‘Tis the Season to Pick Olives, tra la la la la la la la la…..

Empty boxes in the field waiting to be filled. Beautiful November day.

Empty boxes in the field waiting to be filled. Beautiful November day.

One of the first questions I am asked when I speak to anyone about olives is, ‘Do you grow green or black olives?’ The answer is that all olives start off their life on the tree as green olives and then they turn black when fully mature. I didn’t know that myself until I came here to Italy, I assumed, as do most people that there are two types of olives grown, green or black. If picked in the middle of October, some of the olives will have turned black and some will still be green. I also didn’t know how beautiful olive oil could smell and taste; it was a complete revelation to me. As a young child my mother had put olive oil on my feet, I did a lot of ballet dancing as a child, I’m not sure what the olive oil was supposed to do but what I remember is the smell, ‘Yuk’, is all I can say.

The first time I experienced newly pressed olive oil I was completely overwhelmed with the freshness of the scent. I had been picking for a few days and it was as though the tree, the olives, the leaves, everything I had been working in and around, had been brought together in liquid form. It was amazing and I honestly felt I could just drink a glass of it. I didn’t of course but I did taste it neat from a spoon without any bread, salad or any seasoning. It was delicious. Mild and fruity, there was a slight after burn at the back of the throat after swallowing. Perfect! The great thing is that after five years of harvesting I still get a thrill when I remove the lid from the 50 litre can of fresh virgin oil, breathe in the perfume and get ready to taste the content.

Empty 50 Litre Oil Can...most exciting picture I've posted.

Empty 50 Litre Oil Can…most exciting picture I’ve ever posted. I suppose I could have pretended it was a full can, (it’s dark inside…)

The next question asked is, ‘What is extra-virgin oil?’ Well, as far as I know it’s the oil that comes from the first pressing and when the temperature of the press does not rise above 30deg. In other words the olives are not pressed so hard that machines get hot and the oil is spoiled. A true extra-virgin oil must be tested to prove that it is free from additives and contain no more than 0.8% free acidity (oleic acid)… bla…bla…bla…I don’t really understand any of this so if you want to know more I suggest you Google it. The oil I have is bloody lovely, that’s all I care about!

Bottle of freshly pressed oil

Bottle of freshly pressed oil

Raccolta delle olive (Olive harvest)

Each year friends and family help to pick the olives. Whether you’re Italian or stranieri (foreigners) it’s the same. Most Italians families living in the countryside have enough trees to produce sufficient oil to last for the year. They use huge amounts of olive oil, not just for cooking but plenty for eating too. They take it with bread or pour it over salad with a little lemon juice or apple vinegar and seasoning. The average Italian family probably use around 40 litres a year, so I’m told.

Helping Hands

Helping Hands

Younger helpers always welcomed! Some eager visitors!

Younger helpers always welcomed! Some eager visitors!

 

More Helping Hands

More Helping Hands

Picking starts in the middle of October, although I have heard of some who begin very early in September in order to have very green oil but I find that a little to bitter for my taste. The press normally opens in October and operates until the end of November or perhaps into the early part of December. At the height of the season the press will be open for 24hours a day.

Spreading the Net

Spreading the Net

A large net (or two) is placed under the tree and then everyone scrapes the olives from the branches either with their hands or with a short or long handled rake. It is difficult sometimes to reach the very top branches but The Man usually gets up the tree with the clippers or a saw and prunes the tree (drastically!). The branches that are cut off can then be conveniently stripped on the ground; onto the net of course. It takes quite a long time and any newcomers are very keen at the start of the day but after about four hours picking the enthusiasm wanes. It makes your back, shoulder, wrists and legs ache and you find muscles where you never knew they existed! Coffee, tea and snacks are provided and then pickers are rewarded with a large lunch and lashings of wine! So it’s not all bad.

Lunch !

Lunch ! (actually 2012 lunch)

The Dog Helping (NOT)

The Dog Helping (NOT)

There are a few dangers associated with olive picking, falling out of the tree and being stabbed in the eye by the very sharp olive leaf. It happened to me a couple of years ago. It makes sense to wear eye protection. It’s also important to take care when climbing the tree, as the older branches can be quite brittle and not able to take too much weight. Take note, The Man.

The Man...at the helm of the olive tree.

The Man…at the helm of the olive tree.

Off to the press with a full load

Off to the press with a full load

Arriving at the Press

Arriving at the Press

Loriana and Maria Pia working hard at the press

Loriana and Maria Pia working hard at the press

Weighing in...one of these big boxes holds about 250k of fruit

Weighing in…one of these big boxes holds about 250k of fruit

The olives start their journey through the press

The olives start their journey through the press

Olives enter the first stage of pressing

Olives enter the first stage of pressing

End Product

End Product

Phew! Finished picking now until next year! Plenty of work left to do with tidying up and more pruning etc., Think I’ll leave that the The Man…and his dog.

‘Twas pig’s trotter…..

Yes, the mystery dish of the last blog post was PIG’S TROTTER, I think you either love it or hate it. It looked delicious and didn’t smell too bad, it had been cooked with fennel and sage in a tomato sauce. I took quite a large spoonful before I knew what it was. For me it was an unnerving experience, I did not like it at all. Gloopy, boney the texture almost made me gag. But I did try it, which I think is the important thing. A couple of people thought it was tripe which is a popular dish here in Le Marche but also something I just can’t stomach.

Pigs Trotter

Pigs Trotter

BUT for me this was the ONLY downside of the meal. The rest of it was absolutely fantastic. Delicate flavours, a variety of dishes, I have put the menu at the bottom and tried to translate it for you. My favourite was the butternut squash and potato soup with rosemary and sage. I also enjoyed the fried herbs, the pork with thyme, bay leaf, and marjoram (this was a pork scallop I think rolled and stuffed). Everyone around the table had particular favourites but the pigs trotter was enjoyed by a select few, or perhaps only two. The Italians seemed to enjoy it though!

I must remind you all that the cost of the lunch was only €22 per head for Antipasti (starters)  Primo (pasta, polenta, beans or other such dishes), Secondo (meat or fish mains) Dolci (desserts) and the price also  included, wine, liqueurs, coffee.

Antipasti
Involtino al centocchio e noci (nut rolls)
Frittelle di campo e crocchette mentolate (fritters and croquettes made from herbs and field plants)
Zampetti al finocchietto selvatico (pig’s trotter in wild fennel)
Pane del Parco aromatizzti (delicious variety of herb bread)

Primo
Crema di Zucca gialla e patate al profumo di rosmarino e salvia (soup as above)
Crespelle cicorie miste (pancakes with mixed chicory and tomato sauce I seem to remember)

Secondo
Maiale in velo al profumo did timo, alloro e maggiorana con contorno di cicorie all contadina
Stuffed rolled pork with thyme, bay leaf and marjoram.

Dolci
I dolci Petritolini
These were sweet biscuits with fennel seeds served with vino cotto (cooked wine which tastes a little like sherry/mulled wine)

After all this Lino appeared at our table with his homemade liquorice liqueur, it was very strong treacle like liquid. I managed a couple of glasses, just to be polite of course! I then spent the rest of the afternoon sleeping it all off.

Beautiful Sprig of Bay

Beautiful Sprig of Bay

 

A little taster for next blog…

Mystery Plate of Food

Mystery Plate of Food

Can anyone guess what this plate of food is? It was part of the ‘antipasti’ ‘starters’ for those non Italian speakers. I’ll be blogging about the meal next week so if you guess right I’ll let you know then. No cheating if you were there at the meal with me!!

Ciao

A Walk on the Wild Side…

mountains Escursione guidato nel parco fra erbe ed olive in fase di raccolta
Guided hike in the park between herbs and olives at harvest (literal translation)

Each Sunday during October and November Petritoli celebrates herbs and olive oil with the Erba Olio Festival. It is the time for picking the olives and taking them to the press, I’ll blog about that soon as we’re in the middle of our harvest now. The Comune (local council, pronounced co-moon-nay) organise events at different venues. They usually involve a talk about wild herbs and then a meal incorporating herbs and olives/olive oil in some way.

Last Sunday with friends, I decided to take part in a guided woodland walk before a substantial lunch priced at € 22 a head including wine, coffee and liquers. at Parco Galeano, a local Agriturismo. An Agriturismo is usually in the countryside, it will have a restaurant, accommodation (B&B), possibly a shop and a proportion of the food served must be their own produce and the remainder must originate within a very short distance (within 20k I think).

The walk and talk was supposed to start at 10am but when I rang to book they said to come closer to 10.30 which my two friends and I duly did. Of course, this is Italy so there was not another soul to be seen. They were working hard in the kitchen preparing our lunch but no-one had yet arrived for the walk…so…we sat in the glorious sunshine, it was about 25 degrees. We waited…and waited…A lady in a tracksuit, anorak, boots and hat arrived after about 20 mins, she carried with her a large bag, she was Italian, we knew she was Italian because of the amount of clothing she was wearing. As it’s October it’s obligatory to wear autumnal/winter clothing regardless of the ambient temperature. We expats of course were in T-shirt and light-weight trousers. We did sport our trainers in preparation for the ‘hike’. This well clad woman definitely didn’t need a guided walk as she proceeded immediately to fill her bag with all types of green foliage and it was soon bursting with a huge scrumptious feast for… a bunny maybe? At least that’s what we thought then, but later we would be so much wiser.

At last our guide Lino (pronounced Leeno) arrived. He was delightful and after introductions and lots of jolly laughter he looked around asked where everyone else was. We shrugged our shoulders and said, ‘solo noi,’ (only us) and pointed also to the bag lady, but she was bottom up in the corner of the abandoned vineyard, digging up some root or other. Lino must have realised immediately that she was ‘on her own’.

Me, the girls and our guide Lino

Me, the girls and our guide Lino

My Italian is not so bad, my understanding is better than my speaking and my two friends Helen and Jan, knew some and a little Italian respectively. It was going to be an interesting walk.  To look the part I wore my walking shoes and my small back pack. ‘Lets get going then! Andiamo!’ I pointed to the track leading down to the woods and parkland. We moved less than a metre, in fact the whole ‘hike’ took us no further than 25 metres from start to finish. Which I suppose is impressive when you consider I took over 60 photographs of different types of herbs, grasses, fruits and other plants, all with varying degrees of health giving properties, ailment fixers, de-toxing thingies, I mean this small area had more goodies in it than any health food shop or whole food store. Gosh and golly it was awesome!

One small area with many different herbs and grasses.

One small area with many different herbs and grasses.

The trouble was there were so many diverse plants with Latin names, family names, common names, nicknames etc., and they often looked very, very similar. I cannot remember a single one…oh I lie I can remember Rucolo Romana (Roman Rocket) with a white flower, but I didn’t photograph that. I already knew the wild rocket with a yellow flower, dandelion, cornflower and blackberry, that was about it. Shepherd’s purse I had heard of but would not have been able to identify. Lino told us it was called Shepherd’s purse because of the triangular shape of the seed pod, shaped like a Shepherd’s purse. Am I repeating myself here rather too much? I absolutely loved every second of Lino’s interesting talk, he knew so much and wanted to share his knowledge with us. We tried hard and he wrote lots of notes down for us in Italian or Latin but at the end all I could remember was,

Non mangiare. Va bene mangiare. Buono per cucinare. Non raccogliere (Don’t eat. Okay to eat, Good for cooking. Do not pick.)

DONT eat this!

DONT eat this!

Not good to cook!

Not good to cook!

Wild Rocket...okay to eat!Wild Rocket…okay to eat!

I’m sorry to say that I couldn’t walk through the fields now and identify many of the ‘va bene mangiare’ and experimenting would not be a good idea. I wrote down the number of each photograph on my piece of paper with the plant name beside it, but when I uploaded the photos I think I must have made a mistake somewhere as I had the blackberry bush identified as Corbezzotto Arbutus Unedo…WRONG as you will all know…the blackberry is Robus Hulmifolius…so there! (hope I’ve got that correct!)

There was one other category this was for the plants that were good for the ‘suocera’ (mother-in-law!) Hmm…

Don't know what this was...maybe one for the mother-in-law?

Don’t know what this was…maybe one for the mother-in-law?

Lino didn't know much about mushrooms and toadstools but he thought this one was okay.

Lino didn’t know much about mushrooms and toadstools but he thought this one was okay.

Cornflower..."put this in the ice cube" Lino suggested.

Cornflower…”put this in the ice cube” Lino suggested.

"veronica" she gets everywhere!

“veronica” she gets everywhere!

Edible fruit, tastes like custard with the consistency of blancmange.  Sounds weird? It was strange but okay.

Edible fruit, tastes like custard with the consistency of blancmange. Sounds weird? It was strange but okay.

Blanket of something delicious (I believe)

Blanket of something delicious (I believe)

Next blog will be about the lunch! Watch this space…..:)

Hebden Bridge…olivespastavino paid a visit…

A Birthday Gift from Hebden Bridge

A Birthday Gift from Hebden Bridge
(well actually from Jean and Steve)

I have met some lovely expats whilst living in Le Marche and they include two good friends, Jean and Steve, who have a holiday home here, with a swimming pool, (but that’s not the only reason we like them – honest!). They come from Manchester and usually drive over from the UK when they visit and they bring with them gorgeous ‘things’ for their home and also bring generous gifts for birthdays and anniversaries etc., Whenever I ask them, ‘Oh that’s lovely where did you get that?’ the answer is always the same, ‘Hebden Bridge!’ So, when I took a trip to the UK earlier this month and stayed with the lovely couple in Didsbury, Manchester I was happy to go along with any of their plans as long as it included at TRIP TO HEBDEN BRIDGE PLEASE!

The Moors (Obviously)

The Moors (Obviously)

I was not disappointed, we went on a Sunday which was a trifle silly as the weather was glorious and of course the world and his wife were visiting Hebden Bridge. I loved the journey across the moors and thought the scenery breathtaking and magnificent. I was sure that I had been to the area before but it must have been at least fifteen years ago and I couldn’t remember seeing the open moorland and far reaching views. In fact I remember being distinctly unimpressed so I don’t know where in Yorkshire I was. I do remember that I went to a factory that made clogs and have yet to find out exactly where that was.

hebdonbridgemill

We had to drive all the way through the town before finding a parking space as it was so busy but I managed to get a taste of the shops as we passed by. I couldn’t wait to have a good wander and nosey about. We lunched at a trendy cafe/restaurant, delicious Spanish Omelette and salad. Yum. Then hit the shops. What a treat, textiles, candles, bric-a-brac, jewellery, bookshops, toyshops, antiques, coffee shops, shoes and so much hand made stuff and craft shops, food markets and lots lots more.

shopping

I saw some great knobs for my kitchen dresser project but couldn’t remember how many I needed (renovation has not yet begun). I loved it all so much but then I never actually bought anything! What a twit. The problem was that I was travelling on trains and planes (no boats this time) and therefore not really in a position to carry much back in my luggage. However,  I have promised myself and informed The Man that we are going back next year with the car/truck and will be filling it up for Italy. He didn’t seem too keen until I reminded him that the Tour de France was starting in Yorkshire in 2014 and wouldn’t he like a roadside seat?

canalfactory

 

bridge

 

To finish off the afternoon we walked back to the car along the canal. Wonderful. I was carried into another time, it seems trite to say it but it’s true. I expected to see children in Victorian  dresses and boots running though the gates at the end of the little roads beside the canal, chasing each other, skipping or playing with a stick and a hoop.

cottages

 

backtoback

The back to back houses had washing lines strung across the road.  I thought that at any minute I would see a Beatrix Potter lookalike..(I know I was in the wrong county but I’m just trying to get you to understand how it felt!)

beatrix

The old mills and factories next to the water looked the same as they might have done 150 years ago. It was peaceful (no traffic sounds) and for a short while it felt as though I’d been transported back in time. It was romantic and dreamy.

canal1

Short lived though! I was soon brought back down to earth by the sight of our car with a puncture. But it was efficiently fixed by Steve.  Jean and I gave him a gold star, excellent work!

puncture2

I have the price for the work on the car, finally….

Image

 

My third attempt to get the bill for the car was this morning successful. Although, he hadn’t actually prepared it, he invited me into the office while he got out the necessary paperwork. ‘You’d better sit down’, he said, then laughed. The phone rang and of course he answered it, he didn’t tell the person to hang on or call back but left me sitting and staring whilst he chatted on the phone as though he (and I) had all the time in the world.  This is typical of Italy of course and I have learned to be patient, this is the way things are done here. I looked at his oily finger nails then my eyes went to the shelf behind where there was a lovely chocolate cake sitting under a plastic cover, the two things seemed at odds, dirty hands and delicious cake. I wondered if the garage men get used to the smell of oil, diesel, grease and petrol? It would put me off wanting to eat anything. They must have special washing machines in their houses just for the dirty overalls. I was thinking all this while I sat and waited. I turned around and looked at the photos on the wall, the usual calendar of naked women and cars and there were also photos of the mechanic when he was younger sporting leathers and astride a rather fancy looking motorbike. Faded family photos also adorned the office and this took my mind back the the dirty overalls, knowing that the wife would be the one to be dealing with them, not many Italian men know how to use a washing machine….I have been lead to believe.

Aha, he’d finished on the phone and smiled at me, adjusted the adding machine and began to punch in the numbers… 110, 45, 67, 18, 18, 19, 31…something like that anyway and then the big one 450…I was hoping that was the total but – unlucky – no, the total came to just under €800. So expensive or not? I think okay, considering six weeks ago we were talking €2,500/3000!

So the waiting is over, I know now how much is, ‘not much’ it’s €800 much.  I took the bill in my hand and smiled.

‘A domani, o dopo domani, o…’ I said, ’til tomorrow or the next day, or…’

That’s the good thing about a small town in Italy, you may wait a long time for the bill but they will also wait a long time for payment. I am British though, so probably won’t keep him hanging on longer than a week.  

I fly through the air with the greatest of ease…NOT

aeroplane

I paid a short visit to the UK last week to see some friends and family. Before I left I got in a panic because the forecast in Italy was not good, there was much talk of Cyclone Penelope, she was bringing bad storms with high winds, rain, thunder and lightening. I’m not the best flyer and panicked that the take off would be dramatic with the plane trying to fight its way off the ground, battling 60 mile and hour winds, bump all over the place and people would scream and shout and I would silently try to control the rapid beating of my heart, the sweaty palms and jelly legs with Yoga breathing; count slowly to four and breathe in through the nose and count slowly to four and breathe out through the mouth, or is it the other way round? Either way it doesn’t seem to calm me or slow the heartbeat, believe me I try it for every take-off and landing.

Before I left for the airport I emailed all my children, just in case…well just in case. They replied with suitable encouragement, ‘you’ll be okay Mum’…’the flight will be fine’…I put on my lucky bracelet and underwear, (yes lucky underwear), I’m not superstitious at all!

I collected my car from the garage – it went like a dream having had the bearings in the gearbox replaced – still no idea of cost though. As soon as I do know I’ll post on here. The weather was pretty dire as I drove to Ancona, and I was intent on observing every little change in the sky, watching the tree tops for the slightest change in movement showing the wind had eased and I imagined myself walking from the car-park to the terminal building getting soaked, cold and with the umbrella being more of a hindrance than a help. I was going to have to dump the umbrella before check-in as obviously it’s considered a lethal weapon and Ryanair would definitely not allow me to take it on board, I expect for a price I could have put it in the hold though. However, I didn’t need it, Yay!

I arrived at the carpark and found complete stillness in the air, very little cloud and no rain. Penelope had obviously decided to stick to the west coast of the country and move south enveloping Tuscany and Umbria, avoiding Le Marche altogether. It’s a mistake a lot of people make, they stick to the ‘other side’ thinking it’s better because it’s been a popular destination with holiday makers and ex-pats for long time. Sadly many people still don’t take the decision to investigate Le Marche with its hilltop villages, beaches and mountains. We have it all.

I do love living here but then I like to go back to the UK to visit friends and to see family, which means I HAVE to fly quite a few times a year. We have only driven back once but it costs more money and takes more time. The advantage of driving of course is that you can fill your car with goodies from England and drive them back. But then there’s always a friend to help with that. Thank you Hugh and Helen for taking me to the shops, I’m looking forward to the delivery next week. Thanks also to Jean and Steve for my stay in Manchester and visit to Hebden Bridge, a blog about that is to follow folks.

I got just as panicky before the return flight as the forecast was again horrendous with high winds, storms, people in Norfolk evacuating their homes,  the full malarkey. I experienced torrential rain hammering on the window of my bedroom and the rattling of shutters which, disturbed my night’s sleep and I awoke in a sweaty state of fear, because of the weather not because it was a trip with Ryanair. Luckily for me it must have blown itself out as the flight was again smooth and incident free. I really must get over my dread of flying, but I think it will stay with me forever. It began after a bad experience about 30 years ago landing at Hong Kong airport (the old one). The plane rocketed around all over the place, I was frozen with fear, my head pushed into the back of the seat in front and two, yes two gin and tonics, one in each hand held high. I couldn’t drink them.  My husband asked the hostess if they could give me something which they kindly did, unfortunately it didn’t work until we’d landed and I then fell asleep in the taxi, missing all the sights on the way to the hotel.  It didn’t help being told afterwards that Hong Kong airport had been on number 1 alert and I think we were the last plane to land before they battened everything down and closed the airport!

I’m not so scared that I can’t fly at all, I know I have to if I want to travel, but when I look around at my fellow passengers they always look so casual and relaxed…but… are they?

Country Car Mechanics, the same the world over….love em!

I cannot believe it has been over a month since I last posted! That is quite disgraceful. No excuses. I’ll try not to let it happen again. Hope all my followers have missed me…I don’t want to know if you haven’t.

Car

A few weeks ago my car began making a terrible swooshing noise and a ‘red light’ flashed on and off on the dashboard. I took it to the local garage man who came with me for a test drive. He was a little unsettled by the right hand drive situation and felt the need to grab hold of the door handle and even grabbed the hand brake at one point. He paled when a car came in the opposite direction as he was used to being a passenger on the other side of the car. The short trip may have affected his subsequent diagnosis.

He shook his head and tutted, as they do, and told me sadly that the cambelt had gone and I was looking at possibly as much as €3000 to fix it.

I was allowed to drive it home and think about it, but not to drive it anywhere outside the village, just ‘piano, piano’ quietly and slowly. I discussed it with my man and we were both pretty gutted as the car is only 6 years old, a VW Polo 1.2.

We talked and thought and googled, (it is a verb you know; to google). Our googling came up trumps there is NO cambelt in the VW Polo 1.2 2007 cars. YIPPEE!!!

So back we went to the car man and gleefully told him, ‘This car has no cambelt’. He scratched his head and said it must be some bearings in the gearbox then. He’s a good and helpful mechanic despite the lack of knowledge re the cambelt.

He’s had the car now for two weeks, I’ve been down twice but he hadn’t had time to look at it. Today I paid another visit and this time my little car was up high on the ramp things, it’s innards sitting on the bench. He smiled. We’ve ordered the part, it will come tomorrow the car will be ready on Thursday at the latest.

‘How much will it cost?’ I asked.

‘Not much. It’s not so serious.’ He picked up one of the parts on the bench and tried to explain, ‘this we need new, this is not so bad, if it had been these..’ he pointed at a large mechanical thing with lots of cogs, the gear box I’m presume, ‘it would be serious but this is not so much.’

‘But, how much? ‘ I asked again,

‘Not much, it’s not serious.’ Oh, so unhelpful.

So, ‘not much’ could be anything, let’s face it, everyone has a different conception of expensive and cheap. Some people might think that €500 is not much when it could have been €3000 but €500 is a lot to me at the moment. I’m hoping now it might be less but thinking about the entrails of the engine strewn all over the bench I’m wondering how much labour it will take for him to put them back and close it up., tidily.

The thing is, a similar thing happened to me in Devon in 2011, with the same car. I drove a few hundred miles from Cardiff to Devon and began to have a problem with a juddering sort of action. I took it to the local garage and he when I told him how far I’d driven he was horrified. ‘I wouldn’t drive it another two feet!’ he said. I can’t remember what the problem was now but it involved ordering a part and they needed all sorts of intricate details about the car so they could get the right bits.

When I phoned them the next day the conversation had been much the same as the one I had today. The Devon mechanic also said, ‘it won’t be much’ and when I asked again he said the same thing but in a different way, ‘it’ll be a good job, not that expensive’, but refused to give me a price. It turned out to be less than £150 so I’m hoping that all country garage men think the same and that the bill for the Polo this time will be just short of €200…

Somehow I doubt it, but I’ll let you know.

England…West Sussex…village green, pub, cricket, sunny Sunday…

Cricket on the Village Green

Cricket on the Village Green

Olivespastavino is on holiday, not Brooklyn New York this time but England. I’m officially here to look after my beautiful granddaughter while mum and dad go to a wedding but right now I’m off duty so I took the opportunity to walk from our B&B High Hampstead, into the village of Lurgashall in West Sussex. What a treat!  A quintessentially English scene, village green cricket match in full swing, a pub and a lovely little store open for Sunday papers and a good selection of fresh produce and other goodies for stocking up the holiday fridge!

Village Pub...Noah's Ark

Village Pub…Noah’s Ark

I’m typing this post from my Ipad and it’s proving to be very difficult so I’m just going to add a couple more photos and leave it there. Suffice it to say, I am loving being here in a beautiful part of England but know that by the end of the weekend I will have had my fix and be more than ready to get back to Bella Italia!

A particularly pretty English Country Garden

A particularly pretty English Country Garden

The Main Barn

The Main Barn

Our fabulous B&B

Our fabulous B&B

P.S There are horses, sheep, dogs, chickens…it’s all fabulously rural England.

Evening Market…

Piazza Del Popolo

Piazza Del Popolo

Fermo Antiques Market in Marche, compared to Arezzo in Tuscany, is not as big and doesn’t have as many furniture or larger antique stalls but the atmosphere is fabulous. It’s held every Thursday evening during July and August and when darkness falls around 8 30 pm it gets very busy and there’s a distinct hum of excitement, money exchanging hands and everyone looking for a bargain.

Antiques and Bric-a-Brac

Antiques and Bric-a-Brac

It was a wonderful balmy evening last Thursday and we met friends for a delicious supper in the Capolinea Café before strolling around the market and savouring the excellent variety of goodies on offer including local crafts, food, bric-a-brac and antique stands. The Piazza del Popolo was buzzing with a mix of tourists and locals enjoying the relaxed ambience, friends greeting each other, laughing and chatting in that familiar Italian animated way, arms and hands flying, purchasers and vendors negotiating for lowest or highest price depending on which side of the deal they were. The Italians strolled about in family groups, like little gangs, Nonna holding the hand of the little ones, Mamma or Babbo, pushing the buggy and straggling behind them, the teenagers eagerly keeping an eye out for school friends they could escape with to enjoy a coke and a conspiratorial chat.

Books and Photos

Books and Photos

Apart from the main square the market spilled over into the big road leading from the Piazza and several side streets; the stands here were mostly craft and local foods, salamis, pecorino cheeses etc., A favourite of mine is ciabuscolo which is a smoked and dry-cured sausage made from pork meat and fat, typical of the Marche region. I love the moist texture and spicy taste. Not sure it’s good for your heart though to eat too much of the delicious stuff. Olive Ascolane are another popular local dish; large green olives which are pitted and stuffed with sausage meat, dipped in breadcrumbs and deep fried. Yummy, my mouth is watering!

Olive Ascolane

Olive Ascolane

ciabuscolo (pink sausage on the right of the photo)

ciabuscolo (pink sausage on the right of the photo)

I loved this stall 'Any Old Iron' !

I loved this stall
‘Any Old Iron’ !

standsHope to make the market at least another twice before then end of this season!