An uncommon passion

Silvano has a passion for food. This may seem like a strange thing to say in a nation of gastronomes, but his is an uncommon passion - medieval food. He likes to make it, serve it to people, and tell them about it. In a region with the best-preserved medieval architecture and heritage in Italy, he's the perfect - and rather rare - culinary complement to its historians and cultural doyens (who themselves are plentiful and yet somewhat "latent".)

He's taken his penchant a step further too by housing his restaurant in a renovated castle, tucked away in a small borgo (hamlet) of steep cobbled alleys that contort themselves around and through the structure, creating new discoveries around each twisted corner. If you didn't know where the restaurant was, it would be quite a challenge to find it. But then that's the thing about Il Picciolo di Rame - you don't stumble upon it, it's a deliberate act, you go there because that's where you're going.

Twelve courses based on ancient recipes are introduced with the meticulous detail of the historian and the deep respect of a man of the country, starting off with the most simple of concepts - bruschetta drizzled with olive oil. That's it, no other topping. But this is not just your ordinary olive oil (which I'm sure marchigiani would assert does not exist here) - it's a carefully selected type of olive grown in a very specific area. Three, four, eight-hundred year old recipes follow - a medieval matrimonial dish, wild fennel, a single giant hand-made raviolo, a small type of lentil from the high-altitude Piano Grande with 15 different herbs, goat with wild herbs ...

Silvano said we were finished eating ... and then promptly brought out dessert. You walk out sated, intrigued, thankful, but not overfull, thanks to the modest portions.

And as with any Italian encounter, you just never know what might happen. First, I discovered that his grandfather was born in a house I can see from my own. Then he brought out a wine from a little-known vinicola some distance away (but still in Le Marche), whose owner - a count - I'd interviewed a few months ago, and which is probably the only regional winery to make kosher wine (and export it to New York). (Silvano didn't know this.) The goat he served spawned discussions of goat's milk, a hard-to-find item much sought-after by my wife, and so I walked out with a bottle of fresh goat's milk, with a promise of more if we would just stop by his house when we needed it ...

As with most special eating experiences, it's not just about the food - it's about the whole process: the love, the care, the interest ... and the prospect of making a new friend. It's a symbol of Italy. In Le Marche, you're never far from such experiences - you just need to know where to go ...

Spring in the Sibillini

May is perhaps the best month up in the Sibillini mountains - brisk breezes team up with the spring warmth to require a well-packed backpack, with sweaters and sunhats often in use within half an hour of each other. Snow still clings to the peaks and makes getting to the upper reaches impossible on some roads. The newness of the season also means that only the dedicated - like us - are up there, so on most occasions you have the place to yourself.

And then there are the wildflowers. It's one of the primary calls of going up there (along with the best air in Italy and the feeling of freedom). I can't tell you what they're called, and I can't remember which ones bloom when, I just know I'm an ardent follower. It's a changing scene too - in a matter of weeks the characters and colours of the wildflower world will be changing, and again a couple of weeks after that. These constant shifts of the floral display are always a matter of wonder and admiration, and I'll never tire of it.

This past weekend we went up to our favourite spot, walked up to "our" ridge that looks east, north, and west for miles, with the Sibillini ridges stretching in blue waves to the south. We followed our usual habit of ambling up and slumbering silently in the sun, cool breeze requiring a pullover, and then drifting aimlessly over the earthy domes with ever-changing views over Le Marche and into Umbria and Lazio. It's magificent.

This time I spotted a grove of evergreens a little way down the ridge and so we stopped on our way down. Another world - a pine forest, not a dominant feature around here. Lush carpet of cool grass, an invititation into a verdant hideaway, and yet another perspective in a landscape of multiple personalities.

That's the thing about these mountains - there's always something new to explore, always a little corner that we haven't discovered before. It'll never get old.

Below are some pictures from the day. I should perhaps know better than to post pictures of flowers, but how can I wax so lyrical without giving an idea of what I'm talking about. (Click on the picture to launch a full-size version.)

Sibyl, Pontius, and Le Marche's fabled splendour

"Perhaps the same harshness of these mountains, scoured by the whistling wind, devoured by precipitous torrents, and drilled by peculiar karst phenomena, has contributed not a little to furthering a series of witch legends and making this place celebrated in the 14th and 15th centuries throughout all Europe for magical fairytales and necromantic initiations."

Giuseppe Santarelli knew these mountains well, these central Apennines that bear a prophetess' name. The Sibillini range on Le Marche's western edge may be crowned by Monte Vettore, its highest point at 2,476m/8,123ft, but it's Monte Sibilla that's the keeper of its secrets. Up here on the airy ridges you're never far from the legends that pervade this area, none more so than Sibilla's cave, an enchanted grotto of paradise and promiscuity, serpents and servitude.

Julius with Monte Sibilla hidden by his cap, and Monte Vettore in the distance on the right

Some would have it that the Apennine Sibyl (Sibilla) is she of Cuma from Virgil's Aeneid, transmigrating here from the Phlegraean fields near Naples to escape the retributions of a burgeoning and disapproving Christianity. But local legend claims otherwise - she is born of the Apennines, a beguiling blend of soothsayer and enchantress, luring knights and adventurers into her lair until the end of time.

We spend a lot of time up there, but we've never found the cave, although Julius claims otherwise (see picture). While being somewhat "atmospheric" and "suggestive", his grotto somehow didn't bear the marks of legend - of devil's bridges and razor's edges that widen with each successive step, sparkling sculpted dragons whose eyes illuminate all around, crashing metal doors that threaten to crush intruders, or "gilded alcoves and iridescent furniture."

Julius' Grotta della Sibilla

Antoine de la Salle tells of a German adventurer - some say it was Wagner's Tannhauser - who braved the doors, the dragons, and the violent winds to find a paradise of "gay and carefree youth" fluent in all the languages of the world, where stunning maidens treated them to a life of inexhaustible lust and pleasure, where "old age was banned and pain did not have the right of citizenship." But the signs of the devil were ever evident as every Friday at midnight their consorts transformed into the most terrifying serpents, staying that way until midnight Saturday, when they retransformed themselves into the creatures of delight that kept the knight there without coercion.

When he finally pulled himself away on the 330th day - after which he would not have been able to leave - his conscience bade him express his remorse to the pope and beg for pardon. When the pope refused, the devastated knight returned to the cave, never to be seen again.

While we haven't been able to find the cave, legendary signs abound. Like the shattered shards of shale around Monte Vettore, for example, a product of the goatlike feet of the cave's fate (fairies) as they scrambled back to the grotto. Periodically the fate would descend from their haven to teach the village girls spinning and weaving, and dance the saltarello with the young men. If they didn't make it back to the cave before sunrise, they transformed into mere mortals. And if you were a fata, who (gasp) would want that?

Monte Vettore's "shattered shards of shale", Monte Sibilla ridge in the background

The other main mythical site in the Sibillini, Lago di Pilato (Pilate Lake), is somewhat easier to find than the cave - it nestles in a mountain bowl just below Monte Vettore, and is a popular summer hiking destination. It's here that Pontius Pilate is reputed to be buried, deep in the frigid waters of the twin lakes "in the form of two lenses, like the glasses of a rattlesnake." While many other places in Europe claim to be his final resting place, locals claim that before being executed, Pilate asked Emperor Tiberius for his corpse to be put into a cart drawn by buffaloes, "and left to the power of fate." Somehow fate guided the buffaloes huffing and puffing up to the Sibillini. Another account claims that the waters of the lake turned blood red at the precise moment of Jesus' crucifiction, and that on the surrounding slopes leaves suddenly sprouted resembling two joined hands, each pierced with a nail. (The fact that a rare freshwater shrimp turns the lake's waters red at spawning time is neither here nor there.)

Lago di Pilato

(Copyright GiulioC@Flickr.com)

The lake was also a gathering place for necromancers - nearby Norcia in Umbria was a known centre of witchcraft. Here they would summons their demons, asking for favour in executing evil deeds, in exchange for thier souls. Intruders on such rites were summarily dispatched in rather unappealing ways. But of course that's all just legend ...

... and one doesn't need the legends to enjoy this most spectacular of Le Marche's natural wonders. However, it certainly adds a little colour, and gives its already mystical air yet another dimension. After all, as Giuseppe Santarelli suggests with a classical Italian lyricism: "... inside the cocoon of the ancient legend is the diligent silkworm of eternal knwoledge and the light butterfly of immortal poetry."

Rural Mural

One of my other jobs out here in Italy's hidden secret involves writing a monthly column on Le Marche's many excellent wineries (or, more specifically, Macerata province's). Last week this took me to Matelica, one and only source of its green gold pride, Verdicchio di Matelica. But that's not the subject of this posting.

Every time I go to a town I always stop in at the tourist office to see what's going on, what's new, and to get a local's impressions on any- and everything (normally it's a different person from the last time I was there). This time I stumbled upon a brochure of a nearby town that initiated a project to paint murals on the walls of several houses. After wading through the customary morass of bureaucracy and getting the required permits, art students from all over Italy and beyond came to decorate the walls of this village. This was several years ago, but I reckoned they were still there (the murals, not the artists), and so I took a drive out there.

While some of the murals have been painted over by now, those that remain are a dlightful surprise, adding a colourful and distinctly alternative dimension to this picturesque, traditional village. Take a look. (Double-click on the picture and it will open full-size.)

Serendipitous Le Marche

It was just a single line in an obscure guide, innocuously recommending a visit to the piano nobile of the municipal building "if you have time." I'm glad I had time, although I questioned my use of it when the tourist lady said she'd need to go and get the keys from another office to get in, thinking as I was of the likely fruitless search for the right person, the rummaging around for the keys, the numerous tries in the lock from the bunch resembling a genius's puzzle, ... When the friend with whom she was lost in conversation when I made my request accompanied us, I raised the other eyebrow a little quizzically too.

But all misgivings evaporated when we found the right person immediately, located the appropriate key with equal speed, and was thrust into the most sumptuous of municipal hearing rooms I have ever been in. While the plush green upholstery was impressive, it was the walls and the ceilings that prompted my jaw to drop and my mouth to utter a monosyllabic grunt of awe - ornate, colourful frescoes invited me in, offering accounts of the town's history and depictions of Italy's four surrounding seas. The photos below don't begin to capture its all-round appeal.

I was thankful too for the presence of the friend, whose knowledge of the frescoes and the pictures in the next room was somewhat superior to the tourist lady's. The adjoining rooms were quite different, but in their own way just as engaging, with baroque furniture lounging idly in the corners, and a half-wall of vignettes giving life to Dante's Divine Comedy courtesy one Filippo Bigioli, an early nineteenth-century artist I hadn't heard of before. (Unfortunately the room was too dark to take pictures of his vignettes.)

And this after a highly rewarding visit to the town's small Pinacoteca Civica with its Crivelli brother masterpieces and other gems dating back to the beginning of the thirteenth century. I'm not an art buff, but the craftwork of the works on display by the Crivellis and other artists whose names were new to me can't but be admired. Outside, the elliptical main piazza is an attraction of its own, with its arched arcades and beckoning coffee shops. Tucked away in central Le Marche, this town deserves a visit for anyone with the time, and if you don't have it, make it.

Post a comment if you know the place I'm talking about.

(If you click on the picture, it will launch a full-size view of it.)

Le Marche wines - suprising variety, unquestionable quality

In 2008 Italy overtook France for the first time since 1998 as the world's biggest wine producer, turning out 4.7 billion litres of the stuff. Now it's a little difficult to get one's head around such a number, so looking at it in terms of consumption is helpful.

Italy also happens to be the world's biggest consumer of wine (in per capita terms), perhaps not surprising given their proclivity to pair most (non-breakfast) food with a glass or so of fermented grape juice. In 2007 they bought 299 million cases or some 2.7 billion litres, around 57% of what they produced. Converted into everyday terms, that means each Italian older than 15 (including the teetotallers) drinks a bottle of wine roughly every five days.

Somehow that number seems low, but I think there's a good reason for that. There's a vast production of wine that never makes it into commercially sold bottles, let alone into the stores that peddle them - the ubiquitous home brew, product of so many vines growing on the side of the house, next to the road, down near the culvert, and a hundred other places that simply can't be left to bare earth. Our neighbours, for instance, make 400 litres a year, and drink it all themselves. Notwithstanding the fact that they're one of the larger farms around here, it's still of modest size when one thinks in terms of cooperatives and agricultural empires, so think how many litres that translates into nation-wide when one takes into account all the grape-growing neighbours of Italy.

But all that's really beside the point. It's Le Marche's wines that we're here to talk about. And what a conversation it is - the region's wine cellar is a treasure-chest of discovery, not least because their labels, blends and varietals are relatively unknown. Also, annual production is small by the standards of other regions - 181.5 million litres, or around 7% of the national production comes out of Marche.

But that doesn't mean it's inferior - far from it, in fact. For example, on the Associazione Italiana Sommelier (AIS - Italian Association of Wine Sommeliers) list of 5-star wines for 2009 (those that scored 91-100 points), Le Marche has 21 - only the Piedmont, Tuscany, and Friuli-Venezia Giulia have more. Much has changed in the wine industry here in the past 10 years or so - as it has in other parts of Italy - with cultivation and fermentation techniques undergoing research, improvement and modernization, old varietals being resurrected, international ones being introduced (or re-introduced in some cases), and overall quality rising steadily compared with 20 and 30 years ago.

The fact that Marche's wines are not as well known as those of other regions makes a visit here one of discovery and adventure for the taste buds. Sure wine-drinkers around the world may already know about Verdicchio dei Castelli di Jesi - perhaps as much for its striking green amphora bottle as for its verdant freshness - but there are many others worthy of attention, despite their probable anonymity outside Italy (and even Le Marche): Bianchello, Falerio, Esino, Maceratesi, Pesaresi, Pecorino ... and that's just the whites (which make up 62% of the region's production). Amongst the reds, there's also plenty to choose from, with Rosso Piceno leading the way in terms of production, and Rosso Conero and Lacrima di Morro d'Alba standing out in terms of depth and variety. International varieties such as cabernet sauvignon, merlot, pinot noir, chardonnay, and sauvignon blanc are also now beginning to make a strong statement in the region's offerings, while area specialties such as Serrapetrona's Vernaccia and Loro Piceno's vino cotto continue to add another long-standing dimension to an already appealing array of wine products.

Some say Le Marche's selection of wines is reason enough to visit this wonderful part of the world, and I'd be hard-pressed to disagree (even though it has a lot more to offer). So when you pack your bags for a trip to Italy's best-kept secret, be sure to pack your palates - they'll be very glad you brought them along.

(There'll be more in future blog posts on specific wines and growing areas, so check back for periodic updates.)

Le Marche - a few fast facts

Le Marche covers an area of 9,693 sq. km. (3,742 sq. miles), making it 15th biggest of Italy's 20 regions. Its borders are the Adriatic Ocean to the east, Emilia-Romagna and the independent republic of San Marino to the north, Tuscany, Umbria, and Lazio to the west, and Abruzzo to the south.

With a population of around 1.5 million, the largest city and capital is Ancona with just a smidgen over 100,000 inhabitants residents. The coast is more populous than inland, with Pesaro (around 92,000) and Fano (about 58,000) on the north coast ranking second and third in the population stakes. (Italy's total population is around 58 million.)

The region is divided into five provinces - Pesaro-Urbino in the north, Ancona in the middle, Macerata just south of that, Fermo wedging in below it and the southernmost province of Asocli Piceno. The capital of each province is the city it's named after.

The central Apennine mountains form the backbone of its natural western border, peaking at the summit of Monte Vettore (2,476m/8,123ft) in the Sibillini range. Between the Apennines and the Adriatic is a magical prospect of rolling hills, craggy outcrops, hilltop towns, and patchwork fields. Over 100,000 hectares are protected, the majority of which are in the two national parks - Monti Sibillini, and Gran Sasso & Monti della Laga, which straddles the Abruzzo border. In addition, there are four regional parks, three natural reserves, 15 state forests, and over 100 floricultural areas.

Le Marche's towns are some of the best-preserved medieval specimens in the whole of Italy, and among its piazzas are some of the country's most beautiful. Art, history, and architecture abound. According to the region's tourist office: 500 piazzas, more than 1,000 significant monuments, a hundred "cities of art", thousands of churches (including 200 Romanesque), 34 archaeological sites, 72 historic theatres, and the highest density of museums and art galleries in Italy (342 spread over 246 municipalities).

Then there's the shopping, the food, and the wine, but that'll have to wait for another time ...