“It is indeed bad to eat apples. It is better to make them all into cider .” ~ Benjamin Franklin

 

A few weekends ago we were invited to visit some very dear friends for their ‘Annual Apple Pressing and Cider Making’ weekend.
This was the first time we were able to catch up with friends since we had arrived home from Italy.
We have been used to Italian traditions and festivals for the past four years. Being away from England, we have come accustomed  seeing everything as a traveler does for the first time in a new land.  In the past, regrettably, we perhaps took our home country for granted, not truly believing, or even understanding that we too have our own traditions and festivals to be marveled at.

And what a weekend it was! An English country house and garden in an English village, making cider the traditional  way, their way.

The Early autumn sun shone gladly down on this picturesque village of Great Addington that Saturday. The sunlight glowed warmly on the cosy lush green foliage of the typical country garden.

The relaxing  garden and traditional brickwork of the lovely house made a  stunning setting for the all-important ritual of the cider making.

Wheel barrels, tubs, boxes and bags of green, rosy, pink, red and yellow apples lay waiting ceremonially for the grand pressing.

The sweet smell of crushed apples met us, along with the warm greetings from our dear friends.

The apples were being crushed and crumbled by the put together rumbling contraption. Exceptionally effective and proficient. The proud family group all pitched in to what was now an ongoing tradition. A team effort.

The ‘crusher’ stood proudly in its wooden frame, inside the wooden box lay an array of tortuous nails which were powered ingeniously by an electric drill. The traditional homemade full scale production line in full serious mode.

Teams of friends  took their turn on watching over the ‘apple presser’. Adding the washed apples watching the pulp pumping out of the end. Some of the amateurs among us needing a helping hand when the presser became stuck and overfull and the expert family, good naturedly, guided us along.

The crusher rumbled and groaned its way through mountains and mountains of delicious English apples, all from their garden and the many visiting neighbour’s gardens.
The friendly charming atmosphere created by friends meeting friends, trying their hand at the mechanics and pitching in. Of course with the help of wine and cider flowing, barbecue sizzling and chattering and laughter.

Friends and family watched and encouraged the team while they worked.

The  apple pulp known as the pomace or pommy was  scooped into the neatly shaped and measured cut calico which lies inside a wooded frame. The traditional material is  folded with precision covering the apple pulp. Up to four square folds lay neatly on top of one another, ready to be pressed. The press, like all the other equipment  has been creatively mastered to perform its important function.

The Oscar had to go to the leading role of  press ‘the lorry Jack’ which professionally performed magnificently the all-important juicing.

Strong beautifully fragrant juice spurted from the plastic tube attached to press, collected into a large vessel ready for the cidering process. Guests were given their souvenir bottles of freshly pressed apple juice for their own collection.

The Juice was collected in large tubs to then undergo the all important fermenting process.

No yeast is added, traditional cider making relies on wild yeasts. The fermentation starts in 1-2 days and continues for several weeks, during which time the barrel is topped up with more cider. When fermentation is over, the bung is replaced and the cider matured for 5-6 months.

Nothing is wasted during the process. The apple pulp left over is then donated to the local pig farmer to feed his pigs.

 

Thank you to our dear friends Peter and Alison Little, their family James, Harry and Rose, and of course all the their friends in the neighbourhood of Great Addington.

Dear Italy, time to say goodbye…..

“It’s a funny thing coming home. Nothing changes. Everything looks the same, feels the same, even smells the same. You realize what’s changed is you.” — F. Scott Fitzgerald

So our life once again turns at the  fork in the road.

We travel back home to our country, older, wiser and calmly ready for our next great adventure.

Italy was magnificent, a beautiful country that taught us many things about life and ourselves. We made many wonderful friends that we hope to keep. Italy touched our lives.

Dear Italy,

It’s been a month since we said goodbye. Just one month ago we once again packed our bags and put the contents of our lives in boxes to be shipped back to our home country.

It was a great love affair- we lived, laughed, loved and cried together.

You were kind but cruel.

You are gracious, mighty, beautiful yet sometimes austere and difficult to understand.

Your outstanding beauty, charm elegance and your artistic greatness has carved everlasting images and shapes on my mind.

I can now see with different eyes, speak with a different tongue, feel different emotions and understand with a different mind.

Your light, your music, art, culture and way of being has touched my soul.

I will remember you with nostalgia. Your spell-blindingly beautiful countryside, your nectar like wine, the sumptuous food, the romance and incomparable education you have given me.

You have been like a masterful lover who has cleverly taught his innocent student how to look again, listen again and understand again.

Some lessons were hard to learn,  tears were shed, souls  tested,emotions ran cold  hearts  broken but all embracingly it has been an unforgettable experience.

It was hard to say goodbye, but the lessons learnt from you will guide us confidently to our next very big adventure, coming home again.

Arrivederci dear Italy……

“One doesn’t come to Italy for niceness,” was the retort; “one comes for life.
― E.M. Forster, A Room with a View      

Look out for my new blog ‘From  Verdi to Elgar.

Nostra Vita: what a wonderful world

Photographs can tell us many stories, some can be realistic paintings of serenity and poetic beauty.  The colours, the landscapes,  scenery give images of beauty, but what is missing?  The other senses:  smell, sound, touch and taste. With this in mind I will try to narrate this adventure using the five senses.

We were introduced to the wines of this winery by Virgilio our local wine bar owner. He had talked about a small family run winery in the Tuscan hills, a stone’s throw from Montalcino. He talked of a great man, an artist, a wine maker and lover of the land. He spoke of how the winemaker paints each and everyone one of his wine labels for the Brunello by hand, each has an individual characteristic, no label the same.

Touched and impressed by the passion and dedication of this winemaker and with visions of the romantic Tuscan countryside we were half way there in our imagination.

Last weekend, we and our wine-loving friends set to make the dream a reality. A trip to the Tuscan hills.

 Our intention was to visit a selection of wineries in the Tuscan area on the Saturday, then further a field on the Sunday. That was until we found the ‘Hotel California’ of vineyards.

Nostra Vita, a small hilltop vineyard near the town of Montalcino was what we believed to be our ”first stop’ on the itinerary.

After our small convoy of cars climbed the hill we were greeted by a very happy and friendly Labrador at entrance, followed by a very jovial and courteous couple, the wine maker Annibale Parisi and his wife Elena.

We were quickly invited in and taken to the terrace of their house, here the explosion of senses, emotion and well-being quickly contained us.

Imagine gazing at a magnificent view:

Now imagine gazing at this view, sitting in a white soft cushioned wicker chair with Louis Armstrong singing ‘Wonderful World’ at full volume.

Or Pavarotti singing his heart out in Puccini’s La Boheme.

Our host Annibale Parisi took us enthusiastically on a tour of the Estate.

He started by showing us the heart and symbol of their family business.

A magnificent old oak tree. Here the first foundations of their dwelling were laid. He explained that the tree was the catalyst, not only for a family home, but a new life, their life, their concept, their family vineyard ‘Nostra Vita’.

Nostra Vita’s energy has inspired the family’s artistic talents, including Artists Annibale Parisi and his daughters Carlotta Parisi and Giuditta, a graphic artist.

Trees, brightly painted wheel barrels, music, food, wine, herbs, and numerous sculptures: an onslaught on the senses. Barrels of aromatic herbs, flower blossom, sweet cherries, an abundant vegetable garden filled the air with delicious aromas.

The all important vineyards and the cellar and production hall.

The “Arborario”a ‘tree library’, a truly stunning and beautiful encyclopedia of the Tuscan trees with tree boxes containing the complete history and story of the trees around the estate.

The wine tasting: Our host took us through the collection of wines, with smatterings of luscious cheese, crisp breadsticks, and tasty fennel seeded salumi.

We talked endlessly, enthralled with the wine, the art, the countryside in the heated breeze and the hot Tuscan sun.

Warmth, friendship, laughter touched us as we exchanged through different languages helped by human kindness. Annibale told us ‘I am not a great awarding winemaker, I don’t intend to be, I make the wine I love and want to share with everyone’.

This was illustrated in another painstakingly process he dedicates his time to, the painting of each and every wine label for the Brunello wine.

Always using the same colours to symbolise their  land, earth, warmth of the heart and light of the soul (red, yellow, brown and white).

We soon realised that visiting this estate  was an opening, a welcoming door into a firm tenacious family’s intellect, life and mindset.

An unforgettable opportunity to wonder at a beautiful example of the strength of family ties.

A energetic sense of hope, inspiration and creativity. The artistic sentiment and detail spins in everything and everywhere. They are a family of land lovers not afraid of hard work, because they feed from the inspiration of the nurturing Tuscan countryside.

Warmest thanks to our hosts.

http://www.nostravita.it

Mille Miglia, third leg in Parma: Part 1

Last Saturday the sophisticated and reserved city of Parma was shaken and stirred by rumbles and roars, fortunately not by an earthquake, but a storm of colour, noise and excitement. For the first time the Mille Miglia used Parma as an overnight stop,  closing the third day of race: the route had started in  Rome, traveled to Parma, via Viterbo, Siena, Pisa, Lucca and Abetone. This was a special milestone for the city of Parma as in previous years the race had either bypassed or run through with just a time check. This year the magnificent endless fleet of the most beautiful and elegant classic cars in the world took centre stage in the modest streets of Parma. The Mille Miglia , is said to be the “most beautiful race in the world.” 1,000 miles of Italy’s most beautiful regions, starting and ending in Brescia. Only the cars selected from the models which took part in the original race can participate to Mille Miglia,  teams come from all over the world. The cars were not due to arrive until around 9pm that evening. Parma, the city was taking it all in its stride, that afternoon there was very little clue that the grandiose collection of classic cars were coming to town. A few barriers here and there waiting to be put in line. The city had more of a buzz than usual with tourists milling around, but still a blanket of composure resided. Some great friends of ours had driven from the UK to share the magical experience with us. We left our apartment like a bunch of excited teenagers, strolled down the main Via Republica, capturing the atmosphere as we went. The calm before the storm. The plan was to find an initial viewing point, strategically placed where we could sit and watch the beginning of the show, a perfect result, a   bar placed on the main roundabout where the cars were to pass by.

Perfect for the Parma ‘Aperitivo’.  We didn’t need to wait for long, the tribute, the warm up act arrived….. The thunderous roar of engines abruptly interrupted our quiet Prosecco. The Italian stallion Ferrari’s engines resounded throughout introduced with flashing lights and sirens, a brigade of police motor bikes.

Following the fast and furious Ferrari’s came the sedate sophisticated Mercedes all in line, well behaved in quiet perfection.

As the evening darkness pulled its curtains on us, Parma shone in its splendour beckoning the weary classic car drivers to finish their endless journey. They had driven from Rome through the magnificent Italian countryside, through historic cities , Lucca, Siena, Florence, over mountains and around country lanes.

The crowd’s excitement was infectious, the drivers drove past catching the bug of enthusiasm, finding themselves energised. The energy reverberated back and forth, spectators to drivers. High fives, cheers, waves and shouts encouraged them on to the finishing line for that evening.

Some of the many highlights of the evening included welcoming the celebrities from the British Jaguar team Jodie Kidd and David Gandy slowly crawled wearily in the long queue into the historic town of Parma, tired but elated.

Later came James Martin and Charley Boorman, again part of the British Jaguar team.

The long queue led to the  Piazza next to the Duomo, which  was the central stage, the drivers and cars were introduced to the public, a few lucky people had prime viewing as they had booked their seats in an open air restaurant.

The commotion, elation and buzz of emotions continued on well into the late hours. Weary drivers made their way to their hotel after parking their machines in the magnificent Parco Ducale, rows upon rows of the most beautiful, historic, classical and expensive cars sat there recuperating, some ‘being looked after’ by the dedicated teams of mechanics.

There was still time for us to watch and stare, while eavesdropping on the team’s stories while sipping  a glass of Prosseco. And tomorrow…………… tomorrow is another story…………………. Next……………….Arrivederci e buon viaggio …. The race continues…..

Mille Miglia Part 2 : THE NEXT MORNING Buon viaggio e Arrivederci!

The next morning bright and early we, now the ‘intrepid enthusiasts’, sneaked back into the park to see the sleepy teams arrive and make their final alterations and clean up before the final lap. In the morning light the array of shiny classic mobiles was  just as, or perhaps even more, thrilling.

The atmosphere was lively with smell of engine oil, engines roaring into life, although there were the few more reluctant which grumbled and spluttered, but with a bit of team work and a push they were off around the park.

Lucky for us the bar was open so we sat back to tuck into the standard Italian breakfast, cornetti and brioches together with a cappuccino and watched the show.

Even had prime seat to see the celebs arrive…. and leave in style.

The park was slowly emptying, most of the cars had made their way towards the starting line, all in number order.

One of the last was part of the Jaguar team, Charley Boreman and James Martin were going over the final checks, getting ready for the last lap. They were very relaxed and happy to chat about their adventures. We cheekily took advantage by asking for them to sign our official Mille Miglia  Poster that the bar owner had kindly given us.

We wished them on their way as they drove off to the top of the park and starting line, but due to the bottleneck of the queue we soon caught up with them.

An excellent opportunity to admire the beautiful motors before they left and a chat about omelettes, that is, James remarking on the number of omelettes each car was worth, yes….. a lot of omelettes!

An hour later after the last car had left, we wandered back through the empty still park……………..All was back to normal, as if nothing had happened.

Primavera

La Primavera, at last, has woken. The first blue skies of spring beckoned us to the glistening blue sea once again.

This time a right hand turn before La Spezia takes towards the refinery of the Western Ligurian coastline. The journey takes us through breathtakingly beautiful icing sugared mountains, fresh green hills and wandering coastline. Snow peaked alps peak through regally as a theatrical setting.

Once off the autostrada, we are  taken into the chaotic Ligurian Coastal town of Rapallo, a mixture of the worlds of yesteryear and modernity. Luxurious hotels dominate skylines next to quaint family run boutique guest houses.

The harbour is the home of magnificent millionaires yachts, sitting proudly next to fishing boats.

We decided to walk from the next town Santa Margharita to Portofino. A peaceful, but stunningly beautiful saunter along the coastal path in the warm sunshine.

Approximately 5 km walk each way but well worth it, especially on a spring day. We watched the  yachts smoothly skipping and sliding along the crystal blue Mediterranean Sea . Beautiful people in their Maserati’s, Porsches, and open-topped Bentley’s slide majestically past us like a scene from Great Gatsby.

Meanwhile in the ramblers world, people pass us by with a ‘buongiorno’ and a smile. Just less than an hour later, we are welcomed to the opening scenes of the small town of Portofino, understated, peaceful and serene; it gently opened its stage curtain for us to catch sight of its unassuming and quiet beauty.

A small set of stairs took us down into the main Piazza where a hub of activity met us. Boats bouncing lightly on the deep indigo blue sea. People were sitting chattering and laughing outside in the Piazza’s  central cafés soaking up the spring’s sunshine.

No hurry here, plenty of time to stop and stare, after all it is a very expensive view!

A wander around the town to glimpse it’s beauty and character.

A quick look at the prices of the restaurants and then……. a decisive turnaround back to Santa Margharita in search of good value ‘cibo’.

This time we took the foot path above the road, giving us more of an advantaged view point.

Once back in Santa Margharita, we found a lovely old Trattoria which catered extremely well for our appetites.

Gulf of Poets and Pisa

Since I was a child I have always been fascinated by the ‘Leaning Tower of Pisa’. I never believed it was possible that it could stay standing at such an angle for all these years.

On saturday it was one of the very rare occasions when ‘the teenager’ not only agreed to come out with us, but also suggested for us to visit Pisa. How could we refuse? The deal was to go via the coast. At this time of year we always  yearn for the fresh sea air.

Blue skies and brilliant sunshine beckoned us towards the Ligurian coastline. An hour’s drive on the autostrada via the Apennines took us to the sparkling blue waters of the Golfo dei Poeti. Lerici stretches out in the glittering sea decorated with graceful sailing boats skimming and dancing along the surface like beautiful ice skaters.

A long amble along the coastline to catch the March rays. A sit in the sheltered rocks to recharge the batteries, watching the world go by.

Pisa is perhaps just over an hour from Lerici. As late afternoon took the power from the sun’s rays, the cool breeze reminded us of our next stop.

Perhaps we had little expectation, but Pisa proudly suprised us.  Elegant castle walls protect the small delicate almost toy like buildings.

All was very peaceful and quiet. The beautiful almost miniature buildings stand in state in the cobalt blue night sky.

And yes our traveller had to try to do his version of the all important photo of the Tower.

SMOOTH ‘SOAVE’ AND SOPHISTICATED

Soave is approximately an hour’s drive west of Venice and 30 minutes east of Verona. The town is well-known as one of Italy’s best small towns. Its main feature is the hill-top castle which stands in splendour on a hill in the Veneto countryside.

The fairy tale beauty is framed by vineyards stretching over the soft rolling hills. A pleasing sight when driving along the ugly nearby Autostrada A4.

A perfect stop for lunch. Although the town was very quiet, we had no fear of not being able to find a good place to eat. A few steps away from the centre we found our restaurant.

Inside was a warm inviting array of shelves of wine, wooden tables, stained glass windows and stone walls.

Lunch was served and we were treated to a crisply cool and softly tasting glass of the beautiful local Soave wine and some antipasto.

Primi piatti followed,  an excellent pasta dish.

Feeling well nourished and content we were ready to explore the town further.

A short climb up the hill takes you to one of the most beautifully preserved medieval castles in the region.

Reportedly the castle dates back to the 10th Century. A fantastically preserved drawbridge stand proudly at the north entrance.

The drawbridge leads you around to the grounds. Here you can’t help feel a strong sense of the castle’s history. Towers present a cross sectional view of what may have been before.

We are then led to  the spectacular main rooms of the castle. Unfortunately photographs were not permitted inside the rooms.

Small pockets of history are found all around like a treasure trail.

The castle walls were a perfect canvas for the stunning countryside.

The area is also well known for Soave wine. I hate to admit that previously, my  knowledge of Soave was limited. I thought the wine tended to be only  cheap and cheerful part of the good wine spectrum.

Happy to be proved wrong, we thought it would be rude not to stop at one of the local wine producers on the way back through the town.

This was also a very good descision.

Another very satisfying experience. The wine was superb. Unfortunately we may have to go back again as we do not seem to have bought enough.

But that is not a problem as Soave is definitely worth visiting more than once!

Murano, The Island of Glass

A cold boat ride took us away from the lively sights and boisterous sounds of the Venetian Carnival.Th boat silently glided in the Arctic-like cold sea to the beautiful serene island of Murano. 

A minute picturesque ‘little Venice’ with a charm of its own. Cold, stark, blue sky frames the beautiful rainbow of colours of the unpretentious brightly painted houses.

After the florid and flamboyance of Venice, Murano seemed to be opening its welcoming arms to embrace you into its soft beauty.

Freezing cold and hungry we embarked onto the jetty in search of the first restaurant we could find, to warm ourselves and hopefully have a hearty meal.

We were lucky to stumble upon the  Trattoria Valmarana, which was just all that and more. The friendly sign led us eagerly  to ‘sala da pranzo’.

Beautiful Murano glass plates and glasses decorated the table, an added bonus was the house wine was served also in Murano Glass jugs.

We knew the food would be good, as the restaurant was full of what  seemed to be, many local people who were also lunching here. Italian language filled the air excitedly as we settled into the comforting friendly atmosphere.

After lunch, feeling  contented, especially as our feet had thawed, the world seemed a warmer, brighter and friendlier place to be.

We chatted with an English couple on a neighbouring table, who told us they had been coming to the Carnival in  Venice for a week every year for the last ten years. Lunch at this restaurant was a regular stop on the saturday before they flew back to the UK. They had become experts in Murano Glass buying.

They explained that unfortunately much of the glass for sale in Venice is not authentic Murano Glass. They  were happy to give us some tips.

• Always buy glass that is signed, or has a certificate to show it is authentic.
• The sticker on the glass should have the words: Vetro Artistico® Murano –
• Shop at stores that carry the “Vetri Artistico” seal.
• Check the bottom where the glass has been blown, the smaller the hole the better the quality.
• Hold the glass to the light, although coloured it should be clear glass not smokey.
• Cheap authentic Murano Glass does not exist. It will be a copy.
• http://www.muranoglass.com/en/

So armed with this information we set off to learn more about the stunning Glass. The shops were abundant with striking works of art.

Warehouses and museums surrounded the canal sides of this beautiful little town. The colours of the buildings mirrored the colours of the glass displayed in the shop windows.

As the afternoon wore on crowds arrived, adding to the atmosphere. A carnival atmosphere for the children, music, dancing, balloons flying around, smiling laughing and pure happiness swept along the streets.

As the light fades, the town was gently illuminated by its own artistic works.

We boarded the boat for Venice and left the exuberant Murano. Happy to have shared the beauty of this elegant Glass Island.

Were we tempted you may ask?

Yes our souvenir of Murano sits very elegantly on display at home, a reminder of a  glorious weekend.

 

 

Nightfall in Venice

The magic of the day wanes as the warm tones of colour fade with the setting of the sun. The street lights kindly paint geniality to the chilling atmosphere. 

The curtain of darkness has fallen while the second act is prepared. Night fall brings a different, almost sinister and surreal theme.

Different parts of the city are consumed with an ever-increasing multitude  of masked party-goers. We joined the masquerade, drifting from place to place.

The eerie surrounding streets, reminiscent of an Ian McEwan novel, swept us along. The backdrop everchanging. Our senses heightened by the darkness, noises of  laughter, shouting and singing.

Then like a spell, omnimous stillness.

We are drawn from the strange silence to a square where roaring crowds of students dance to the booming, repetitive, hypnotic  beat of the party music.

Here, it felt comforting to be  part of a happy tribe again.  We decided to stay for a while, so after a beer or two we left the party echoing behind us.

Taking the route along the canal side, again we are in peace and serenity.

The peace was broken by arrival at the festivities of the vastness of Piazza San Marco. Here the night, still young, has bewitched the square. Veiled, almost intimidating exhibitionists pose and preen, dance and revel.

The best views are found at the Cafe Florian, Piazza San Marco. Said to be the oldest cafe in Italy.

Theatrical scenes of Georgian times are seen. Theatre of the Human Zoo.

This is the less romantic, licentious and  adult side to Carnival. Proud powdered faces stare at us;  some, in a sneering and detached manner.  A rich display of eccentric vanity.

The window to a zoo, but it is worth contemplating it is us looking at them?  Or are they looking at us?

After all,

we are outside in the cold and

they are in the warm and in their finery.

 O Carnival of Venice!–

So chilling sad, yet ever warm!
Where laughter toucheth tears supreme,–
How hast thou hurt me with thy charm!

MOONLIGHT Theophile Gautier’s poem:

Variations On The Carnival Of Venice.

Special thanks go to Clare and Chris for contributing some of the photographs.