I wake around seven this morning but our room remains relatively dark. As my habit on previous mornings, I creep from our bed and part the curtains that cover the large French doors of our bedroom to peer out onto the olive groves. No workers yet. Dark gray clouds swirl outside and while it’s not raining at the moment, it appears imminent. This is more the weather I expected from our trip.
I throw on my walking clothes (including long underwear) and wait outside in our sitting area, updating my journal, hoping my walking buddy will appear. He doesn’t. It’s his birthday, so I’m guessing he’s getting a little birthday surprise and decide to head out on my own as the church bells ring out 8:00.
As I leave the house, I feel a slight mist but nothing major so I shrug it off and continue. Originally, if this morning had been nice, we talked of hiking over to Santa Anna but I doubt that’s going to happen.
I stroll through town, nodding at the garbage man as I pass and when I get to the fork in the road, I bear left for Petroio rather than right, down the hill, towards Pienza. Chris walked to Petroio yesterday and said it was nice – the sign says 3 kilometers, I figure just over 3 miles round trip and decide to go for it.
I didn’t bring my camera and around the next bend in the road, I immediately regret my decision. I spy this religious building of some sort, stark and gray but enticing. I approach the gate, no one is around and I peer into the courtyard. It’s the town’s graveyard filled with hundreds of colorful flowers, in stark contrast to the gloominess around me. Relatives left the flowers on Sunday, the Day of the Dead, for those who went before. Stephanie and I both commented earlier in the week that it’s a wonderful tradition.
I continue my walk as the slight mist turns to mostly mist and as I finally approach Petroio, to the sounds of their church marking 8:30, rain. I don’t hike up into the town which looks ancient and gloomy because I’m getting wet, and because, well, I’m a wimp. It seemed like a steep climb.
Other than the rain, one car honks me and dozens of other cars pass in both directions, the walk is relatively uneventful, though I must say the scenery again is magnificent. Oh and while the other direction led straight down (and then back up) this walk had both up hills and down hills, in both directions, so never too strenuous at any point in time. Oh and there’s also a fabulous view of Castelmuzio upon the return, which of course, I didn’t get because I forgot my camera!
When I return to the house as our church chimes 9:00, I see Chris pulling Rick’s car from the parking space. He sees me and smiles. Apparently, Becky grew concerned that I hadn’t returned when the rain started, and insisted Chris go and look for me. It’s a good thing I returned when I did because Chris would have gone in the entirely wrong direction towards Pienza. We pull the car back in, and return to the house, where Becky waits with a large dry towel and big smile for me. Rick appears shortly thereafter wanting to know if I want to walk – uh been there done that.
After I change, and dry off we head over to the bar for our morning capuccino and to catch up on our blog. If it had to rain, it couldn’t have come at a better time, because we planned to take this day slow.
After breakfast, we decide Rick, Chris and I would head into Pienza to purchase some supplies for lunch while Stephanie stays at the house to pack and hang with the kids. Unfortunately, because of the rain, there would be no more olive picking today.
It’s an easy ride to Pienza, through town, down the hill, up another hill, down that hill, through some flats and a left turn onto the 146. When the 146 turns left towards Montepulciano, we stay straight and manage to find some free parking along the outer walls.
We walk from one end of town to the other. Our first stop, a butcher (Macelleria) that has a huge roasted pig in the case – finally the famed porchetta sandwiches!! I have her wrap two for us to take home.
Then, we stumble upon a hardware-type store. I guess it appears that he was and mostly is a hardware seller – or purveyor of everything but foodstuffs and at some point at time, decided to stock a few touristy items as well. What draws us to the store was a display of pasta rollers in a basket in the front. We think it would be funny to purchase a pici roller for Stephanie since Alison seems so addicted.
We go inside and peruse most of his wares; it’s really an amazing store. We grab one of the rollers from the bin and go inside. We ask the man if it’s a pici roller and he shakes his head “Tagliattelle.” He goes outside and grabs another roller, a pici roller. When we told him we want two he has to go upstairs and get more from his stash.
Rick buys the Pici roller for Stephanie. I buy one too. I also buy a boom boom milk pot (something to heat milk on the stove. It has an attachment that clamps onto the top with which you can froth the milk, once warmed, for cappuccino), an olive wood handled cheese knife and a ceramic canister that I now use to hold my kosher salt on the counter top. It has the same design I’d seen (and purchased) on my day trip to Montalcino two years ago and I love. I’m sorry now I did not get more pieces.
After he wraps all our purchases and we pay, we continue strolling through town. Cheese stores and salumeria are everywhere but we stumble into one (who’s name I unfortunately forget), down one of the side streets at the opposite end of town.
There’s a lone woman in there and she seems happy we’ve stopped by. She opens a bottle of the Novella for us to try and while it’s a bit too fruity for us (and almost effervescent), we buy a bottle for Steph, since it’s right up her alley. We also taste several different types of Pecorino before settling on the stagianato (sp) and some cinghiale sausage. She’s a wonderful and gracious host and I wouldn’t hesitate to recommend her establishment if only I could remember the name :(.
Outside I run into a latteria to pick up one more container of milk, which should last us today and tomorrow. Milk’s sold in quarts (i.e., litre), not larger sizes, so we’ve frequently run out. While I do that, the guys run back to the salumeria to ask her a location of un forno (a bakery). She gives them directions and we head outside the walls (I think the bakery is actually within the outer wall that runs along the road that runs alongside Pienza – does that make any sense?)
Anyway, we head over there and wait in line behind two other customers. The second customer, an older gentleman, is placing a large order for some festivity he and his wife are hosting. Obviously she sent him to handle this task but he’s flumming it. Chris totally emphasizes, and lucky for the man, the girl behind the counter walks him through the party, how many people and his options. As they talk, I watch the workers in the bakery next door, spread foccacio (but it’s called something different here, beginning with an St), into pans; it smells wonderful in this place. We end up with some of the rosemary foccacia and another rustic type of loaf.
It’s raining pretty good now and we’ve been gone a bit more than an hour, so we decide to head back. The town’s grown more crowded since we arrived and someone immediately stops and waits for our parking space as we pull out.
I want to find a rosticcerria in the hopes of getting a chicken for Alison for lunch and think I remember one across the street from the gas station where we filled up earlier in the week. We turn down the road towards Montepulciano (S146) and find the gas station, but the restaurant I remember, isn’t open so it’s back home.
When we arrive home, Stephanie’s downstairs reading while the kids play upstairs. We fill her in on our adventures and I can tell she’s sorry she didn’t go instead of Rick.
Rick starts another fire in the stove, and we spend most of the next hour or so packing then fixing the girls lunch and finally setting lunch out for the adults. The porchetta’s amazing; we divided the sandwiches in half and with all the other food, we’re quite full. We also open a bottle of Brunello Chris bought in Montalcino on Wednesday which we’d hoped to serve at Rick’s birthday dinner on Friday night before we found out that we couldn’t get one of the local women to cook. Oh well, it still didn’t go to waste.
Later in the day, while Chris and I relax, Rick decides to take Stephanie back to Pienza for a stroll around. Alison stays with us. It’s all a very relaxing day albeit rainy day.
About seven o’clock Kris and Antonio finally arrive. Poor Antonio, driving down from Bergamo hit a ton of traffic near Florence. It’s a bad area normally, let alone in this miserable weather. Throughout the early evening you could hear the wind howling outside and I dreaded our ride down the mountain to Pienza for dinner.
Antonio and Kris freshen up, we pop open some prosecco and toast Rick’s birthday then head to La Pergola for dinner. La Pergola’s on the S146 just before you reach the walls of Pienza (if you’re coming from the west) it’s on the right hand side. I believe the sign actually says Jolly Café, La Pergola.
The restaurant’s not crowded and they seat us at a table for 9. We shove the kids at one end, so we can have some adult conversations, though I’m not sure Becky’s too happy about being relegated to the “kid’s area.”
Now don’t be upset, but like all our previous trips, my note taking fell off near the end of our journey, and I don’t have specifics on what everyone ordered. One of the nice things about La Pergola is they offer pizza in the evenings which I thought would be a boon to Sammi who, since our first trip, had wanted pizza for dinner as opposed to lunch and never managed it. Yet, tonight, she orders the pici instead and Becky has the pizza. Go figure. Alison also has the pici, which looks delicious. As a detriment to La Pergola, the regular menu is a bit limited in that I only remember three choices for primi and three for a secondi, so if you’re not an “open eater” you may want to skip this place.
I start with the tomato bread soup for a starter; the name escapes me. I really hoped for one last chance of ribollita, especially on this miserable day, but this did the trick, thick and delicious. I believe Stephanie and Rick also have the soup. For my secondi, I have a ravioli stuffed with the meat of the local pork (similar to the chiannini beef but only pigs) it’s indigenous to this region. Chris has pici con ragu to start and some sort of filet of that same pork for his secondi. Which reminds me, the English translation on the menu had the maiale wrong, for some reason the menu translated the dish as octopus (or maybe squid; now I can’t remember) anyway the waiter clears up the confusion. Stephanie and Rick both have a thick fillet of steak for their secondi and Stephanie still proclaims it the best steak she’s ever had. Unfortunately, I do not recall what Antonio and Kris have. Though they graciously treat us to dinner, and Antonio handles it in the Italian manner, he arranges to pay the bill without us knowing he did.
We skip dessert that night since Kris brought from Perugia a tiramisu, which is supposed to be some of the best in Italy. We return home to enjoy some espresso there, along with the tiramisu and watch Rick open his presents. Shortly thereafter, we turn in – another relaxing day.
