Stone upon stone: an Italian sojourn: Deep in the Chianti hills

We had a foodie day today, the loveliest kind, actually. It started late yesterday when we got home, as when we arrived back at the Agriturismo a relative of the owners and a helper (I love that in Italy there is always a helper who offers his time free to do so much of the seasonal work, year after year) continued with some kitchen gardening. Today the two planted a big bed of onions, ('because they taste better than store bought') in a gravelly, grainy, garden that looked far too dry and soilless to grow anything, then gave it only the lightest watering, waiting, instead, for rain, then left it to nature, claiming the onions would be glorious. This morning the plants were standing perfectly tall and straight: happy; so they both knew exactly what they were doing.

They also pruned and trimmed grape vines down the terraces, ready to make more wine -- as if they needed it. The Cantina downstairs is filled with bottles from years back, that the family still has to catch up on.

Now they are selling them through the Agriturismo as well to speed it up, but it doesn't seem to make much of a dent in the supply. This is not the Chianti Classico label, as they would need to pay to be part of the cooperative to call it that, but it is 100% Sangiovese grape so it is as good, if not better, than any registered label. Grown right in the heart of Chianti growing country with the sun shining on it for most of the year. What could be more perfect.

Maurizio first cut some pussy willow shoots off an ancient nearby bush, trimming it bare, in order to sprout again next year for the same purpose. He bound these stalks of furry catkins with a switch of the willow then set about trimming and training the new lead grape vine shoots along the wire for fresh growth this year. It all looked so effortless and natural.

And the fava beans for nitrogen replenishment growing between these grape vines are twice as high as most: despite the crumbly dry rock-strewn texture of the soil beneath. The grape vines here are thriving.

After another delicious Agriturismo breakfast the next day, we headed off eastwards into the Chianti hills that we can see from all our windows and terraces, where there are yet more grapes and more olives with church spires at the top of most of the slopes.

We called in at a little place called Sambucca for coffee, then walked the tiny town, right down to the Roman bridge that is still standing after being repaired at the end of the war, following bomb damage. This delightful place looks as if it came straight out of an episode of 'Allo 'Allo, so trapped in time is it. We could all imagine it as the heart of the Resistance during the war, and I am sure it could easily feature as a set for movies of that ilk.

Our next stop was Greve in Chianti where we were blown away by a delightful town centre that appears as though it was built all in arches on both sides of the main street to hold a different market stall under each arch at every opportunity. Perfect for that.

And, as it eventuates, that is nearly what has happened over the years. There is so much shopping here, and wonderful options, as well. Ceramics. Home made linens. Leathers. The major stall, though, is a salumi maker whose shop stretches under so many arches as it has become so popular and has grown over so many years, and has almost as many shop assistants as there are purchasers, today. They have great wood chopping block tables out on the sidewalk worn down with use over the many generations of salumi making.

Amazing place, dripping with every type of salumi one could wish for. I bought a fennel flavoured salami that I will eke out in the thinnest slices and serve with amaretti biscuits: a combination I only discovered this morning in a food factory that we called at enroute just before stopping at Greve in Chianti. Sweet and sour together on the tongue: simply delicious.

Not filled yet from samples, we then went for a long slow lunch in an Enoteca recommended by our Agriturismo girls: the best Bistecca all Fiorentina, they recommended. And it was. Nearly 2" thick and in a 1.3 kg piece, charred on the outside, rare and beautifully set in the centre, it seriously was a taste of heaven. Cooked by a Japanese chef in a little wine-bar-cum-trattoria in the middle of the Chianti hills. We had to give him a hug it was such a wonderful lunch.

We spent the afternoon photographing the hills and wound our way home in time to cook dinner, check the onions, the grape vines, the cellar, the dog and the roaming chickens before they head to their roost for the night, and we headed to ours.

Another lovely day in Tuscany.