lost and found
I came into this experience somewhere between lost and found: knowing I wanted to change direction and pursue something I love, but not sure what that would look like or where it would lead me. A few weeks in, I’m still in that limbo — but I’m fully enjoying the process of turning lost into found.
Week three. All the pastries and so many desserts. More kitchen injuries and more responsibilities. A yummy birthday dinner for our “mamma” Patsy. Devouring homemade sweets in the middle of a piazza. A wonderful field trip to the Tuscan countryside. A purse lost. A purse found (…?). More sweating in Italian kitchens and streets and apartments. More time spent with this new temporary family. More carbs and cocktails and culture soaked up in every possible form.
the trattoria
I spent another week working at Cibrèo Trattoria, each day getting a little more comfortable in the kitchen and each shift gaining a little more trust and responsibility from the staff. My name was still “honey”, but “honey” became a more familiar face. The face of someone who was a little less lost, and who was slowly finding her footing on this new ground.
By my fourth day in the kitchen I was accomplishing my tasks more quickly and with more confidence — sure, cutting up several loaves of crusty bread was still the biggest hurdle of my day, but I figured out how to slice those bad boys more efficiently and with slightly less exertion. By the fifth day I was helping the chef make fish soup at the stove, sorting out fish parts and straining broth and getting splattered by the insanely huge immersion blender. By the sixth, I was plating pretty stacks of parmigiana di melanzane for service.
After just two weeks in the same kitchen I was able to grasp how things operated there, to understand the hierarchies and the politics and the rules, to better anticipate what was needed from me, and to get a glimpse of what life is like for these people who devote so much of their time and energy to restaurant work.
the training
Class this week was all about the sweets. We learned how to make several kinds of pastry dough, creams, custards, fillings, and traditional desserts. Frolla and pasta sfoglia, aka puff pastry. Pasta frolla classica and crema pasticciera for torta de la nonna, and the chocolate versions of each for torta del nonno. Frolla all’olio and crema chantilly for fruit tarts. Ricotta cream and tiramisu and panna cotta, oh my!
I learned just how hard it is to make butter-laden pastry dough on a hot Italian summer day, and how easy it is to overcook custard. I learned the proper pattern for folding puff pastry and the technique for piping lady fingers and how the Tuscans do tiramisu. I learned what it feels like to eat your weight in butter and heavy cream. (Spoiler alert: it doesn’t feel awesome).
The highlight of this week was our field trip to the Chianti region to visit two of Cibrèo’s local suppliers: a cheese farm and a winery.
We visited Fattoria Corzano e Paterno first, which was absolutely lovely. They make their own cheese, wine, and olive oil, with beautiful grounds and 300 sheep who call it home. We were given private tours of the farm’s operations, first seeing how their Chianti and their Pecorino and their signature “Buccia di Rospo” (aka “toad skin”) cheese gets made, aged, and packaged — and then getting to taste it all ourselves.
Our second half of the field trip was a visit to Villa Calcinaia, where we took a very informative, very long, very, very, very hot outdoor tour through the villa and grounds under the blazing Tuscan sun on perhaps the hottest day we’ve had here yet. We learned about every inch of the winery’s Chianti Classico winemaking process as we dripped sweat from every inch of our overheating bodies. Somehow, we survived. Our reward: a cold, dark cellar where a delightful wine tasting awaited us.
the tragedy
It was an absolutely lovely day, until it wasn’t. I got off the van that had been driving us around all day and realized about five minutes later that my small purse — you know, the one where I keep stuff like my money, credit cards, ID, and apartment keys — was gone. It had to be in that van we rented. By the time we got in contact with the driver, the car was getting cleaned, and hours later I was told nothing was found. Cash, credit card, debit card, keys, even the antibiotics I’d been taking for the cough that wouldn’t quit…all lost.
Thank God for David, my new Brazilian friend, who pulled through for me big time. He bought me drinks while we waited on answers about my purse’s whereabouts. He offered me a room at his apartment if I couldn’t track down my keys by the end of the night. He took a taxi with me (and again, paid for it) to pick up a spare set of keys from my airbnb hosts. I was homeless, penniless, and helpless, but — continuing with this theme of small mercies — at least I wasn’t friendless.
My fault? 100%. I left my purse in the back seat, that’s on me. But I knew it had to be in that van, and I knew I wasn’t crazy. The next day I was vindicated when the driver called Karin and told her that the purse was found wedged in the seat, missed by the cleaning crew. Per usual, God was looking out for me. All that was left to do was retrieve the purse from him, and see if all of its contents were still there.
A couple of teases ensued in the days following; the driver said he’d be in the area more than once but by the end of the week, still no driver and still no purse. Another limbo between lost and found, and all there was to do was wait. Lucky for me, I was in as good a place as any to do some waiting.
the treats
And now, for the winning eats of the week…
DARIO CECCHINI
On our day in the countryside, we stopped in Greve in Chianti for a burger from the most famous butcher + restaurant in the area. We went to the cutest food truck I’ve ever seen, in the most beautiful location I’ve ever seen a food truck set up camp, and enjoyed one of the most sizable burgers I’ve ever eaten — a giant hunk of quality Tuscan-bred beef with pesto cream and caramelized red onions on thick, crusty bread. It was the burger I didn’t know I’d been craving.
C.BIO
C.Bio is an adorable little market + deli that’s part of the Cibrèo ecosystem. They sell signature items from the restaurants like jarred sauces, pickled vegetables, and their insanely delicious chicken pâté, and they also have a case in the back filled with delightful lunch-type foods — many of them the same recipes from the restaurant, trattoria, or caffè. I went for lunch one day and got three of my favorites: an eggplant dish, pappa al pomodoro, and one chicken ricotta meatball. The deli gives you your goods in a cute picnic basket to be enjoyed on the rooftop garden. With my newfound love for pappa al pomodoro and that impossibly light, fluffy ricotta meatball, it made for the perfect lunch.
THE ART’S INN
This art-gallery-slash-cocktail-bar had been recommended by several people, so I’d been wanting to tick it off my long list of places to try. David and I went to check it out and became instantly obsessed…little did the bartender Silvio know that we’d be back every few days, waiting outside the door when he opened at 6:30pm for one of his expertly made cocktails. On our first visit he suggested the Bittersweet Symphony cocktail, and I never looked back: this drink is up there in my top three cocktails of all time. Chamomile-infused Irish whiskey, a lemon liqueur, amaro, chamomile flowers, dehydrated orange. Not necessarily something I would have ordered, but it turned out to be the most balanced, subtle blend of flavors and I couldn’t get over how good it was. Silvio set the orange on fire at the table, giving the drink just a hint of smoky citrus every time I took a sip. Bittersweet Symphony is right: I like the song, and I like the cocktail even better.
There were some losses this week — you can’t win ‘em all. But I’d rather be a little lost in Italy than a little found somewhere else, and I’m more than happy to wait it out here during this limbo in between.
