photography

Sunday lunch in Ambruzzo

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It’s Sunday. We arrived at our beautiful, traditional farmhouse yesterday, meeting up with our pals C&D. This is situated along a narrow track through mixed arable farmland with glorious views across to a chequerboard landscape of clean cut, but compact fields of harvested wheat, bubbles of olive groves, lines of vines, model railway buildings & even a couple of fishing lakes with the Adriatic beckoning in the far distance.

We are delighted to hear that just 10 minutes walk down our track is Starinieri Agriturismo, a special farm offering rooms, and meals at a weekend…and yes, they can fit us in tomorrow for lunch.Under clear blue skies, we wander the track, absorbing the smells of the Ambruzzo countryside, taking in the mosaic of colour, texture & shape around us & sharing the joys of life & friendship, we arrive at the farm.

On the lawn rows of tables are laid out beneath & between billowing white cotton sheets that gently whisper to each other in the lightest of breezes. The great thing about this place is that though there is limited choice, what there is, is home reared & home grown, high quality ingredients & local produce, all from the farm & all very tasty. We shared three starters of lentil salad, cheese & charcuterie & delicious cheese balls in tomato sauce; Primo was either spaghetti with mini meatballs or asparagus & bacon ravioli; Secundo: lamb chops & sausages with potato; cheesecake or tiramisu.

It also helped that the other tables were taken by locals, a child’s birthday party & a large communion party, both of the latter setting the atmosphere & creating an ambiance of family & joy that we were quickly involved in.

And the very best was the farm’s wine – excellent Montepulciano Ambruzzo, sold at 4€ a jug which holds one litre. Such a bargain. We consumed 3 such jugs. After 5 hours at the table – excellent food, excellent service, excellent company, excellent ambiance, we shuffled our way home, feeling very happy & very content and fit for little else for the rest of the evening.

The route that keeps giving

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From Rome in the west, the autostrade rises into the Appenine Mountains. These stretch all the way down the Italian peninsula, the spine on which the nation depends. It means that most regions, & Ambruzzo is no exception, stamp their identity on coast, the Adriatic in this case, & crag alike. The commerce & industry of the suburbs soon relinquishes its grip on the land & the road gently rises through heavily wooded ridges of deciduous oak & ash & chestnut & walnut & countless other species I am unable to name. Ancient hilltop villages & stretched valley settlements, dusty & stoned, with a modernist halo of buildings around a historic core, appear at regular intervals, providing intrinsic interest to an already inspiring landscape.

The road continues to rise & travel through several dark, troll-favoured tunnels, the longest being 4 km in length. Each time we emerge & new scene greets us until we are truly in mountain land with truncated, helmet shaped peaks competing for height & reputation, bare of any real vegetation with only rough screed slopes trying to keep alive some scruffy bits of grass & an occasional stunted, spindly tree. It is like driving through a congregation of monks, moving through circular tonsures onto bald pates & soft rises.

Then it is out into the true Grand Sasso d’Italia revealing the true glory of Italy’s mountain core. Traversing lumpy peaks & trascending valleys on intestinal roads lined with abundant yellow gorse, the sight of ancient villages peering from balloons of foliage or tucked into the shelter of a valley side, becomes common place. The sat nav takes us down a slalom of a country lane. As the heavy, silver lined sky combines with the grey lumps of mountains, the yellow-brick road leads down through time, to the broad valley bottom.

Time stands still – it could be Roman times through rich woodland, the occasional small patch of tilled earth hosting a small olive grove or a handful of almond trees. No vehicles, no buildings. Just interacting with the scene & the place.Eventually the trip is complete. We descend from the heights of the Appennine passes to the coastal strip of the Adriatic.

Back to reality – out of town shopping centres, scruffy developments, uninspiring landscapes. But what a glorious journey between the two seas.

Blazing the coastal trail to Bosa

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My biggest surprise in driving the coast road south to Bosa is just how green & flowered the island is.

A patchwork of hay grass, some lying flat awaiting raking, mixes it up with meadow flowers of white & sunshine yellow. Lines of mixed deciduous woodland trees mushroom up alongside stretching olives & the occasional patch of pine. Lightbulbs of flowering gorse blaze in clumps, illuminating the course of a track, the side of the road or highlighting a crag of rocks or a tamed wild rockery. The colour palette is so varied, blues, lavenders, pastel purples, even lilacs thrown in there along with a brief flash of rather garish crimson poppy and all against a background of greens on one side & the turquoises of ocean & sky on the other.

The route attracts bikers & enthusiastic cyclists. For the most part the road is wide, the surface smooth – a joy to drive/ride. There is no room for cafes or bars or tourist tat here; Just the occasional view point where riders can share anecdotes & appreciate the serenity & beauty of the open road & the clear blue sky.

Don’t be fooled by the functional feel of the modern buildings you first meet as you enter Bosa; nor by the very ordinary street market, which by 1pm consists of a few lonely stalls, unloved & seemingly unwanted by their traders.This is one of the most beautiful villages in Italy.

The old town lies at the bridgehead over the Temo River. This meant that it prospered – agriculture was king on the plateaus inland with the water transporting grain & products to & from the coast, whilst the river also provided access to the sea, and fishing and trade created wealth from the surrounding ocean.

Ignoring the gate keepers at the small restaurant gurding the entrance, head into the maze of narrow cobbled streets/alleys of the old town.

Here, the multi-storeyed terraces stretch so high above that the shadows reign supreme and the sun has no hope of surviving down at street level.

The river is lined on both sides with buildings dating from past times – on the far side mostly warehouses stretch in an unbroken line from the bridge towards the sea. Opposite, warehouses share the riverside with merchant’s houses.

Domes, steeples flaking facades peer over each other and jostle for position alongside the bank providing a textured backdrop of colour, texture & position.Above the village, the 14th century Malaspina Castle stands guard, protecting the village from ancient enemies & invaders.