Mama Mia They Can Cook!

"I'm only 10 minutes old!"

The next day was my first full day in Praiano, and we were meeting up with my son’s friend’s friend from Naples. His parents had flown in the night before and we were all to meet up for lunch. At this point in time I was quickly learning nothing happens as planned or on time in Italy. The boys had made plans the day before for their own English mass at 3:30 in the church as it was Sunday. Then my daughter decided to take the bus down from Rome to be with us and the boys decided we had to go to this Agritourismo nearby. I was also to learn ‘nearby’ on the coast can be really close as the crow flies, but incredibly far by car.

An Agritourismo is most often a farm which has rooms to rent and serves meals. Usually a certain percentage of the food served must be raised and produced on that farm. Much of it is organic and all natural. My son had talked about taking me to one for a long time so I was really looking forward to finally experiencing this slice of Italy. We met his friends at the bottom of my stairs later than originally planned and they followed us in their car. We took another breathtaking drive along a new part of the coast that first wound around the point I live on and I then realized there was a whole other half of Praiano on the other side of that point. We continued to wind higher and higher and through tunnels and always with the sea straight below us. Finally we started going inland only to realize we were following the sea into a deep gorge and up to where our Agritourismo was located. Thank God for the GPS or we never would have known what little tiny roads to turn onto.

We arrived around 1:30 and climbed down about 25 steps to get to the entrance of the farmhouse. We were met by Domenico, the owner, wearing a jaunty little cap, a cheerful and quick smile and lots of enthusiastic Italian, and shown in and given a little tour. Since he spoke only Italian my son and his friend did a lot of translating. It was a beautiful home and very well tended, not at all the old dirty farmhouse I thought it might be. One room contained long bunches of the native cherry tomatoes hanging from the ceiling drying, another was filled with hanging sausages and hams and other meats cured by Domenica, another was filled with large stainless steel wine vats where he had us draw our own wine, both red and white. Then he took us to the spotless and beautifully tiled kitchen where his wife was stirring a tomato sauce with their own olive oil, garlic and tomatoes, while his daughter was making a type of pasta which is a local specialty. Then we were ushered into the dining room which overlooks the valley. Here was an open fire in a brick oven and a large table set with all types of antipasto. Marinated squash which looked like red peppers, but wasn’t, olives, bread made in the brick oven, buffalo mozzarella, sausage, bruschetta, and more. We were next served the pasta we had seen them making in the kitchen – simple but delicious. Then they brought in meat and grilled it in front of us in the brick oven, first a type of pork loin, then a heavenly sausage and last, mozzarella stuffed with olive and prosciutto, sliced and grilled on a lemon leaf. Oh my! Through all this my daughter was attempting to take one bus, a train and another bus to reach us from Rome. She had also run out of minutes on her cell phone so the only way to reach her was for us to call her European cell phone. I was a wreck worrying she wouldn’t be able to find a connection and have to sit somewhere for hours so I kept making my son get up and call her. We also were rapidly passing the 3:30 mark for mass. It was turning into a very Italian day. As we were enjoying cookies and liqueurs also made on the farm, Domenico came in and announced something very special had just happened – a baby goat had been born in the yard and would we like to see it. We all jumped up at this chance and grabbed our cameras. Out in the barnyard (right next to the dining room – it is a farm) was the mother goat licking away at the newborn kid who was weakly bleating and trying to stand. I found it absolutely fascinating, but most of the others were pretty disgusted because the baby was covered in birthing fluids and the mother was, as they all said “oozing” placenta down her backside. Talk about a real farm experience. I took pictures and it was so cute to see the baby try to stand and the mother keep baa—ing when it bleeted, although, I couldn’t help but wonder if this was going to be on some future menu. Right beside the mother goat was the door to the goat yard and I looked in and the ram was extremely agitated to be excluded from the birth. He was huge and angry and kept ramming his impressive horns into the stone foundation of the barn to let everyone know that was his baby. Finally, Domenico showed me the trail that led through the mountains back to Praiano and said it was only a 20 minute walk. I was shocked as it had taken us longer than that to drive here. But the road was twisted and slow and the mountain trail went directly to the far side of Praino, not where I live.  And if he knew how I walked he probably would have said 3 hours.

We drove back to Praiano and as we parked our car the local bus drove up and dropped off my daughter. Perfect! It was way past 3:30. I was becoming a real Italian. We then went to the 6:00 mass where the boys con-celebrated with the local priest, Don Pio, who I guess introduced them and us to the congregation. I didn’t understand a word. The mass was mainly women. Where were all the men? After mass we went to the bar across the street, the famous bar, to buy some bottled water, and we found the men. Interesting, women pray, men talk and drink coffee. Some of the women then came from mass and met the men.  This was going to be interesting to watch the next few weeks.

We then had great take-out pizza from the restaurant we ate at the night before. God bless the Italians and their pizza.