory was the best Italian dish I'd ever had. Sorry, Mario; I don't know if it was the whole being-in-Italy-for-real thing or the intoxicating Chianti but I think this place has you beat. But yours will remain as the best Italian meal I've ever had in the states.

For dessert, I went straight for the Vin Santo and biscotti (I'm hooked!), but Sandra opted for a panecotta drenched in chocolate. She said it was silky and light and perfect in every way. I've never seen or tasted a chocolate-covered panecotta before, but from the looks of it, I believe her.

After dinner, we wearily but happily drove back to the country house through the winding hillsides of Tuscany. Well, I was happy to be a passenger...driving in this region is a whole different animal (not unlike the hairy leg of pig). Thank God that Isabelle drove this entire trip; her years of driving in Paris molded her into a fierce defensive driving machine. She was perfectly comfortable with harrowing task of navigating through the barely-there country roads.

But the country roads were nothing compared to the frenzy of Firenze. Stay tuned for tomorrow's report on the bulging sack of crazy that is the city of Florence.