Bad ideas
Do not grocery shop when you're hungry.
Do not bathing suit shop when you're leaving for the beach in an hour.
And do not realize, at 10 pm at night, that you haven't eaten anything since toast and cappuccino when you've been cooped up working next to the fireplace all day. When you finally stand up, you will be ravenous and just a little dizzy (at least partially from the smoke fumes). You will pour yourself a giant glass of 2-euro-a-liter-Chianti and proceed to snack your way through an entire bowl of walnuts (from your neighbors' tree) while tossing a fresh pizza crust in the oven.
After 30 minutes, you will be halfway through your second (generous) glass of wine, tipsy from the hunger more than the alcohol, responding to an email with one hand, and burning the crap out of the roof of your mouth on the sausage and green olive pizza you threw together from the marginal fixins in your fridge.
You will have sliced the pizza haphazardly with scissors and be thankful there are no Italians peering in your windows. You will sprinkle too many peperoncino flakes and drizzle too much fresh "nuovo" olio onto said pizza, and you will reassure yourself that the grapes in the wine and the olives on the pizza must count as at least four "fruits and vegetables" for the day.
And you will swear to do better tomorrow by spending extra time with the really nice vegetable man during market day in the piazza.
Really, that's just exactly how it would go. Yup: a snapshot of a day in the Tuscan countryside; it's not always so pretty and Frances-Mayesy.
God, I can't believe I just wrote that. I'd better hit publish before I realize this is pretty much just like letting you all peer in my windows. ;>
Do not bathing suit shop when you're leaving for the beach in an hour.
And do not realize, at 10 pm at night, that you haven't eaten anything since toast and cappuccino when you've been cooped up working next to the fireplace all day. When you finally stand up, you will be ravenous and just a little dizzy (at least partially from the smoke fumes). You will pour yourself a giant glass of 2-euro-a-liter-Chianti and proceed to snack your way through an entire bowl of walnuts (from your neighbors' tree) while tossing a fresh pizza crust in the oven.
After 30 minutes, you will be halfway through your second (generous) glass of wine, tipsy from the hunger more than the alcohol, responding to an email with one hand, and burning the crap out of the roof of your mouth on the sausage and green olive pizza you threw together from the marginal fixins in your fridge.
You will have sliced the pizza haphazardly with scissors and be thankful there are no Italians peering in your windows. You will sprinkle too many peperoncino flakes and drizzle too much fresh "nuovo" olio onto said pizza, and you will reassure yourself that the grapes in the wine and the olives on the pizza must count as at least four "fruits and vegetables" for the day.
And you will swear to do better tomorrow by spending extra time with the really nice vegetable man during market day in the piazza.
Really, that's just exactly how it would go. Yup: a snapshot of a day in the Tuscan countryside; it's not always so pretty and Frances-Mayesy.
God, I can't believe I just wrote that. I'd better hit publish before I realize this is pretty much just like letting you all peer in my windows. ;>
posted by Viaggiatore | 12/13/2006
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