• The routine salutation wave every morning from my balcony to Assemio and the smile on his face when I greet him in the street.
• The freedom the boys have to wander and explore
• Incredibly cheap wine from the vendita diretta
• The beautiful and delicious fresh fruits and vegetables at my frutta e vedure

The boys had been asking to go to Pisa.  Everybody has to see the infamous Leaning Tower while they are here, right? 

So as a reward for completing an entire school year in Italy, we decided to spend three days in Pisa, Lucca and Viareggio. 

We still have so many places on our list that we want to go and see and not enough time to do them all before we head home. 

On Saturday morning we head for Lucca.  It’s not far, only a 2 ½ hour drive and we make it to the little town our hotel is located in by lunch time.  We park and begin looking for a restaurant.  Stopping at the local gelateria, we ask the woman working there.  She tells us that just two buildings down is a very good restaurant.  And it was.  It did not look like much from the outside, and even when you first entered it looked just like a caffé and panini bar, but there was a full restaurant in the back and the food was fantastic. 

After lunch we continued on to our hotel.  We were staying outside of Lucca in a small town near Bagni di Lucca.  The road was of course, winding and quite narrow to the hotel and I especially liked the hairpin turn up the steep drive to the entrance.  Although they apparently produce olive oil, the place is not quite an agriturismo as there is not much to see other than the trees, and it is not quite a hotel either, but regardless, it was a very lovely place.

The property is set high up on a hill with a panoramic view of the mountains, valleys, and Lucca.  The hillsides are dotted with stone buildings and churches.  It was very picturesque with the lavender and olive groves and a gorgeous pool and outdoor seating area.    

As soon as we arrived I asked the owner to book us reservations at the attached restaurant.  However a bit later, he came looking for us by the pool.  He explained that the restaurant was unfortunately booked that night but he was going to make reservations for me at one of his favorite restaurants within Lucca.  I had a bit of trepidation at first because I don’t like to attempt to drive into and within a city for the first time at night.  Trying to negotiate bikes, old ladies, teens on cells, pedestrian tourists with their heads buried deep in a map and weaving, swerving vespas while trying to read directional signs and maneuver rotaries is difficult enough in daylight.  And worse, I hate driving within old city walls, getting trapped down one-way alleys and trying to navigate parking. 

But anyway, the very nice owner, Marco, took the time to review the maps in detail with me, show me which one-way streets to take, where to park and how to find the restaurant – a small little place down an alley.  It was well worth it.  The boys and I each had a fish-tasting menu (as we were only 20 minutes to the sea) and it was excellent.  Actually all of our meals in Lucca and the surrounding areas we stopped at were some of the best food and meals we have had and we have had some incredible meals while here.  And – bonus, I managed my way into and out of the city walls of Lucca – at night!

The next morning, Marco ran up to us as we were heading into the breakfast room.  “How did you like your dinner? Did you find the food good?” He asks.  “Yes, yes, we loved it!  The food was delicious and the service wonderful!” I answer.  “Good, good.  I am glad you liked it.  I have another recommendation for you tonight.  A very good, small local restaurant with typical cuisine.  The restaurant has been around for hundreds of years.  Would you like me to make you the reservations?”  I tell him yes, please.  This is one of the many benefits of staying at these smaller, non-chain-type agriturismo/hotels – the more personalized service and the desire to please you.   

That day, we spent wandering and discovering Lucca.  Lucca is a lovely town and well worth visiting, although it barely receives more than a blip in the tour guide books.  Graceful and elegant are the words that come to mind to describe Lucca.

Outside the old city walls, the roads are lined with old palazzi and villas.  Many of them have absolutely incredible art-deco design work.  I would love to take some kind of walking tour to explore these further, but that is something that two young boys simply would not tolerate at this point. 

The walls of Lucca are “Soft” and more rounded and the “Portas” or doors to the city are also much more refined and decorative than those you find at most other ancient walled cities. It is not a hilltop city so the whole area is flat and easily walkable.  The large tree-lined streets further add to the charm and appeal of Lucca. 

Marco had again marked up a city map for me of all of the major sites to see and which was worth spending time at.  We went without any set plans but just to see whatever we happened upon. 

First stop, gelato.  Augusto likes to play with colors, trying to see what mix of flavors he can get to come up with the colors of the Italian flag – Red, white and green.  Dante likes to stick with flavor combinations.  Citrus with citrus, nut with nut, creams with chocolates, – he’s like a gelato mixologist.  By the end of the day, we will have hit 2 more gelaterias. 

We saw the beautiful church of San Michele in Foro, and stepped inside during Sunday mass. The boys spent a good half hour chasing pigeons in the piazza next door.  Next we headed towards the Piazza Anfiteatro where the medieval buildings are built on the oval imprint of the former Roman amphitheater, creating a large round piazza.

We then climbed the Torre Guinigi, a bell tower built in the 14^th century by a ruling family of the same name.  Just a mere 230 steps to the top, but who is counting other than me, while wheezing and finally squeezing through the last few narrow steps to the top. The lovely surprise at the end of this arduous climb is the large oaks planted at the top – like a miniature park.  Though it is really not so surprising, as you can see the trees atop the tower from down below at a distance – which is what lured us to the tower in the first place. 

However, once up on top and I had snapped my requisite photos, I began to worry about weight limits.  There was some sort of large 30-plus family reunion group up there, and more than a dozen other visitors, plus us and then of course the weight of those big trees and all the dirt they are sitting in.   And what about those stairs that are just bolted to the brick wall with no other supports?  Do they have a weight limit?  It does not seem that the man at the ticket window is counting or overly worried about any of this. 

After a beautiful fish (again) lunch, we headed towards the wall and its parks.  We had wanted to bike around atop the entire wall, but a thunderstorm was fast approaching just as we were coming up the bicycle rental area so we had to ditch that plan. 

The wall area of Lucca is an attraction unto itself. It is essentially a park with a wide paved path lined with massive trees on either side (Are they Linden?).  As I said, the trees “soften” Lucca’s appearance unlike some walled cities that seem threatening or foreboding.  Occasionally there is an area with playground equipment and water fountains.  There is even a café or two on top of the wall.  From here you can also access the botanical gardens. 

On these pathways on a Sunday afternoon, the Lucchesi, (the people of Lucca) take their afternoon stroll, the passeggiata, as we saw the day we were visiting.  Entire families, walking, talking, some are even biking.  In the park areas, old men are gathered at tables playing games.  It is peaceful and serene and beautiful. 

I loved Lucca.  Truly, I don’t know why it does not receive more attention, but perhaps maybe that is best. 

On Monday morning, we packed up and headed out.  We thanked Marco for all of his help and suggestions.  We then followed the SS12 directly from Lucca into Pisa.  It was a much prettier ride than having to get onto the Autostrada again.  Plus, the SS12 plunked us directly in front of the wall entrance to the Leaning Tower and Duomo with convenient easy-in/easy-out parking (which I am all about) across the way. 

The boys wanted to climb the Leaning Tower.  Of course yet again, another tower, more stairs and no elevator.  It is hot and humid.  And crowded.  I am not looking forward to this one.  Maybe up top there is an incredible view of the surrounding area, but I am sadly just not in to it and pleased just to be taking in the scenery below of the Duomo, the Tower and the Baptistery. 

Regardless, the boys had wanted to come here, it’s their treat, so we head over to the ticket area.  The line is long already though it is only 9:30am.  Tickets for just the Tower are €15 each!  That does not include the Duomo, the Baptistery or anything else.  That would be almost $60 USD for the three of us just to climb the tower! 

However, I thankfully have an out.  The first available timeslot is not until 11:40am.  Judging by the crowds, they must have scads and scads of bus tours.  The boys agree that waiting that long would not be worth it.  Whew! I am out of that one.  However, the restrooms were a bargain at only €0.30.  I tell the boys that it looks like that is all that I can afford today. 

We notice that the Tower is guarded.  I wonder if this is because we had heard that a woman had committed suicide from the tower the previous week. You have to really be determined to kill yourself by jumping from that tower.  It is built like a stacked wedding cake with each continuous segment much smaller than the one below it.  If you took a leap, you had better really push yourself off because you are going to just splat 8 or 10 feet onto the section below.  Those poor tourists looking on from below probably got a lot more than they bargained for – can you imagine their souvenir photos?

Is the guard there to look into everybody’s eyes before they enter to see if they are showing any suicidal tendencies? And think about it, she had to pay the €15 first and wait in line! 

We take a quick tour around some of the surrounding area of Pisa, stopping of course for a gelato.  The boys are anxious however to get to a beach and play, so we end our Pisa expedition and head out in the direction of Viareggio. 

Viareggio is a bit like the Miami Beach of Tuscany with elegant old hotels and miles and miles of shops, restaurants and private pool/beach resorts along its promenade.  We stopped and ate lunch at a restaurant on the promenade which was just so-so and I should have known better by its location but by then the boys were starving and we grabbed the first available spot.  It was great for people watching at least. 

Unfortunately, Miami Beach was not what the boys were looking for. They wanted tide pools and beaches free of chairs and umbrellas so I drove off in search of beach “Mecca”.  We travel south along a wooded area that fronts the ocean and thought if we perhaps go down one of those roads we can find the perfect beach location.  It was not to be found.  Even this area, once by the beach, is built up.  Exasperated and just wanting to get out of the car and into the water at this point, the boys agreed to one of the beach resorts. 

It really is a sight.  There is an entrance to a different one almost every 100 yards.  They all have names and gimmicks to try to attract the beach-goer.  We select the least carnival-esque one which happens to be run by the Misericordia of Viareggio. 

I buy my “spot” on the beach – €5 got me a chair with a sun visor.  I couldn’t get a chair and umbrella because those are placed further back on the beach and I would not be able to keep an eye on the boys.  The buff and well-tanned lifeguard or playboy sets my chair in the sand for me and the boys run off to play in the water. 

This was front row people watching at its finest.  The lifeguard/playboy went off to play beach ping-pong with an tanned pal. I am not sure how effective he would be at rescuing anybody promptly since he is keeping one eye on the ball and the other on a cute girl in a bikini, sunning herself on the beach and never once looking in the direction of the water. 

The water and waves however, were perfect for the boys to body surf and they had a blast.  This was exactly what they were looking for after spending the long snowy winter in the mountains.  By 5pm, we packed up and headed back “home” to Caprese.  We have a busy week ahead of us of packing up and cleaning.  There are school parties to attend and people to visit for the last time.

 Helen had just received a batch of fresh picked mushrooms as a “thank you” from our neighbor Silvia’s mother.  There was quite a variety and because there were many mushrooms Helen was not familiar with, she invited her friends Mia and Juanjo over to help her identify them.  This was the first time I met Mia and Juanjo.  They come into Helen’s kitchen, preview the mushrooms, and discuss the various types and best ways to eat them.  Then they come upon a larger mushroom and immediately a heated discussion starts. 

Mia: “Ah, this one, this big one…It is very poisonous, no?”  Not really asked as a question but more of a statement. 

Juanjo:  “No, this one is molto buono!  You slice it and fry it.”

Mia: “Yes, if you want to die! It is the blah blah blah mushroom.  Very toxic!”

Juanjo:  “It is simply a large porcini.”

Mia: “Why would nobody have found it yet and so it would reach this size?  See how it is dark? That tells me it is the blah blah blah mushroom”

Juanjo:  “You are not sure of yourself this evening. It is perfectly fine.  It is just a large one.  Nobody found it because it must be from a remote area of the forest, it was hidden to be found now.  Or perhaps it is a dark color because the leaves were covering it and this is why it could not be found”  

Mia:  “I would not eat it or risk death!”

Juanjo: “It will be delicious.  I would cook it with a little prezzemolo (parsley) and garlic too, si,si – molto buono!”

And so it went.  I did not know who to trust.  Who is right?  Who knows more about mushrooms?  I had just met them so obviously I did not know who was more seasoned in the knowledge of funghi.  Who are you going to trust literally with your life?  That I left up to Helen.  Who fried them all up and we ate them that evening.  They were quite tasty. 

We are obviously still alive.  What would you have done?  Would you have eaten the questionable mushrooms?  I have to tell you a secret. All that night, any phantom pain that I had, I thought I was suddenly surely dying of mushroom poisoning.  What a way to go…a delicious death.

There are many hiking and trekking trails through this area.  There is the Grand Apennine trail – Grande Escursione Appenninica (GEA) which traverses through the central Apennine Mountains that form the “backbone” of the country.

Another well-known trail that runs through this area is the pilgrimage trail of St. Francis of Assisi – running between La Verna – the site where he received his stigmata – and the town of Assisi.  It follows the pathways taken by St. Francis as he walked the hills in search of spiritual growth and spreading his message of simplicity.  

In this area you hear all kinds of tales of St. Francis and his life of soul-searching.  Many involve his befriending of the forest animals.  When the locals tell these stories, they tell them as if St. Francis were a good friend that just visited yesterday.  If you visit Gubbio, the townspeople will happily recount the story of St. Francis and the wolf.  I like that everybody knows these stories.

Now that spring /almost summer is finally here and the weather has improved, we are seeing more and more of the backpackers walking down the streets again.  Since the Tau trail and the Apennine trails overlap through this area, we never know which one they are following.  Sometimes I just want to call out to them and ask.  With those heavy backpacks and sticks, are they recreating St. Francis’ life of spiritual discipline? It looks like self-inflicted punishment.

We actually have encountered several groups of hikers. They are always fun to meet and chat with.  One couple from Austria had left their camera memory card at home and needed to buy a new one.  The little market here of course did not have one so I offered to drive them to a store in Pieve and back.  Another time, we saw a couple wandering around town and looking quite lost, so we asked if we could help them.  They looked exhausted and needed a small hotel to stay in and a place to eat.  We offered up our suggestions and pointed them in the right direction. That couple was from Munich, Germany.

Small encounters like this make the day interesting.

The trails appear to be well marked with red over white bands painted here and there for the Apennine trail and yellow “T”s or Tau’s marking the St. Francis trail.  These indicators seem to appear every 100-200ft. and often you will see a directional arrow underneath the mark.  You can find these symbols everywhere: on trees, fences, walls, rocks, telephone poles and guard rails. I picture a cinghiale running through the woods with a red and white mark emblazoned on its side.

The “trails” change form frequently:  sometimes steep mountain road, sometimes paved, sometimes gravel, or a path through forests of pine and chestnuts, or sometimes just a dirt lane through farmer’s fields and rolling pasturelands.  These climb up the hills and mountains, and then drop down into the valleys. They proceed along through olive groves and pass by streams and rivers.  They wend past ruins and ancient churches.  They weave through medieval stone villages, some long abandoned and through bigger towns now bustling with traffic.  Rifugios or huts offer sleeping shelter along the way. 

These hikes are for serious trekkers, not day hikers like me – especially not with those monstrous backpacks. 

On their shelves are feathers, shells, various bugs, bees, and frogs, part of a beehive, a bird’s nest, antlers, a skull of a cinghiale, a massive pinecone, chestnuts, walnuts, acorns, assorted rocks and minerals and the recent addition of the road kill snake .  I made them throw out the carcass of a dead bird I found stuffed in the back of one of their cabinets.  Perhaps when we leave, I should donate them to the town of Caprese and they can start a small museum.  I am sure Jole is going to be quite happy to see her terrace clean of all of this stuff.

Have I told you yet about the school lunch program here?  The school that the boys attend has a full hot lunch program. I am not even sure if you can bring your own brown bag lunch, I never really asked once I heard about the hot lunches that they served. 

They have an actual chef with a full kitchen – Luano.  He is something of superhero amongst the kids.  Quite often, after the kids are served, they will bang on the table with their silverware chanting “Luano! Luano! Luano!” like they did this last day, until he comes out and makes an appearance.  Then he always hams it up and does sort of a catwalk parade like a celebrity, to the cheers of the children. 

The cafeteria is very different than the “lunch area” the boys are familiar with from their school in the U.S.  At the school here, each grade has an assigned table and the teachers of each class sit at the head of the table, with the children on either side.  Once they sit down, they speak appropriately and politely because the teacher is at the table.  The teacher will correct each child’s table manners, tell them to eat more, sit up straight, don’t talk with their mouth full, and will not allow them to have dessert if they have not finished their main course.  The boys tell me that the teacher raps the back of her knife on the table when the children get loud or out of control.

In addition to the chef, there are four women who also work in the school cafeteria.  They wear an all-white uniform, white apron and white cap.  They walk around and serve the children each course and offer up seconds to those who want it.  Meals are served on china with real silverware, napkins and glassware.  Water is served from big glass pitchers. 

The boys are certainly going to miss the lunches here.  I loved it when they came home so excited to tell me what they had for lunch that day.  To listen to them describe it in such vivid detail, I knew they were truly enjoying their meals. It always sounded so delicious.  

They receive a four course lunch – Primi, Secondi, Contorni and Dolce.  The meals are as impressive as any restaurant around. The Primi might be polenta with boar ragu, risotto with pancetta and peas, stracchino cheese and bread or a simple pasta pomodoro.  The secondi has been everything from fish to roasted chicken or chicken cutlets, veal steak or veal cutlets, bistecca, and of course, the dreaded slab of mortadella which Dante hates but Augusto loves.  Bread, salad, vegetables and usually a potato of sort are served at every meal and bowls of fruit are always on the table.  Desserts are things like cakes, gelato or panna cotta. 

None of it is frozen, packaged, or processed.  Everything is made fresh, daily from scratch.  The food is real, it’s fresh and it’s locally grown and locally butchered. I see our local butcher deliver to the school weekly.

There are no choices; the lunch that day is whatever the chef has prepared.  And most of the kids, not having ever been introduced to processed or junk food, and used to the type and quality of meals here, eat it all up, without any problems.  There are no chicken nuggets and no corndogs.  There is no McDonalds’ day, no Pizza Hut day and certainly no Taco Bell day.

Here are some interesting statistics that I read from the School Nutrition Association (a US organization):

According to the SNA survey, in the US, more than one-third of schools dish out restaurant-branded items for lunch. Among districts with over 25,000 students, 50 percent served brand-name fast-food: McDonalds, Domino’s, Pizza Hut, Subway and Chick-fil-A are popular, as are Little Caesar’s, Arby’s, Panda Express, Dairy Queen, KFC and Taco Bell.

The SNA survey also reported on the number of schools that cook from scratch. Considering the above, it’s not surprising that over 80 percent of schools cook fewer than half of their entrees from scratch. These numbers also show that almost half of schools use their commodity dollars mainly for processed foods. 

However, Italy sees schools as a vehicle to support and guarantee the promotion of organic agricultural production and the traditional farming of ‘quality’ food products. In fact, Italy has a law that calls for organic and local products, as well as typical and traditional products to be served in schools, hospitals and other public institutions.

Italy, embracing food as always, views lunch as an essential and vital part of a student’s education. School meals are to teach children about local and traditional foods and encourage tastes for the regional customs and way of life. They also use school meals as an educational tool to instill proper eating habits and good manners.

The United States doesn’t have that kind of food tradition. We don’t take pride in our cuisine like the Italians and some other European countries do. Food and food quality just doesn’t seem very high on our list of priorities.

This all makes for school lunches that are about as different as it gets from those in the U.S. Let’s face it, how children eat lunch in US schools is a reflection of the way we eat in America.

Why is it that a kid in Italy is willing to eat a lunch of Polenta with wild boar ragu, veal scallopine with lemon and olive oil and a salad, but our children in the US will not.  How is it that children in another country will eat a healthy variety but in the US, children will not? 

Is it perhaps because we have allowed them to eat processed foods with sugars and preservatives all along and now they don’t want anything better.  They don’t know anything better? 

Our children are eating from a toxic food buffet of chicken nuggets, tacos, hot dogs, corn dogs, french fries, orange-dyed Cheetos and Doritos, juice boxes and those surreal colored drink products.  What the hell is that blue stuff anyway? 

Those same kids, unfamiliar with anything that remotely resembles real food are unwilling to eat nutritious foods and as a result school lunch offerings have changed to accommodate their tastes.

It used to be that children sat down and ate home-cooked meals with their families, and that’s what they expected for lunch at school.  Schools served stew, meatloaf, mashed potatoes, lasagna and Salisbury steak because that’s what students were used to.

Today, it’s about convenience and speed, eating on the run and fast food and microwaves.  I recently read somewhere that if any given population of school-age children were polled; over 30% will have eaten fast food that day. 

Why with something as important as diet and nutrition, are we willing to let our kids down and take the easy route?  We are failing our children with their dietary future.  We are churning out and creating a generation of young eaters with a taste for high fructose corn syrup, sugar, salt and trans-fats.

Healthy eating must start at home.  Children need to be exposed to wholesome and nourishing foods; they need to be offered a variety of different foods.  We need to ensure that eating habits are shaped from a young age and that schools help children make good food choices despite media influence and personal tendencies.

I think we could learn a lesson from the Italian lunch program – children will eat high-quality and nutritious food when presented with it and it is familiar.  And it’s not that hard to have real food, fresh food – unprocessed and made from scratch. Sadly, I think as Americans, many of us have lost that connection with our food.

So how much does all that wonderful, made from scratch, organic and locally grown school lunch cost? Just €2.85! For that price and for all of that delicious food, I wish I could take my lunch there too!

You can read about buying lunch tickets here

I could hear the students just inside the doors first singing then counting down, in Italian of course, from 100.  At zero, they were released and ran out to their waiting parents.  I was just so proud to think that my boys have accomplished so much this year. 

The teachers came over to me in the parking lot to hug, kiss cheeks, say goodbye to us and make sure we were coming to the end of school party the next week.  They also wanted to thank us for their gifts – olive oil hand cream for all of their very chapped hands from using chalk every day.  They still use blackboards here.  Dante’s math teacher’s hands actually bleed every day they are so raw. 

The boys also received gifts.  As did all the students.  Apparently it is customary for the teachers to wrap all of their student’s books and notebooks from the year with ribbon and wrappers to make it look like a gift and then present it to them on the last day – sort of like a diploma.  Some are decorated extravagantly with drawings and pictures from the teachers.  A few days prior, the teachers had asked all of the students to bring in all of their books from throughout the year.  I couldn’t imagine why but thankfully I had hung onto them simply if the boys needed to review something. Normally I would have thrown this stuff out.

The teachers all had tears in their eyes waving “arrivederci” to all of the children!  It was so bittersweet.  Though maybe they were tears of joy?

It was a fun day for the boys at school.  The entire elementary school walked first to Il Boschetto, the local bar caffè and had gelato – on the house, from the self-professed mayor of the town. Then they continued on to the sports facility and spent the day there watching movies and playing games and then finally hiking back to school while singing. 

After school, I took them to swim at the Borgo.  Deborah had invited us.  She is so sweet.  She had tears in her eyes too.  We only have a few weeks left here before we head home to California. 

Tonight a celebration dinner of pizza!

Click to view slideshow.

Curious about truffle hunting, I began to ask Michele questions about it.  Does his father use a dog? Yes. How did he train the dog?  That is a little more confusing to explain but suffice it to say that the dog was rewarded when it would dig and find a truffle.  What does his father do with all the truffles? Does he sell them?  Sometimes.  Mostly to people around here.  Then Michele ran off to go home for dinner. 

But a half hour later he returned.  He had a small paper bag.  Inside he showed me, were two black truffles about the size of walnuts – Tartufi.  Un regalo – a gift he told me.  I am just shocked. 

These things are highly prized and a precious commodity.  As well as delicious.  As of December 2009, black truffles were sold between €1,000 per kilo at a farmer’s market and €3,490 per kilo at a retailer.

They’re ugly little suckers but oh-so-heavenly.  Michele, all of eleven-years-old proceeded to tell me how to clean and store them.  Even the children are in touch with their local food products.

Our area of Tuscany is known for truffles and porcinis.  You will find them on the menu as a key ingredient of every local restaurant. Also, many towns around here will have truffle festivals in the late fall. 

The white truffle is the most famous of all, considered the king of truffles. Its flavor is more delicate than the black truffle and is never cooked – it is only served fresh, shaved over pasta dishes.  But I don’t know if those are found around here.  I think they are found mainly up north.

I don’t know what I am going to do with them yet.  Probably a pasta.  infuse some olive oil.  What a lovely gift.  I am still in shock.

I had a dinner party the other night for a few my local English-speaking pals.  They were craving Prime rib, so I said I would oblige.  They also wanted baked potatoes with sour cream.  These are things you just can’t get at a restaurant here. 

Normally I would buy my meat at my butcher, but since I was already at the Coop in Sansepolcro on Monday, I thought, “Let me just kill two birds with one stone and buy everything here”.  Or so I thought. 

I approached the meat counter, pointed to the slab of meat I wanted and asked for three ribs, the end cut – whole – for a roast.  The man behind the counter is confused by my request.  “Aspetta” he says or “wait”.  So I wait as he goes in back and has a consultation with what appears to be the “head meat man”.  My young counter man comes back out.  “No.  You cannot have this.  I can cut as many bistecca as you want from this end of meat but I cannot give you the whole thing” he politely tells me. 

I am confused.  “Why not?” I ask.  “Because Aldo told me that I could not.  I will cut it for you.  Whatever you want.  How many bistecca do you want?” he says.  “No, you do not understand” I tell him.  “I am making a large roast for 6-8 people.  I need the meat to be whole.  I don’t want it cut. I don’t want steaks.  It is a roast – an American roast” I explain.  I don’t know why I said “American roast” but hopefully it would explain to him my strange request since he still looked perplexed. 

In the end, no matter how much pleading, begging and explaining of our strange American customs of cooking meat, would he cut for me a rib roast.  So I left the Coop confused and in a panic.  I had the feeling that this perhaps might be some kind of Italian law, that they cannot sell the meat as a whole but I am unsure – I have to admit I did not understand everything that my you man was saying other than “I will cut as many steaks as you want” and “I cannot give you the whole thing. It has to be cut”.** 

What do I do now?  I have guests coming who are expecting a Prime Rib roast on the table?  Do I get a bunch of bistecca and tie them all together and roast it that way?  I have one day to figure it out and find a roast.    

I stopped in to see Loreno my butcher.  Hopefully he can help me.  I explain to him my dilemma though not wanting to admit that I went to the Coop first.  So despite the hesitant and puzzled look on his face, Loreno agrees to cut me a standing rib roast.  I had him cut away the chine bones and then tie back on.  “Ah” he said “Like we do for the pork roast – see!” and he proceeded to show me a pork roast that was cut and tied in the same fashion. 

He asked me how I was going to cook it, what do we put on it?  I told him that I cover it with rosemary, thyme, sea salt and pepper and then roast at a very high temp for about 20 minutes then turn down to a low temp for another one hour or so.  This ensures a nice crispy outer crust and rare inside.  “Maybe I will try that one day” he said.

While I was standing there waiting for him to trim and tie the meat up, I noticed some cards in a holder on the counter.  They looked like pedigree cards.  I asked Loreno about them.  So what does he do?  He stops what he is doing, steps out from behind his counter and starts going through each card with me. 

Each card is numbered and then he points to show me that each tray of beef is numbered.  The card matches up with the tray.  All the meat on that tray comes only from one cow.  The card then indicates where the cow is from, its ear tag number, its sire and dam information, when and where it was slaughtered, etc.  He takes five minutes out of his time to go through all of this with me. You certainly know where your meat comes from this way! 

I should have known better.  I should have come to the butcher shop first, but I wanted convenience.  Now I have my roast and I received a quick lesson in my Italian meat!  Proving once again that a supermercato is just not the way to shop.  For personalized service, buy local.

**By the way, if any of my Italian friends out there know the reasoning, let me know.  I am truly curious.