Stone upon stone: an Italian sojourn: Athena's gift

For the second time--as the museum we were keen to visit was not opened on Monday when we called ib--we returned to Torgiana: a neat little town surrounded by vineyards belonging to the Lungarotti family. The family actually live in Perugia, but in Torgiana they have set up two museums about their products: one on the history of olives, the other on wine making.

Always running late we skipped our coffee this morning to try to get time to squeeze in both venues, but, as usual, with the siesta break falling flat bang in the major part of our day we were curtailed by the limited opening hours while we are out and about, so spent too much time in one, and not enough in the other.

Maps charted the biology of olives, and how olives were spread around the Mediterranean like wildfire as shipping took hold: most likely the plants originally coming from Asia Minor, it is thought.

But, way back before shipping, man used oil for light. Containers have been found in caves showing that cave dwellers, too, often sought light by oil. The museum has rooms for the collections of oil containers that man has used over time, from the rough hewn stone disks used for millennia, to simple clay built vessels, to rusty recycled tin cans in emergencies, to exquisite silver oil chalices hanging on chains for the wealthy.

Olives, the Greeks believed were a gift from the goddess, Athena, who won a competition against Poseidon over which of them gave mankind the best gift. Poseidon gave water, the myth goes, but lost out as the sample he provided was a tiny bit salty to taste. Athena's olives, though, were perfection: so she was declared the winner.

Many of the tools used in the planting and harvesting of olives were on display in the museum. We have seen variations on these in other trips to Italy, particularly in Bari, where we saw old men and women climbing the trees using small hand rakes to harvest the thin branches free of olives. We have also seen families lay rough nets below the tree, then bang the trunk with a long metal pole and shake the leaves until the olives fall free onto the net.

When it comes to collection, many folk used small woven baskets, that were tied at the waist or hung from their person as they climbed ladders to harvest.

Olives are sometimes left--on the advice of Pliny--to rest on the ground covered with leaves, or on the floor of a covered room, for a full three days before they are salted.

In days long past, olives were often moved in sacks on animal backs; or transported by tregge: a sledge-like cart with log runners instead of wheels, rounded in front for ease of movement.

The simple process to extract the oil is the same today as it ever was-- albeit the technology uses different materials--and involves crushing the olive to release the seed, and the oil. Pressing until the oil flows, then separating the water from the oil by centrifuge, leaving the prized product in its pure form.

Wealthy Romans would have spaces set aside in their villas, pars agricola, for the storage of provisions from their land: their grapes, their olives, their grains.

If they sent these off in their galleys for trade they would be stored in pottery amphorae, their pointed ends solidly set in sand in the hold of the vessel, for stability.

Their boats would also have carried cultivars of grape and vines, thus spreading the growth of olives and grapes in the region.

We had time only for a quick wine talk and taste at the wine museum before, it too, closed for hours. But, the lady who attended us was a delight. She had taught herself to be functional with clients in about six different languages by working in the wine museum for over 40 years. Retired now, but still working for the family because she loves her job, she is a boon for tourists like us. So informative about the grapes growing on the hills outside Torgiano, and now also in Montefalco: the reserve reds and the prestigious white grapes growing higher on the hills, the ones producing young crisp wines lower.

So, missing our coffee and now overdue for lunch we chose to eat, for a second time, at a fast food place a couple of villages east of the museums. This place has a winning formula for success in Italy, styled after an American roadhouse, but offering a variety of fare that travellers just love at lunch time. Delicious hot pasta. Pulse dishes. Hot triangles of toasted bread filled with fresh fillings of your choice. And fast charred grilled meats with a serving of charred rings of hot charred potato for all of €5. Crazy prices. The doors are constantly swinging with newcomers and there are queues for seats on a daily basis.

You sit at recycled tables originally built to hold electrical cables, in a large room, with a buzzing crowd already seated. You are given a paper table mat that has the menu printed on it. The top right hand corner is your order section: you tear this off and hand it in to the cashier as you carry your drink order back to your table: while you wait for the char maestros around the roaring fires to prepare your grill.

Delicious. With so much energy, warmth, and atmosphere. Eating is such a joy to Italians. And nary a mobile phone in sight at the tables. Such fun then.