Buongiorno Principessa

First Impressions of Il Borro - Week One

A friend from Alma, Katia, brought me to Il Borro, and thank God she happened to be coming home to Tuscany from school in the north that weekend … the location of the estate is so remote and not connected to any major train lines, that it would’ve been a massive struggle to arrive with two suitcases, a computer and a purse big enough to nearly carry that computer, in effect, a lot of stuff to carry if I had to get here on my own. As it so happens, Katia’s family lives in Levane, a small town just twenty minutes away. Che culo as they say in Italian (what luck, or strictly translated, what backside …).

I spent the weekend at their house, enjoying the fruits of their labors, as farmers they harvested, cultivated or raised most of the food that we ate, from prosciutto to crostini neri to pickled vegetables and sausage. Her mother made a point of showing me the eggs that one of their hens lays, with double and triple yolks. As an American, even our organic eggs are very uniform in size, and to see the uneven bumps and deformations of these extremely natural eggs was a sheer joy. Long live the truly organic farmers! It was a nice introduction into Tuscan living, as I sopped up bread cooked over their fireplace, which sits in the kitchen next to the dining room table, with their olive oil, which had just been picked and was still green, herbaceous and peppery, and was told that I needed to literally douse the bread with oil! Somehow, at the start of my supposed diet and detox from Alma’s cooking school lunch calorie overload, this kind of oil didn’t count. It was too good to pass up, and besides it would’ve been rude not to!

It was seven thirty in the evening when Katia and her father accompanied me to Il Borro to show me my living quarters for the month and drop off my bags before another hefty, gorgeous dinner and a night on the town in Florence. It was dark and there wasn’t much to see of the property, but as we had already been here on a day trip with the school, I thought there wouldn’t be many surprises.

Was I wrong … of course, I expected to find a small room behind the kitchen or reception, with a bathroom and the bare essentials necessary for an intern to sleep, wash and study. Instead, I was shown a deluxe, even luxury, in the Tuscan country style that is, two-bedroom apartment that could easily sleep five, next to the estate’s 11-room villa.

With wood beams, a sloping roof in the living room, a fireplace, an island in the kitchen for chopping and such, a bedroom I could easily do a cartwheel in, and tiled or wooden floors, I was literally gobsmacked. I even said to my internship tutor, as she showed me around, that I was not planning to leave any time soon. This was total heaven. With Ferragamo shampoos in the bathroom and to top it off, a heated towel rack, I was in sheer bliss. That night I went to sleep repeating the words ‘thank you’ about a dozen times, to God or whoever else was there to listen. I was truly, truly grateful. I would do whatever work they wanted me to do, and hopefully learn a thing or two about wine in the process, but like Bridget Jones in Jerry McGuire, they had me not at ‘hello’ but at ‘heated towel rack’.

My first day waking up in this countryside paradise did not physically start with Buongiorno Principessa, alla Roberto Benini in Life is Beautiful, but I kept hearing those words in my head as the bright, crisp day welcomed me to Tuscany. I took my digital camera out and got shots of the gorgeous horses in the pastures – there are twenty-five in all on the estate, some the property of the Ferragamo family, others locals who board here, and some are retired horses taken gentle care of here in their last years. Along the entrance to the estate past the wrought iron gate there is a dirt road lined with Lombardy poplars, very Roman/Renaissance in style, classical yet not at all imposing.

The winery is done in a slightly more modern style, yet still reflecting the typical, terra cotta, sun-drenched colors of stucco-covered exteriors. Much to my chagrin when I took my first run, the section of the road with romantic cobblestones flanking the vineyard is a serious bitch, not to mention the sloped part where I now huff and puff most mornings, making my way in and out of the estate to the fields and paths beyond.

The bucolic setting creates peace of mind and body, and in my small, personal experience, the change took place almost instantly. On day two, I started an exercise regime, nearly quit smoking, and while I’ve caught a bit of a throat and chest bug, it’s likely three months of nicotine intake coming out of my lungs once and for all, which is a very good thing.

The food is hearty and healthy here when consumed carefully, in small doses, with reason on the reins, as I am already learning. I work in the restaurant three evenings during the week, and have gathered after a first week that just because a big pan of pasta is brought out, doesn’t mean that is all one is getting for dinner. After the bread soup and steak and salad and chocolates, I got hip to saving room, and that less is more.

The region’s fertile climate produces a bounty expressed in great, culinary strokes on the Tuscan table. And nothing goes to waste. There are traditional dishes, such as bread soup and the panzanella salad, made from stale or day-old bread, that with the help of tomatoes and spices is turned into a delicacy that would otherwise end up at best in a pig’s troth.

While I’m not a huge red meat eater, whenever one of the local Chianina steaks is placed in front of me, or any local carnivorous dish, for that matter, I have not said no. The quality of these grass-fed, practically organic creatures is bar-none, and as I know I won’t be staying here forever, when in Rome … or when in Tuscany, I should say.

As for the work side of things, I have done soup to nuts in the first week, from observing the travaso, or moving of the wine in the French oak barrels, to being shown all of the winemaking machines and why and when they are used, and for which grape varietals, to doing the research, writing and translating for a holiday brochure with local Christmas and New Years activities, to advising clients of check-in times, and translating Italian website copy into English, and assisting in two winery tours and tastings, I have been thrown in full force into the estate’s activities from the get-go. Next week, fingers crossed, I will get my hands dirty in the vines, helping out in the winter pruning, essential to the vines’ growth cycle.

A curiosity, I should mention, was my stand-in as a spa model for a local Tuscan television station. In brief, I was asked to lie on a massage table and receive a neck and arm rub with local olive oil-based treatment oils while a presenter spoke to the therapist about the spa services on offer at Il Borro. I can report that the masseuse is highly skilled and the oils are heavenly, and as a small job for an intern, it was a fun and unexpected experience. The channel is doing a special on the various non-culinary uses of olive oil in the region, and I will be sure to ask for a copy of the program once it has been aired. It tickles me to think that flipping through the channels one night I could find myself in a medium close-up in olive-oil massage heaven. Let's hope the camera lights were gentle on my pores ...

Last but certainly not least, I was blessed with a few hours of research with Luca Martini, the Ferragamo star sommelier and worldwide phenomenon (okay, I admit it, I am a fan … he is just too brilliant and I would quite humbly aspire to be him one day when I grow up to become a metaphorical 'adult' in the world of wine). One of our four theses to prepare for the final sommelier exam includes the description and analysis of a typical gastronomic product from the region of our internship, and Luca helped me to choose the rare and curious Chestnuts of Caprese Michelangelo.

There are only 11 producers of these unique nuts, all in the province of Arezzo, producing between 400-500 quintals per year, organized in an agricultural collective. Most of the chestnuts are sold locally, which is a shame as they are gorgeous and have a long tradition. Tomorrow I plan to ask Riccardo, the sweet guy at the front desk, to take me to the supermarket to buy ingredients to make the ‘baldino’ or ‘castagnaccio’, a typical chestnut cake, to bring to work next week and get some top-tips from Luca on local wine pairings, beyond its typical Tuscan match with Vin Santo.