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Pienza

Pienza, a UNESCO World Heritage site, is undeniably quaint and well preserved as far as Tuscan hill towns go. With only 2,500 residents, however, the tourist trade completely overwhelms the place. The stores sell spendy knickknacks, art, postcards, pecorino cheese, and cured meats, but no toilet paper, ant spray, or dog food. I think the locals shop at the supermarket on the outskirts of town (i.e., three blocks from the center of town).

Nevertheless, we found great food at better prices than in Florence. Finally, I got my wild boar, its brown saucy goodness perfect for mopping up with the dry crust that Italians call bread.

Our Agriturismo, Terrapile

Terrapile offered peace and quiet after a hectic couple of days in Florence. It is as amazing as the photos suggest, perched on a little hill just a 15 minute walk outside of town. So pretty, in fact, that scenes from Gladiator were shot here.

We actually stayed in the annex, a little ways off the main house. Aside from Lucia, our host, who lived upstairs, the annex remained empty through our five nights. Dead quiet except for distant dogs barking (always there are dogs barking in Italy).

It was kind of warm and stuffy in the room, though, since converted farmhouses traditionally have very few windows. We left the door open on the first night only to find an army of pillbugs had rolled in overnight. While harmless, the thought of them crunching underfoot as I went to the bathroom in the dark was...unpleasant.

Lucia shrugged. "Ah, it is normal for the countryside. I live with them always. They are here before me."

Used to the rigors of country living, I replied nonchalantly, "Of course, of course. But, um, maybe they are a problem for you when you clean?"

"Eh, no problem. I make them woosh woosh." She made little vacuuming motions.

"Ah, si, si. Well, I think we will keep the door closed anyway. Maybe you can bring us a fan?"

Siena

After a day lounging around the pool and cruising Pienza's main drag, we took a day trip to Siena, about an hour away. Siena is Florence's Tuscan rival, with its own unique character and proud history. Its cathedral, while more modest than the famous Florence Duomo, is architecturally significant in its own right. Or so Jen and I learned after we grudgingly shelled out 16 euro for an entrance fee and audio guide (around $24 or 7.5 gelatos). Seriously, it was like the stations of the cross, as we dutifully listened to a mind numbing stream of facts about the place.

Our effort to be good tourists paid off later that afternoon, however, when we spent another five euros each (2.5 gelatos) to watch a surprisingly entertaining movie about the Palio di Siena, the town's famous festival. The event, which takes place every August, culminates in a demolition derby of horses around Siena's main square, and draws aficionado from all over the country.

As with all great events whose roots are lost in time, the Palio involves an elaborate series of rituals. First, as foreplay, a series of male cheerleaders in period costume march around the main square tossing flags into the air, each representing one of the town's wards. The crowd, which has been massing and drinking in the square all morning, grows increasingly restless. After much trumpeting, sword waving, and flag tossing, the horse race finally erupts into an insane spectacle. The wild-eyed jockeys whip their horses with dried bulls penises (look it up), as they barrel into one another and carom off the walls. Three laps of frenzied animal cruelty later, the winning ward surges forward to kiss the horse and rider in a drunken ecstasy of medieval-ness, then scales the walls to claim the silk tapestry called the Palio.

After all this sightseeing, we visited the Benetton outlet store and Jen bought the Max Pezzali greatest hits album.

Montepulciano and The Big Steak

Only 20 minutes from Pienza, Montepulciano is big enough to feel like it has a real residential base and some culture beyond tourism. After some walking around, we had lunch at a restaurant that turned out to be a real showstopper for Tuscan cuisine. The chef is a bit of a hardass when it comes to tradition, insisting on serving your table wine and water with just one glass (we'd seen this in one other place) and scrawling the menus on rough brown paper. He struts around in a white linen shirt and a little ponytail, looking gruff and threatening. A bit much, yeah, but he has the food to back it up.

Unfortunately, I ordered poorly, due to the Italian-only menu. I started with a French onion soup which was fine, but not awesome. (It wasn't called French onion soup on the menu.) Then, as a main course, I had a bowl of undressed shredded radicchio. I had wanted a salad, but this was a bit grim. I must have looked disappointed when it showed up because the French tourist across from me started laughing, and the two Italian businessmen next to us looked over questioningly.

"Vegetariano?" one guy asked the other.

The dessert, however, blew our mind. In heaven, they serve this exact panna cotta. It comes in a simple glass, with a thin layer of golden caramel. The cream is smooth, and rich, but not too sweet. With every spoonful, I thought to myself, "Is this really good? Yes, yes, it is."

Anyway, this dessert, plus the dishes ordered by the folks around us, convinced us to make a reservation for dinner.

That's when I had The Big Steak. Bistecca fiorentina is up there with Argentine steak, Brazilian churrasco, and Kobe beef as a celebration of red meat. At this place, when you order it, the chef draws a little diagram on your placemat of which cut he thinks you should order. I, for one, would have felt like a big pussy if I opted for the filet, so t-bone it was.

"It is better if you do not eat too much bread," he grunted.

He then went to the kitchen and I actually saw and heard him swing a cleaver the size of a manila envelope. He then returned to our table and showed me the meat on a piece of butcher paper. I nodded in fear and anticipation.

In the photo, I wish I had placed a key next to the meat for scale, because this thing drew appreciative oohs and aahs from our neighbors. Large enough to serve four, it had a gorgeous seared exterior, crusted with chunks of salt and pepper, and a ruby red center. It was glorious. I am salivating right now. Each mouthful bursted with salty, juicy, almost mineral-like goodness.

Jen, thankfully, helped me out.

Then we had panna cotta for dessert again.

Perugia

Done with tourist spots for a while, Jen wanted to visit Perugia, a college town in Umbria, the province just east of Tuscany. Perugia was a breath of fresh air - literally, as it's stacked high on a hillside far above the valley. While it still had its share of visitors, it felt like a real place, with students livening the city up. Every night they gather on the cathedral steps to hang out, drink a beer, and mingle.

Perugia is also an architectural marvel, with layers upon layers of arches and windows stacked up and crisscrossing like an Escher drawing. Again, though, these medieval flats are used by regular people, not preserved as a museum.

We also had incredible gelato at a place that advertised organic ingredients and Slow Food credentials. My apricot gelato tasted more like apricot than an apricot. It was the Platonic ideal of the fruit distilled and transformed into a refreshing treat.

This, incidentally, was our 3rd wedding annivesary!