Italian Logic

Tuesday morning we spent time packing up some more items to send home. Once we had gathered up a sufficient number of things, we drove again to the Mail Boxes, Etc. in Poggibonsi to mail the box home. We held our breath as they broke the news to us about the cost. Again, we swallowed hard and paid the bill.

We did get a laugh, however, as the parking lot offered a perfect example of that amusing and unexplainable thing we have taken to calling Italian Logic. As you can see from the photo, the parking lot has a number of fairly narrow parking spaces. On the line separating every other parking space, the Italian owners have planted one of the beautiful tall Italian cypress trees. It will likely be very pretty, especially as the trees begin to grow larger. However, because of the location of the trees, no matter where you park, either the driver or the passenger is unable to open the door of the car. What can they be thinking, we wonder.

After dropping off our package at Mail Boxes, Etc., we took an afternoon drive on the Chianti road, or Via Chiantigiana. This road winds through the fields of grapes that make up the delicious red wine so familiar to this region. I never get tired of seeing the Tuscan hillsides that look just like patchwork quilts made from grape vines, olive trees, cypress trees, sunflowers, and hay. We drove through Castellano-in-Chianti, Panzano-in-Chianti, and the prettiest town of them all, Greve-in-Chianti. We drove with the top to our car down, and as such, we were able to see the breathtaking vistas below as we drove through the region, past numerous wineries and ristorantes.

After an afternoon spent quietly reading, Bill and I put on some decent clothes and went to dinner at the restaurant where my sister and brother-in-law and we had enjoyed that wonderful meal (and fought the insect bombardment) last weekend. You would think that the bugs would have put us off, but the fact of the matter is that the food was so delicious, and the people were so friendly, that we returned, like the swallows to Capistrano, though we had no intention of sitting outside. I had simply not been able to get that delicious veal chop out of my mind.

Last night was, all told, the third time we had eaten there. All three times, the wait staff, though they speak no English, have been extremely friendly and kind. Just like an Italian mother who wants to make sure you are enjoying her food, they bring all sorts of little extras that you haven’t ordered but that taste just wonderful.

The first thing they did was bring us each a glass of sparkling, ice cold Proscecco. Next they brought us a basket of the fried bread covered with heavy salt, as they had done the last time we were there. I don’t know exactly how they make these delicious pieces of friend dough. They are light and fluffy like a doughnut, and the salt makes you simply have to lick your fingers.

This time Bill ordered mixed crostini, and I ordered soup with cannelloni beans. For our main course Bill got grilled chicken and I, of course, got the sublime veal chop. Both came with potatoes roasted with rosemary and sage that melted in your mouth. As I ate my veal chop, I recalled the young boy from the other day picking up his pork chop with his hands, and yearned to do the same.

The restaurant’s manager speaks very good English. In fact, last night he asked us where we were from, and when we told him Colorado, he said his son was trekking through Colorado. I asked him if there was any special preparation or seasonings for the veal chop to make it so delicious. He said nothing but salt and pepper. “It’s all in the good meat,” he explained.

After our meal and wine, Bill ordered the chocolate torte he had eyed the night before but had been too full to eat. It was a piece of chocolately heaven. I enjoyed the biscotti that they have brought to us each time we’ve dined there. All in all, it was a wonderful way to experience our little neighborhood restaurant one last time. And this time, no bugs.