Just Desserts

            Just finished a slightly delicious serving of strawberry shortcake.  Tis the season and all that.  My version was made with angel food cake, lots of strawberries and some of that whipped cream in a can that never seems to go bad.  Yummy.

            I am rather partial to desserts.  In fact, often the most difficult decision I have to make in a restaurant is which dessert to order.

            I have a relentless sweet tooth, cultivated from an early age.  When I was growing up, nothing made me happier than coming home from school to discover that Mom had just taken some pies out of the oven and they were ready to slice!

            My favorite pies are lemon meringue and rhubarb.  Lemon meringue is relentlessly sweet, but that’s all right with me.  And imagine my delight in discovering that the English had already invented something called lemon curd!

OMG, it’s like lemon pie in a jar!

            But rhubarb is the queen of all pies, in my opinion.  And I mean straight rhubarb, not anything mixed with strawberries.  I have the world’s best rhubarb pie recipe, which calls for sugar, eggs, and flour. The thought of that pie makes me weak in the knees, I don’t mind telling you!

            Of course, I was always partial to cookies as well.  I am considered a tolerable cookie baker, and Tollhouse Cookies are my specialty.  Oatmeal raisin cookies are always welcomed, and a true shortbread cookie is heaven!

            In today’s culinary world, the art of dessert has surpassed mere pies and cookies.  One is likely to encounter inventions conjured up by magical pastry chefs that boggle the mind.  There might be a bit of cake enveloped in chocolate, swimming in a sauce of caramel and topped with homemade marshmallows.  Actually, that does sound rather tasty.

            And let’s remember that breakfast, if carefully planned, can almost be an entire meal of eating dessert.  Who doesn’t like waffles or pancakes or crepes to start their day, especially if they are swimming in an ocean of real maple syrup or wrapped around a generous dollop of Nutella?  Ah, the pleasures of sugar!

            There are also the puddings to remember.  My daughter and her husband are creators of a world-class crème brulee that has provided a sweet conclusion to many a holiday meal.  And tapioca and rice pudding are always favorites.

            My Great Auntie Grey used to say that all her meals had to end with something sweet, even if it was just a spoonful of jam.

            She was both a genius and my sweetest role model.

            

Team Six: The Pharaohs

Brian & Mike

Team Five: The Sightseers

Liz & Claire

Team Four: The Semiskilled Duo

Amy & Kathy

Team Three: The Franchise

Andrew & Peter

Team Two: The Couple

Chris & Beth

Amazing Race: Bio Bay Edition Team One: The Pros

Abby & Diane

Glowing, Glowing, Gone!

In spite of much wailing and gnashing of teeth, all six of the two-person kayaks finally made it into the open expanse of the BioBay, our bioluminescent destination on our trip to Puerto Rico last month.
All six teams, the Pros (Abby and Diane), the Couple (Chris and Beth), the Franchise (Andrew and Peter), the Semiskilled Duo (Amy and yours truly), the Sightseers (Liz and Claire), and the Pharaohs (Brian and Michael) were finally together again, floating peacefully under the clear but moonless Puerto Rican sky as our guide Maria told us about things that glowed in the bay, the fragility of the ecosystem that supported these life forms, and the history of these wonderful dinoflagelates that have awed and mystified many throughout the ages.
Since it had taken most of us longer than usual to reach the peaceful bay, Maria finished up her lecture quickly, encouraged us to sweep our hands back and forth through the ever glowing waters and then follow her back through the dark labyrinth of the mangrove lagoon.
We went in roughly the same order we had arrived: Maria with Abby and Diane right behind her, the Franchise looking after the Sightseers, the Semiskilled Duo being shepherded by the Couple, and the Pharaohs being pulled by the other guide as though they were floating on a royal barge down the Nile. I don’t think I would have minded the Pharaohs so much if they hadn’t been gloating over their effortless journey while so many of us were struggling to make some headway with our less than perfect kayaking.
Returning through the narrow, winding channel was made all the more fun by the fact that other groups were traveling through in their kayaks on their way to the Biobay. So, in addition to dodging mangrove roots, we also got to avoid the flailing paddles of other similarly inept kayakers trying to pass us. It was, in a word, AWESOME.
We thought that we had all made it through the worst of the lagoon gantlet when suddenly we heard loud yells and saw the formerly smug Pharaohs sputtering and splashing in the waist-deep water after being hit broadside by a kayak from another tour. The royal barge had capsized, and its haughty passengers were being baptized in the glowing waters of humiliation, much to the delight of all onlookers. They were rescued, losing only one sneaker and their dignity. Just thinking of it now brings a tear (of laughter) to one’s eye.
Eventually, we all made it back to the shore. The Pros were exultant in their prowess and in their enjoyment of the bay. The Pharaohs’ mood had unsurprisingly taken a nasty turn for the worse. The rest of us were mostly thankful that our “adventure” was coming to a conclusion.
Of course, while debarking from my kayak, I managed to lose my balance (apparently I have a rather large and low center of gravity) and I fell backwards into the warm water, giving my shorts a good soaking, but other than that, we all seemed physically unscathed by our extreme outdoor adventure. However, its psychological toll is another story…

The Assault of BioBay Begins

When last we left our intrepid crew, now known as the legendary BioBay Battalion, they had gotten almost hopelessly lost on the island of Puerto Rico on their way from Condado Beach to Fajardo. I neglected to mention that “Fajardo” came to be used as many parts of speech on our journey, as our frustration rose. Interestingly, “Fajardo” can be used as a verb, an adjective, and even as an invective, though it is necessary to pronounce the “j” as in “jar” when so doing.
Nonetheless, we had all arrived at the elusive location, and we were ready for our assault on BioBay, the bioluminescent bay for which Puerto Rico is justly famous.
We were quickly introduced to our tour guide Maria, whom most of us would not see again until the end of our journey. She asked how many of us had ever kayaked before, and sadly, most of us raised our hands. Seeing so many kayaking experts, Maria made her presentation on kayaking about thirty seconds long, which, as it turned out, was not so helpful.
Next we had to pair up, since we were going to be in two-person kayaks. The teams for our adventure shook out like this: Team One, the Pros, consisted of longtime camp counselor (my niece) Abby and her protégé, Diane (nephew Brian’s wife); Team Two was the Couple, nephew Chris and his wife Beth; Team Three was the Franchise, son-in-law Peter and nephew Andrew; Team Four, the Semiskilled Duo, consisted of my niece Amy and me; Team Five, the Sightseers, was my daughter Liz and niece Claire; and the final team was the Pharaohs, consisting of my son Michael and nephew Brian.
In our naiveté, we thought that going to see the BioBay would be a nice, calm paddle through the darkening waters to a calm inlet where the dinoflagelates swim. It sounded so sweet, so calm, so non-threatening. Well, we couldn’t have been more wrong.
Although the waters we were paddling through were allegedly only three feet deep, there was the little matter of getting through a mangrove lagoon in order to reach the open waters of the BioBay, a little fact that the guide book neglected to mention.
But not to worry, or so we thought. We had a guide with a headlamp who would lead us through the swamp. And we were wearing life vests. And our kayaks each had a tiny glow stick in the front (green) and one in the back (red). We looked around the beach and saw a bus pull up for another tour company next to ours with life vests with blinking lights, glass bottom kayaks, and lots of real live guides. But hey, I’ll bet they didn’t pay thirty-five bucks a head.
Amazingly, our teams boarded their kayaks and began paddling to our initial meeting point without incident. The Semiskilled Duo began right behind Maria, in the number two position, but was quickly outstripped by all the teams except for the Pharaohs, as we paddled across the opening to the mangrove lagoon.
Abby quickly had Diane trained in kayaking, and the Pros took the lead, right behind Maria. They were so far ahead that we never saw them again until we gathered in the BioBay. Once we entered the lagoon, the channel we had to navigate was narrow and interestingly, since it was pitch black, we had to find our way by a lot of trial and error, since the only light available to us stragglers was the glow stick on the front of our kayak and occasional glimpse of the red glow stick on the back of a kayak far ahead.
The Semiskilled Duo fell way back in the pack, behind the Franchise, the Sightseers, and the Couple. After the Sightseers had a nasty collision with a mangrove root, the Franchise came back to help, and the Couple took pity on the Semiskilled Duo and slowed their pace so we could try to stop running into the roots.
In the meantime, the Pharaohs, in a cunning display of slothfulness, had proven themselves so inept at paddling a kayak that the guide in the rear of our tour had lashed them to his kayak and was now towing them as they lay back and enjoyed the ride.
As bats flew overhead and shrimp jumped into our kayaks, we slowly made our way through the maze of the mangrove lagoon, wondering how this adventure would end.
Next Week: Mine eyes have seen the glowing…

Getting There Is Half the Fun

The acme (or nadir, depending on who’s telling the story) of our Puerto Rican holiday trip was our trip to the Bio Bay, one of the “must-sees” in every tour book I read about the island.
Let us take a moment to give you, dear reader, and some background. The Bio Bay is one of nature’s wonders, a location where microorganisms called dinoflagelates live and when they are disturbed by motion in the water, a chemical chain reaction is set off that results in a bioluminescent glow. According to the website biobay.com, “The defense mechanism starts a chemical chain reaction that results in a blue green glow that lasts as long as the organism is disturbed. It is not like a ‘glow in the dark’ toy that has to be held up to a light and charged up. This is a reaction that occurs because a very specific set of nutrients are available in the water to sustain these little ‘water fireflies’.”
This, of course, sounds like the coolest thing ever, right? Who wouldn’t want to go to see a bay with its own glow-in-the-dark creatures? It was definitely on my list as a destination. There are several Bio Bays in Puerto Rico, one off the coast of Fajardo on Puerto Rico proper, and another in Vieques, a small island off the coast of Puerto Rico, which involves a ferry ride, etc.
So Fajardo it was. I found some numbers to call in the book, and the one that answered was Las Tortugas Adventures. Soon I was talking to owner Gary Horne and telling him that I had twelve people who wanted to sail kayaks into the Bio Bay. We settled on a price and he said he would email me directions. He advised us to wear clothes that we could get wet and suggested we bring towels.
It was about this time that I should have suspected that perhaps we were signing up for more of an adventure than we had expected. Gary tried unsuccessfully to send the directions via email, so he gave me the complicated directions over the phone, which I frantically scribbled. He told us it would take about one and a half hours to get there, and he expected us at 5:30. It was now 4 o’clock. Yikes.
Suddenly, it felt like we were in an episode of “The Amazing Race.” Three carloads of us screamed out of the hotel, filled with nature lovers determined to see an environmental miracle.
But first we had to find Fajardo and Las Croabas Park. Fortunately, two of the three cars had a global positioning system (GPS) and we were able to plug in “Fajardo.” This got us a good part of the way there, in spite of the fact that the GPS disagreed with the way we were going and repeatedly told us to “make the next legal U turn.” Ignoring this command, we reached Fajardo, and even found Conquistador Avenue. We were so close that we figured the last part would be easy, but there were roads that “T”ed into other roads and lots of other things complicated by the scribbling and the language barrier, so by the time we arrived, we had made lots of illegal U turns and were still running late—and lost!
Exasperated but undeterred, we pulled over to ask some locals where the park was and finally squealed into the parking lot, about twenty minutes late. The twelve of us ran across to the Las Tortugas Adventure truck, where Gary and Maria were waiting for us, an intrepid band of BioBay explorers. We couldn’t wait to get our feet wet!

We Invade Puerto Rico

Our family Christmas trip to Puerto Rico, though short, was definitely action packed. You might say the Stabberts stormed Puerto Rico.
In just five days, we managed, as a family or in small to medium groups, to climb, swim, tour, play, kayak, drive around, or eat most of what Puerto Rico has to offer. You have to remember there were 29 of us, so in small groups, we could cover a lot of ground and do a good bit of damage.
I really can’t say enough about the Marriott Stellaris Resort. It was a wonderful place for the entire crew. Great rooms, great beach, great pools, a casino, and they didn’t mind if you walked into the lobby without shoes, which turned out to be really fortunate as our trip progressed.
Several groups went to tour the rainforest “El Yunque”, which is in the mountains of the island. While there are bugs, there are no monkeys in the rain forest. Though I did not partake of this tour, those who did said it was great.
And then there was the great shopping in Old San Juan. If you have been to any other islands in the Caribbean, you may have experienced the narrow-streets lined with shops where the shopkeepers try to physically pull you into their shops. Thank goodness, we experienced none of that in Puerto Rico. My sisters and I were able to find some great, very reasonably priced jewelry in the little shops in the picturesque city.
Many of us took the time to go to El Morro, the old fort of San Juan, now a National Park. The park rangers are very informative, giving a quick history of the island and the impressive fort, built in 1539, which sits high on a blustery bluff guarding the city once known as “Puerto Rico” (the rich port). In the early days, the island was known as San Juan, until city and island swapped names.
And Mom and Dad wanted to go back to Dorado Beach, a vacation spot they had visited in the mid-70’s with their good friends, Jack and Ethel Bennett. We drove them out there on Sunday, finding our way with the help of a sketchy “tourist” map and my husband’s cartographical skills. We sweet-talked the gatekeeper and drove down to the golf club, where they were getting ready for someone’s wedding. I was driving and dropped off my mom, dad, sister and husband. Two little children came up to them, the boy shaking my father’s hand, and the little girl giving my sister a kiss on both cheeks, as she handed my mother a small gift. Sadly, we weren’t there for the wedding, but went upstairs to have a look around and a libation to celebrate Mom and Dad’s return to Dorado Beach.
That evening, as we enjoyed our dinner at Miro, a Catallan-inspired seafood restaurant across the street from the Marriott, we had no idea the adventure that would await the few, the brave, the BioBay Dozen.
We Lucky Twelve were about to enter our own “Amazing Race”, complete with fruit bats, kayaks, map-reading skills, shrimp, soggy shorts, and let us not forget, the lost shoes…

Happy Holidays from Puerto Rico

LIFELINES: Happy Holidays from Puerto Rico!
My mother has had a lot of good ideas in her life, but it would be hard to beat her latest good idea: taking the family for Puerto Rico for Christmas. This idea went beyond being good to being genius.
She had been talking about it for awhile. And, as much as we all love our Callicoon Christmas, having our family celebration in a tropical resort sounded mighty appealing. None of us needed much convincing.
And so it came to pass that on December 20, all twenty-nine of us boarded jets and made our way to San Juan, Puerto Rico.
The families living in the Northeast had to dodge two snowstorms to get out of town, but we did it, by gum! As our Jet Blue aircraft lifted into the sky, we thanked our lucky stars for our fortuitous timing and settled in for the relatively short (3 hour) flight to sunshine.
One thing to remember when traveling in a group is that things take a little longer than you might expect. And by the time we landed, got our luggage (nothing lost!), got some rental cars, found our way to our Marriott Stellaris Resort and Casino, checked in and got to our beautiful rooms with views of the ocean, it was almost time for us to get ready for dinner!
Our resort was wonderful, chosen by my very smart daughter (the doctor!) and it had everything! There were pools, a swim-up bar, a water slide, a beach bar, a hot tub and a great beach, with real waves! Inside the resort there was a real, live casino, the requisite gift shop, a great live band on Saturday and Sunday night, several restaurants and great room service! On top of that, everyone we met went out of their way to be of assistance to us, so it was pretty much perfect!
We had booked the rooms early in September, when my daughter found a deal online. Yet, when I called and emailed the week before we left to find out about our rooms, I received a call from a lovely woman in group sales saying that since we had thirteen rooms books, she would reduce our rate even more! How many places do you know who would do that? And will we go back? Hopefully, yes!
Our dinner the first night was at the Ristorante Tuscany at the hotel, an award-winning restaurant specializing in Italian cuisine. The entire crew of 29 had our own party room for this dinner, which was wonderful. Of course, after having some interesting happenings on earlier trips (like a dinner we had planned that our London hotel had no knowledge of!), we know to ask for email confirmations and to check on the arrangements ahead of time. But they were ready for us and everything went off without a hitch. It was wonderful to see the whole family again, especially Chris and Beth Finch’s little angels, Emily and Peyton. What fun!
Our first day of travel, good food, and family adventure had begun, and after dinner, some of us decided to check out the hot tub, while the boys headed off to the casino! Good times!

Penny Loves the Snow!!!!

Our dog Penny is a snow dog. She has always, always loved the snow. In fact, she loves to swim in it! We wanted to capture the sheer joy of her snow-doggin' on camera!

Hope Won

President Barack Obama.
Wow. We did it! We voted for hope rather than fear; America made a choice that reflected the
beliefs that so many of us have held dear for decades.
On Election Day, as I was watching the returns come in, I kept thinking about my visit this summer to the Bethel Woods Museum. If you haven’t been there yet, I suggest you make it a point to go. For there you can take a walk through the fifties and sixties, and remember the civil rights struggles of those days, the protest marches against war and for equality, and especially the spirit that began to grow in those decades saying that we are all God’s children, black and white, gay and straight, young and old.
And America belongs to all of us.
For quite a while now, we have been living in a land of fear, where our leaders tried to manipulate us and stoke our hatred of “the other.” “The other” is that person who doesn’t look like us, doesn’t speak our language, may have a different religion or skin color. We have watched as we went into a war that proved needless, since the weapons that were supposed to be there never existed. We have watched as our country used torture on prisoners. We have watched as our workers lost their jobs and our families lost their houses. We have watched as the hypocrisy of “No Child Left Behind” became yet another unfunded mandate and enriched the test makers as it demoralized teachers and students alike.
Where were the protests of the sixties? Granted, there were some big marches against the war, but it felt like our country had lost its soul, or had grown too tired to stand up to the injustices of the age.
And then, somehow, during this endless election cycle, a movement began to grow as Barack Obama’s unlikely candidacy became reality. And all those folks who were weary of the Bush doctrines went online and found that Obama’s campaign needed them. They got on busses and planes and traveled to wherever they were needed to knock on doors or make phone calls and spread the word. And once again, they dared to hope that the United States might be able to live up to its greatest promise: that a person here is judged by the content of his character, not the color of his skin, as Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. so eloquently put it.
Then we went to vote, afraid to hope that it actually might happen.
My daughter voted in Manhattan, standing in a line three blocks long. She watched an elderly black woman making her way down the sidewalk in her walker, her head bent down, intent on finding her way. When she looked up and saw the lines of people out to vote, a huge smile spread across her face.
This is the United States of America that I love; a place of fairness and equality and even playing fields. A meritocracy that remembers its soul; a place where hope lives and dreams come true. Yesterday, Oprah was wearing a shirt that declared: “Hope Won.”
Yes, indeed.

Voting for Hope

Is the election over yet? I was reading through a column I wrote back in February, when I was already tired of the months and months of political wrangling between candidates.

Yes, if it is a word, I am tireder than I was eight months ago.

I know for whom I am going to vote, and I’ll give you a clue: my candidates never supported a bridge to nowhere. My candidates cannot see Russia from their front porches, and they are not particular friends with Joe (aka Sam) the (non) plumber.

My candidates are not (contrary to what you may have heard), Arabs, Muslims, friends with terrorists, or Marxists.

Have you guessed who is going to get my vote?

Yep, it’s Obama and Biden.

All I want is a fresh start, with someone with new ideas, a keen intellect, and the ability to make sound decisions for my country, which has gone further and further off the rails for the last eight years.

I want a leader who will restore our standing in the world. I want someone who will help us discover our best selves again; to reclaim the hope and promise of our wonderful country. And, for me, Obama is the man with the plan.

But the negative campaigning is really discouraging.

Like Wall Street’s wild ride, this politicking seems to have no bottom. Just when you think it can’t get any nastier, it does. I would venture a guess that many Americans are tired of all the venom and hatefulness that has become evident in the final days of this political battle.

Historically, elections always get negative. I have read enough biographies of American Presidents to know that much. We may think that we have reached new lows, but it is pretty standard fare to accuse one’s opponent of everything from treason to dishonesty to failing to pick up his socks.

The reason that we feel so worn out is probably because the modern primary season goes on forever and these candidates have been at it, in one form or another, for two years now.

So let’s take a deep breath and do what I suggested back in February. Let’s dispassionately look at the issues that matter to us, whether it is health care, education, or energy, and compare the candidates’ positions. This information is all out there, hiding amidst all the ad hominem attacks and distractions.

Do the research. Make your choice. Don’t engage in the hateration.

And then vote. And hope to goodness that by next Tuesday night, we know who our new President is. Spare us, dear Lord, from the curse of the hanging chad!

Papal Visit, Sort Of

Cute Swiss Guard at the Vatican in full pajamas

Laocoon and his Sons
in the Vatican collection

Modern Art in the Vatican Gardens

Our eleven day Italian trip was coming to an end. Our tour mates had become buddies, and , in some cases, friends. We had bonded through our shared experiences of climbing treacherous mountain trails, learning how to taste olive oil, eating plates of amazing Italian cuisine, and drinking slightly more than our share of wonderful Italian wine. It was fitting, then, with all these experiences together, that our last full day in Italy was spent making a spiritual pilgrimage of sorts.
Our penultimate day in Roma was spent touring the Vatican, the home of Pope Benedict as well as one of the largest collections of art in the world. That was part of the payoff of being Pope back in the day—all the best artists wanted to have their work in your house.
We took one of Rome’s two subway lines to get to Vatican City. Yeah, get this. The big city of Rome has two, count ‘em, two subway lines. One goes north-south, the other east-west. The problem with digging more lines is that every time you dig a hole in Rome, you find some kind of archeological artifact! That stops the digging in a quick hurry, while the government sends in the archeologists with their teaspoons and toothbrushes to unearth more historic treasures, which is definitely going to put a crimp in the subway digging schedule.
Our guide Karin told us that you see some pretty weird stuff in some Roman homes. A family might decide to renovate their basement and do some digging, which unearths some Roman detritus from an earlier century. If you tell the government, your home is overrun by you-know-who, those teaspoon and toothbrush people. So you keep your mouth shut, renovate your basement and put that ancient bust of Plutarch on a pedestal in your living room. Finders, keepers, and all that.

Clean, TV equipped Roman subway

So we took the beautiful, clean, television-equipped Roman subway to Vatican City, where we got in the long line (even for tour groups) for the Vatican.
Karin took us into the Vatican Gardens, where they have cleverly set up a series of large posters with the highlights of the Sistine Chapel paintings by Michelangelo. There she could explain the work to us, since speaking in the Sistine Chapel is forbidden ( a rule that is ignored by most of the tourists there, which necessitates the loud “Silencio” at regular intervals).

Karin shows us the Sistine treasures

Then she wound us through the maze of rooms that make up the papal palace, stopping at certain spots to show us particular works, than plowing ahead to reach the Sistine Chapel.
It was at once bigger and more intimate than I expected. And involves a lot of neck craning. But it is breathtaking and moving and it is hard to believe that this was painted by someone who considered himself more of a sculptor than a painter, for it is masterful. That Michelangelo had serious skills.
Our last evening together was spent at a restaurant near the Spanish Steps. We each had a chance to tell what we loved about the trip and the folks we had met. There were a lot of laughs and even some tears.
Ciao, ciao, Italia!

Roman Miracle

The last city we visited in our eleven day Italian odyssey was the Eternal City, Rome. Visiting Rome is like visiting New York City. There is absolutely no way you could possibly see everything worth seeing, even if you had two months to spend there, much less only two days. We knew that going in, and we content to make the most of the two main tours planned, one of ancient Rome and the other of Vatican City.

Our first day in Rome was spent looking at ancient Roman ruins, most notably the Colosseum and the Forum. Our tour guide, the lovely Francesca, was absolutely spellbinding as she explained that this history of Rome belongs to all of us. With her masterful and poetic language, she helped us to see that the civilization that began in Rome echoes through all our histories and cultures. Our day’s walk ended at the Pantheon, the remarkable architectural triumph built in 124 BC as a temple for all the gods. It is well preserved, and has served as a Catholic church since the 600’s.

As a side note, it was shortly after our tour of the Pantheon that a minor miracle occurred. You see, this tour was not without its victims, and I was one of them. I left some of my belongings in almost every hotel we visited. It really wasn’t easy to get everything packed and unpacked every two days! The most grievous loss for me happened as we left Siena. We were on the bus and just leaving the city limits, when I had a blinding flash of realization that I had left the battery for my camera still plugged into the charger in the wall socket right next to my bed. These are the moments when you realize that the group cannot be inconvenienced for your forgetfulness. Sigh.

I took a deep breath and dealt with it, but the photos of the breathtaking agriturismo were all kindly sent to me by our delightful Canadian tour mate Dorothy. She also sent me pictures of the Colosseum and the Forum.

So anyway, back to the miracle. We stopped for a libation after our hot, dusty trip through ancient Rome, and what to my wondering eyes should appear, but a shop selling sunglasses and camera batteries! Who am I to question the logic? I went inside and, sure enough, there must be lots of dopey tourists like me who lose their batteries or forget to bring along a charger, because they had fully charged batteries on sale! Mirabile dictu, as Caesar himself might say.

From the Pantheon, our tour guide Karin turned us loose for dinner and we took off to find the famous Trattoria der Pallaro run by the famous Italian mama Paola Fazi. There is no menu here—you just sit down and dinner is served. Eight of us gathered around the table for the 22-euro meal which included a table filled with appetizers, including Genoa salami, fresh mozzarella, olives, caprese salad, bread, and more, followed by a rich penne carbonara, followed by pork roast, followed by peach tarts and fresh peaches. We washed all this down with pitcher after pitcher of red wine. It was quite a show, with Mama Paola bustling in and out of the kitchen, shouting orders to all her cooks and waiters non-stop.

We had one more day in Roma and we were off to see the Pope…

Down on the (Italian) Farm

Our fourth stop of our Italian tour was at the Agriturismo La Rocca Orvieto. Permit me to translate. An agriturismo is a farm which also takes in tourists. La Rocca was the name of both the agriturismo and the vineyard surrounding it. And Orvieto is the name of the town at the top of a steep hill nearby.
Put them all together and you have one of the most beautiful, relaxing places in all of Italy. This agriturismo sits near the very top of a hill and is reached by one of the most windy roads it has ever been my pleasure to ride on a bus. In fact, the last switchback is so tight that the road had to be widened for our bus to make the turn. Our driver Fausto was a genius when it came to navigating those interesting Italian country highways.
We arrived at the agriturismo after a very full day of sightseeing, and we were ready for some relaxation. Emiliano, Sabrina, and Serena have created a first class retreat for those seeking a respite in the gorgeous Umbrian countryside.
La Rocca Orvieto overlooks Umbria for miles in every direction. Both evenings that we stayed there we had dinner al fresco at their Ristorante La Rocca, where we could sip the delicious local white and red wines and watch the sun set over breathtaking views.
And did I mention the rooms? They were wonderful! Brand new, up to date, each with its own outdoor patio, huge windows to capture the incredible views, marble floors (what else?) and lovely bathrooms.
We never wanted to leave this oasis of serenity. And I mean never.
But somehow our guide Karin talked us into a day trip to Orvieto. Orvieto is another one of those Italian movie-set villages with the medieval church, quaint shops and cobblestone streets. It also had a street fair/flea market going on. The highlight of this for me was the porchetta (aka porketta) booth. Behind the glass in this wheeled booth is proudly displayed an entire roast pig. From said pig are carved slices of a most delicious pork roast, which is then put between a crusty Italian roll for a walk-away sandwich that you will never forget. The porchetta wagon is a fairly common sight in Italy, and with good reason. Give me a porchetta sandwich and a glass of vino, and I’d pretty much be set for the day.
Orvieto is famous for its striped Duomo (church), as well as its Etruscan ancestors, whose tombs have been studied extensively and are on display in a small museum. The Etruscans made, among other things, very lovely gold jewelry. This mysterious race predated the Romans.
After our sojourn to Orvieto, memorable for its food and wine, as well as the trip up the funicular to reach this city built on a butte, we returned to our beloved agriturismo for a well deserved dip in their spectacular pool, another glass or two of vino, some local cheese and salami, followed by another spectacular meal overlooking the landscape of heaven. Ah, La Rocca, I miss you still!