Surprise gift in a Tuscan alleyway
By AAA Inspector 70

The gardens of the Tuscan farm, Fattoria Castiglionchio.

I have discovered that even when I spend a massive amount of time planning an adventure, I derive the most pleasure from the unplanned, unexpected, atypical experience. I’ve learned to make a plan, but be open to deviations. This year, my mom and I decided to celebrate her birthday, a big one, by spending two weeks in Italy. As I have more experience with international travel, I designed the trip. We knew we wanted to spend most of our time seeing the famous sights of Florence and Rome, but worried that it would be overwhelming. So, we decided to spend three days between city visits at Fattoria Castiglionchio, a Tuscan farm located about 10 miles east of Florence.

When the train pulled up to Pontassieve, the small town closest to the farm, we noticed a contrast from the Florentine landscape. Although Pontassieve had medieval roots, much of the town was destroyed by Allied bombing during WWII. The restoration in the 40s and 50s resulted in a more industrial, concrete appearance. The concrete buildings haven’t aged well. After the majesty of Florence’s medieval edifices, Pontassieve appeared worn down, discolored, and distressed. The weary gray buildings matched the dreary gray sky that accompanied us that day. We were relieved to escape the bland city blocks as we headed toward the textured greenery of the Tuscan vineyards.

We could have rented a car—most people rent a car to explore the area—but I figured we needed a break from the Renaissance, from grand basilicas, from a schedule packed with activities before we headed to Rome to take on the Vatican museums, the Colosseum, and the Pantheon. I thought we would hole up in the countryside, experiencing rural Tuscany and sampling wine from the farm’s vineyards. Unfortunately, we ended up at the farm with fewer supplies than we needed.

Staying at a farm in Tuscany is much like renting a cabin in Colorado’s mountains—you’re expected to bring your own supplies. While I knew that going in, I failed to bring a few things. We had not planned to return to Pontassieve until we left for Rome. I suggested we walk the three miles to town since the fast and bumpy van ride up to the farm resulted in a blurred glimpse of the landscape. The mountains in Tuscany are an older range, more akin to Colorado’s foothills, but dense with greenery nonetheless. Ancient farmhouses peek out from trees and long rows of grape bushes spread out along the hillside.

Toscani da Sempre restaurant.

Mom wasn’t initially thrilled with the idea. However, we spoke to an enthusiastic young woman at the farm, who convinced us it was an easy walk to town. She suggested we eat at one of the restaurants then have someone from the farm transport us back when we were finished. The promise of food and a car ride for the uphill return trip sealed the deal.

After visiting the American style supermarket and purchasing our supplies, we perused the list of restaurants recommended by the farm’s mini guidebook. Some of the restaurants weren’t open for lunch and I couldn’t find a few on the map. Feeling a little frustration, I finally figured out the location of Toscani da Sempre. The restaurant description said Chef Stefano Frassineti had a “passion for fresh ingredients” and had extensive knowledge of local wines. The mention of a “surprise gift” intrigued us.

When we neared the area where the restaurant’s street was supposed to be located, we saw what appeared to be an alley leading up a short distance. I looked at the map quizzically, mom looked at the slight incline, and we had our doubts. There didn’t appear to be any store fronts in that direction, just housing. We ventured forth, skeptically, but were ultimately victorious as we saw a slender green doorway with a “Toscani da Sempre” sign on the wall above it. We entered and a tall, bearded man wearing dark-framed glasses greeted us warmly. Using the most basic Italian, I indicated we would like a table for two.

Now, we had just spent a week in Florence, a city accustomed to foreign tourists. Most people spoke English and restaurant staff presented English menus without asking. When the man, Chef Frassineti, presented the menu board in Italian, we were a little nervous. I was able to translate a few of the basics, but luckily for us, he returned and spoke to us in proficient English. He asked where we were from and mentioned that he visited Beaver Creek once. Chef Frassineti declared it, “Very COLD!” almost shivering as he said it. We laughed. I asked him how he ended up in Beaver Creek. He said an American food magazine invited him and a few other Italian chefs to participate in a trip—some sort of chef’s tour around the world. I asked if it was Bon Appetit and he said yes. At this point, I suspected we might be in for a treat.

After discussing the menu with the chef, we settled on sharing a first and second course, a common way to order in Italy due to the large portions. True to its name, the risotto primavera had all the colors and flavors of spring vegetables. The vegetables were prepared just right—not mushy or hard, but with the proper amount of resistance when biting into them. The steak arrived without a fussy sauce, just a modest amount of salt, which enhanced the tender juiciness of a well-prepared cut of beef. The crispy, golden potatoes almost glowed on the plate. I normally fry potatoes in butter, but the satisfying, savory flavor of olive oil made me rethink my culinary choices.

A juicy steak and golden potatoes prepared by Chef Stefano Frassineti.

My mother and I are not big drinkers. She enjoys the occasional margarita, rose, or sweet Riesling. I prefer mojitos and dark red wines such as a Cabernet or Malbec. Neither of us had experience with Italian wines. While we traveled to Italy with the advice that any table wine in Italy would be good, we discovered the lighter Chiantis weren’t our thing. In fact, I thought they had an unpleasant sourness. Since Chef Frassineti was acclaimed for his wine knowledge, we took his wine recommendation without hesitation. The darker Chianti Rufina Cedro from Fattoria Lavacchio surprised us both. Finally, we had sampled a mild, fruity wine that went well with our meal and pleased our divergent palates.

Our delight at the first courses made the decision to order separate desserts easy. I had a light, whipped cream mousse with delicate, flaky cookies. Mom tried a dense, chocolate, hazelnut confection that I almost stole right off her plate.

The difference between this restaurant and the others we had visited was it reflected modern Italy. Sure, the chef drew on the tradition of fresh, local ingredients, classic cuisine, and fantastic wine, but he put his own twist on it. Instead of trying to recapture the ambience of the past, the décor had a clean, modern feel with plain white walls housing shelves of wine and bright red plastic chairs.

As we prepared to leave, euphoric from excellent food and wine, the chef presented us with our “surprise gift” as promised—a small jar of homemade peach sauce. We experienced a small piece of authentic Italy, not something fabricated for tourists, hidden in an alley-like street, in an unassuming, plain building. A day that began with a hurdle ended with a delightful surprise. I couldn’t have planned it better.

One of Chef Frassineti’s delectable desserts.

AAA Inspector 70 lived an eclectic, nomadic life before settling in the Western U.S. and taking on the life of an anonymous AAA lodging and restaurant inspector. She gained knowledge of the hospitality industry by working in a casino on an American Indian reservation and also catered to the needs of guests and horses while working for a horseback riding tour company in Las Alpujarras, Spain. Inspector 70 was lucky enough to spend six months working odd jobs in Edinburgh, Scotland. She continues to travel to far-off places for fun. Some of her favorite experiences include drinking tea with geishas in Kyoto during the Plum Blossom Festival, snorkeling in the barrier reef around Grand Cayman, and climbing to the top of the pyramid in Chichen Itza.

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Surprise gift in a Tuscan alleyway By AAA Inspector 70

Surprise gift in a Tuscan alleyway
By AAA Inspector 70