I Tatti Fettunta

There is nothing more pleasing on a brisk winters morning than a good frost. It is bitterly cold first thing, however, you will always know the day will be fantastic! Blue sky, sun shining and a dry cold instead of the wet, misty fog we have have the past few days.

Last Thursday was a classic winters morning with a grass snapping frost which meant it was going to be a perfect day for I Tatti’s olive oil harvest celebration- Fettunta (which is a colloquial Tuscan word for bruschetta). The farmers have finally picked all the olive trees (and there are a lot of them), pressed the oil and we were all invited up to the farm house to taste the new olive oil and enjoy the view.

The kitchen staff had made beans, chickpeas, pappa pomodoro and ribollita for the festivities and we all gathered round the tables and helped ourselves to the delights, melding the flavours with the new oil.

I almost got a great shot and then this pink head came out of know where! The line behind me wasn’t as fascinated with all the photography so I didn’t push my luck.

Once we had our plates full of food it was then time to pop on over to the bread toasting section, grab a piece of sliced bread and toast in over the open coals- perfect for a cold day!

The trick was now rubbing your toast with raw garlic, adding a sprinkle of salt and drizzling over more olive oil all while holding your plate of beans and chickpeas. Never fear I wasn’t going to let a little thing like this break me, I just decided I’d sip the farms vino rosso after I ate. Worked like a charm!

The food and olive oil were deliciously morish with a lovely after flavour of pepper from the oil, a perfect combination for a day at the farm. It is always lovely to catch up with everyone in the great outdoors and enjoy this beautiful view because I had a terrible realisation the other day….we are almost half way through our year…….I can’t even think about that just yet!

 

Winter is coming……

 

 

 

 

 

 

Blackberry foraging

Most afternoons I am hankering to get out of the house, especially on the weekends.  Nic understands this as I have never been one to sit around on the couch relaxing; I seem to have an inability to rest, relax and chill out on a regular basis which can be good and bad depending on who you’re talking too. The boys think it is outrageous that I suggest afternoon strolls in the countryside, what a horrible mother I am!

Every time I go for a run I pass bushes and bushes of blackberries, and the boys are quite fascinated with all the wild berries growing along the side of the road. Nic tells them not to pick them off the bushes and just eat them (they could be sprayed or a dog could of sprayed wee on them- this I would actually like to see as the dog would have to be in a pretty precarious position to even attempt getting close to the blackberries that are at least a meter off the ground…..but hey, thats just me!)

I, on the other hand say pick away, I have always thought that if any fruit is hanging over on public ground then it is free to all who walk past. Our Greek neighbour when I was growing up in the NT did not agree with this train of thought and was always shouting at us kids for picking his guava when plump and bursting with ripeness (I guess that was one of the downfalls of living next to a park where all the local kids used to play). Personally I think he loved us picking them just so he could have something to carry on about….it still makes me smile.

There was a lovely breeze yesterday afternoon and we’d played at least 10 games of Uno so I suggested we go foraging for blackberries to stretch our legs and get outside for a while. NO was the first reaction from the boys, followed closely by slumping the shoulders forward, dropping the bottom lip and commencing to carry on a treat about leaving the house. Blah,blah,blah. I knew they would actually enjoy it once we started picking so I told them to put a cork in it, get their shoes on and get out the door! I don’t think Alex really minds getting out and about, but when his brother puts on such a performance I think he feels a little compelled to join in!

With Max storming ahead we started looking at potential pickings. We haven’t had much rain and the sun has been intense so a lot of the blackberries were dried out and shrivelled, which is sad. We walked on a little more to the spot I had in mind and we were in luck. Max even started to pick a few and I’d even go as far as seeing a smile creep onto his face when he came across a good branch.

Alex on the other hand was super-excited and wanted to pick every one he saw, I like the enthusiasm; however, after explaining the difference in taste between the red ones and black ones he soon started looking for the big fat black ones. I get a little excited when I start picking and can’t stand it when I see a bunch of juicy blackberries just a few inches out of reach. I’ll get on the tips of my toes to go that extra mile and usually ending up with nothing but thorns in my legs and hands.

   I was hoping for 6 cups of blackberries as I could make a blackberry pie, just like the one I was reading about in my Saveur magazine, however, we only ended up with a cup and a half. Not to worry, I got the boys out of the house, managed to get Max to spend some family time with us and lose the scowl. Plus we had yummy, fresh blackberries to eat with our gelato — what’s there to hate about that?