Gervais de Bédée

Books about Us

2012-02-19T16:22:00.004+01:00

A SELECTED BIBLIOGRAPHY

Over the years the garden here at Villa Massei has been featured in numerous publications. The other day, in compiling a bibliography for our Wikipedia page, I gathered together some of the more important books in which we're featured prominently. Here's the stack.

Mario Praz?

2012-02-16T17:40:00.000+01:00

NO, BUT INSPIRED BY

I've always loved the book, An Illustrated Histiry of Interior Decoration, by Mario Praz. And though one couldn't possibly, nowadays, live in the sort of rooms he analyzes in his book, for those of us who've wanted to recreate something of that 19th century grand era in interior design in our own homes this volume is an essential departure point.

In Lucca, which had its French and then Bourbon periods, the Lucchese villas looked something like this—give or take a less likely contemporary touch here or there.

In my penultimate post I showed Gil standing in this room. The portrait over the blue divano is of Vittorio Emanuele II, first King of Italy. The piano is a "forte piano" from 1845 by Bosendorfer.

Grand Saline, St Barth

2012-02-13T16:29:00.000+01:00

UNDISTURBED

This, to my mind, is the most beautiful beach on St Barth, and this is the view of it as you arrive.

Coccoloba uvifera, or sea grape, is native to these shores.

And there it all is in front of you, its clear placid waters. It can be like swimming in champagne, with its slight bubbliness. In the distance are the islands of Saba and St Eustatius.

To the right of you.

To the left.

So what if there's a cloud, it's bliss.

A Shot and a Thought

2012-02-09T15:20:00.002+01:00

TRYING OUT MY NEW CAMERA ON GIL

The shot: Gil in "at home" mode.

The thought: If self-effacement is a virtue, only drop names that reflect very badly on you.

(Note: The two above concerns do not relate to each other in any way.)

The European Freeze

2012-02-03T12:21:00.000+01:00

AN OVERNIGHT TRANSFORMATION

I took these pictures the day before the freeze came upon us. The garden was luminescent with promise as the many thousands of narcissus bloomed under the cherry trees here at Villa Massei. I'd just come back from St Barth, and while it wasn't tropical at home, it was spring.

I filled the pots on the terrace with winter blooming plants, pansies and cyclamen. Everything you looked at said, "they're home!"

And then the morning came.

It used to be said that only a dusting of snow ever covers the Lucchese countryside. The climate's changing. We're just going to have to get used to it.

Do Brazil, Shell Beach

2012-02-01T08:20:00.000+01:00

NO SAND, ONLY SHELLS

Imagine a whole beach made of shells, no sand, or very little sand, just shells, like the ones shown above.

It isn't the nicest thing on your bare feet, but it's beautiful. It's Shell Beach on St Barth, a very protected little cove where the wind never blows and the sea is always calm, mostly.

Do Brazil is the restaurant that sits upon it, and it's full of atmosphere. Especially nice for lunch when you can see how pretty it all looks with its exotic, South-east Asian style. The food is fun and fusion.

Eden Rock

2012-01-28T16:14:00.001+01:00

A HOTEL WITH A UNIQUE FLAIR

Maybe it's because it seems to be fashioned of odd bits that wouldn't normally connect. But yet it comes together with style and even a bit of magic, if not with simplicity. There are rooms and there are bungalows and there are even beachfront villas, for those with deep pockets—the little red-hatted one above is in fact enormous, stunningly chic inside and comes with its own pool.

And there's great service—for those who are happy to see lots of staff buzzing around you doing things. Every morning these clean towels are carted in for the beach sun loungers.

It's an ugly duckling—but only if you haven't considered the details, always inventive and impeccably realized.

This swampy little waterway passes right through the hotel grounds but to make sure that no one falls into it they've stretched these masking white sails—clever.

This could be the elegant door to your suite. You won't be surprised by the glamor and luxury inside—there's always at least one Hollywood celebrity staying here.

Or you could be staying in this sea view cottage, why not? So many possibilities. Years ago this used to be the bar.

There's a resident portrait artist—wouldn't you care for one of your kids at play on the beach?

Eden Rock Hotel, St Barth.

The Other St Barth

2012-01-24T15:00:00.002+01:00

THE ISLAND YOU MIGHT HAVE MISSED

I've always loved the old port of Corossol on St Barth. It's hidden away from most tourist traffic and not particularly inviting with its steep narrow road down into it and a village intimacy that's not entirely welcoming. When you walk these narrow, very lived-in streets, you have the sense that everyone is aware of your intrusion and yet if you pass someone along the way they're always cordial, and even rather proud.

This little house is very typically St Barth, one room, and yet it was built as a dwelling, often anchored to a sturdy tree whose deep roots would help secure it in a gale.

This house has a stunning view of the sea and the port, a few steps away from its little white gate.

This is not why Roman Abramovich has chose St Barth for his winter home, yet this house has a view of his three yachts anchored half a mile or so off shore—they're far too big to come into the port of Gustavia.

The ubiquitous sun that never sets, very British, and very Caribbean!

Inappropriate lighting is often the first improvement less developed towns make in their journey to a brighter future.

The gingerbread and the filigree seem to be all over the Caribbean. I suppose the ready-made templates and decorative bricks were widely traded across the islands, regardless of their colonial traditions.

The riches of an azure sea upon ones doorstep—it's never gone unappreciated by the locals!

This is not a bad quality of life.

A very unusual cactus tree, wouldn't you say?

In this ruin of an old house someone has taken the time to hang baskets of plants.

An Italian Caribbean Island?

2012-01-20T15:32:00.003+01:00

EMERAUDE PLAGE

I'd always felt that that would be bliss, an Italian Caribbean island, where the palm trees sway and a good plate of spaghetti's never far away! But alas, it doesn't exist. This is just St Barth (or St. Bart's) and while the real estate and flavor are decidedly French, due to its proximity to the US mainland, the visitors are largely American. We've been going there since the 70s when the airport was grass and never had a Vuitton bag ever sat upon it. Our loyalties are real, however, and we still love it there—it's changed, but so are we.

We usually rent houses there but this time I wanted to stay smack on the beach and so I came up with the idea of Emeraude Plage, at St Jean. The advantage is that you never have to get into the car, if you don't want to. You live in a bathing suite. You hear and smell the sea breezes as you fall asleep at night, with all your windows wide open to that tonic air. You're swimming even before breakfast and you can say good night to the sea with your bare feet in the sand before getting into bed.

We were happy to find several Italians staying here as well who invited us to their private terrace on the beach a bit further along for champagne before lunch.

There's Gil making up our two sun loungers—and so the days went by.

Emeraude Plage enjoys the best bit of beach at St Jean. Everything to the left of that rope fence is private to its guests. Even now in mid season, with the hotel full, it felt as if we had the place to ourselves.

There's not much of a restaurant, just a charming woman from Santo Domingo who'll fix you breakfast if you don't want to bother making it in your bungalow (which comes with a tiny kitchen).

The reception bungalow was redecorated in 2006.

You can tell whoever did it had a bit of practice under his belt! That, below, is the designer's book. I'd never heard of them, but I'd driven past their stunning St Tropez home, pictured here on the cover, many times, wondering who was responsible for it.

Why We Don't Have Starbucks in Italy

2012-01-03T21:00:00.000+01:00

BAR GILLI, FLORENCE

As you can see, this coffee bar bears no resemblance to Starbucks. We're in Florence here, at Gilli, one of the most truly Italian, truly Florentine cafes imaginable. There's a handsome grandeur to it—Liberty style (the Italian version of Art Nouveau), but this is a bar that anyone can feel comfortable in.

When Starbucks was asked why they didn't have stores in Italy the answer was, "Italians aren't used to waiting more than 30 seconds for a cappuccino." This is true, but the better answer is more complicated than that. In Starbucks' nations an Italian coffee bar is a novelty. It's not truly part of American, or British or Swiss culture. It's a foreign concept, like a Thai restaurant. Here in Italy the coffee bar is daily life and always has been. There's nothing snobbish or pretentious about it—when American Republicans condemn liberal effete snobs they're apt to call them, derisively, "latte sippers." Here, even the most humble citizen can indulge in a caffe latte with impunity. The coffee bar is for everybody.

But it's true, Starbucks is not an Italian bar. The departure point was Italian but the end result is purely American. Even though they use Italian words to describe their coffees what is served is unmistakably American, from the taste of the coffee itself to the consistency of the foam of steamed milk. In the penultimate photograph you see the proper coffee cups lined up on the bar. No one here wants their coffee in a styrofoam or paper cup. And the size is important. It must be small. When it's small you taste the coffee. It must be of a temperature that's ready to drink—Italians won't stand there and stir their cup cool with a narrow plastic stick for ten minutes. Even a caffe latte is small—little more than twice the amount of milk of a cappuccino. The Starbucks item called a "venti" does not exist and Italians can't help but chuckle when they see it. This is the way it is here and nothing will change it. Starbucks is wise not to try to teach the fish how to swim

This is a nation of culturally established rules; Starbucks would have shattered each and every one of them. A friend was visiting from the US and he found the cappuccino too small. He learned the word for double, doppio, and came up with his solution to the problem. He ordered "Un doppio cappuccino con doppio caffe!" The barista couldn't imagine what in the world such a thing might be—how do you get all that into a coffee cup? must have been the question he asked himself. My friend was offended by the barista's half smile at such a request, and at the way he repeated Un doppio cappuccino con doppio caffe! when he finally served up his odd attempt at making the customer happy. Italians are not snooty, it's just that their habits are so ingrained. For them, there's only one way to make a cappuccino and if isn't big enough, you have another one.

A few closing tips: If you order a latte in an Italian bar you get a glass of milk. You must say caffe latte. If you want to sound like a local, when you order an espresso at an Italian bar say simply, "Un caffe!" Only foreigners say, "Un espresso!" Oh, and one more thing: cappuccino is only for breakfast, never at the end of a meal!

Delicacies of Lucca

2011-12-30T12:04:00.004+01:00

LE DELICATEZZA DI ISOLA ROBERTO

The Italian food shop is widely imitated. You can find things that look vaguely like this in many parts of the world. But this is the genuine article. That's Roberto Isola himself in a blur of action on this Friday before New Year's Eve when everybody's getting in the mood to ring in the new in the easiest most delicious way possible. That giant cheese is Italian, aged in berries from the wood.

He's a cheese lover and his cheese comes from everywhere—he even sells Stilton and English Cheddar; here in Lucca we're all used to nothing but the best, quality and variety.

This interesting-looking Dutch woman, carrying a silver-handled stick, seemed to know the lay of the land.

Grains and beans are displayed in bulk along with locally ground flours.

In his kitchen Roberto, who gets up a four in the morning, prepares the Lucchese "Tordelli," and such festive touches for New Year's Eve as insalata Russa.

I don't eat meat, but I can admire a well packaged product.

Canditi and the great local sweet bread with anis called buccellato.

There's everything you need for an intimate, celebratory evening at home, but if you don't see it out it's there in back somewhere beside the caviar.

It's said that during the war, when all of Europe was starving, Lucca was eating as if nothing had happened. It wasn't necessarily about being able to afford to eat, it was about will and creativity.

On Christmas Day

2011-12-25T19:09:00.004+01:00

MR. GILBERT MARK COHEN ON CHRISTMAS DAY

As we're off to Villa Orlando for a traditional Christmas lunch with our dear friends the Marchesa Luisella and Marchese Ludovico Orlando Gavotti ...

The Villa Orlando, just one of dozens of such houses here in the hills of Lucca, was originally built in 1700 by the Orsucci family. Having been enlarged in the mid to late eighteenth century, it took its present shape in 1781. The villa remained the property of the Orsuccis until 1836, when it was bought by Carolina Murat Bonaparte, the Queen of Naples. In 1840 the house passed to Baron Costantino Tossizza, then later to Pietro Zanardi. In 1899 it passed to the Orlando family, who own the villa today. History is everywhere here, and the interior is a splendid example of a glory long forgotten now lovingly preserved.

Seaside Winter Lunch

2011-12-20T11:13:00.004+01:00

RISTORANTE FORESTA

The winter Mediterranean has its charms, even in out of the way places like Marina di Pisa, a small and strangely forgotten little town at the mouth of the Arno river. The distant views are of the port of Livorno and here, in stormy weather, the open sea rips into the coastline with a harsh relentlessness. But things are quiet today under a dark gathering of clouds—it's a nice day for a lunch in a cosy and warm place like Foresta.

There's nothing extraordinarily stylish about it, in fact an odd old dowdiness prevails. But the view of the sea and the wonderful food are enough to bring us back often.

Such as this antipasto of stoccafisso alla Livornese.

Fried dough is a Sunday treat—it's like the days when mama was still in the kitchen from morning till night.

We ran into an old friend there, a Lucca wine producer, and he recommended this great Riesling fron the Italian Val Venosta.

An antipasto of mini sandwiches: scampi, salt cod and scallops.

A mixed seafood pasta.

Sea bream with local winter artichokes—sorry I ate most of it before I remembered to snap a picture.

And mama made these delicious almond Christmas cookies just before we arrived, how thoughtful!

Aphorisms for Christmas II

2011-12-16T10:32:00.002+01:00

MORE CHRISTMAS CRACKS

(All material in both this and the previous post is of my authorship)

As human beings go we're really all the same, it's just that some of us are a little dumpier than others.

Why colonize Mars when we have all the rogue states we need right here on Earth?

Navigable shallows are far more beckoning than uncharted depths.

Soon as you're willing to accept your current old age you're already older still.

Money's fun so long as it has nothing to do with economics.

"What am I doing back, I'd never had it so good!" —Neil Armstrong, July 1969.

Why put fools to shame when they're so good at doing it to themselves.

To every course of action there are positives and negatives, it's just that you have to look a lot harder for the former.

Sitting on the fence would be an easy way to avoid making decisions if it weren't for the internal injuries.

Friends are of absolute necessity, till they ask to borrow books.

Practice guarantees a very low return on the investment.

Ah, for the days when people took such pride in their work that even crime was committed in black tie.

You know you've had a lousy vacation when you need to rest for a week when you get home.

People who bring a lot to the table tend to eat more than everybody else.

When I was young I wanted all my friends to be brilliant and witty, but now that I'm old it's enough that their furniture is comfortable.

Consistency is the last refuge of a flip-flopper.

Golf is the game for people whose minds and bodies function with the internal mechanism of a cuckoo clock.

If you really want to get something done make sure your heart isn't in it.

A Christmas Cracker

2011-12-12T09:37:00.000+01:00

MY APHORISMS FOR THE HOLIDAYS

Clothes would do a lot for us if we weren't the only ones who took any notice.

Shoes might not make the man but his bare feet will ruin him.

The pleasures of travel are far too widely enjoyed.

Yesterday's gone till today rubs your nose in it.

Getting snubbed tends to launch you on a whirlwind social tour.

Those who believe that the world owes them a living need to seriously restructure their debts.

When you find yourself saying, "I can't quite put my finger on it," chances are there's nothing there.

There might once have been an art of conversation but even then it was considered a solitary act.

If I had a thousand lives to live perhaps one day I'd get it right.

Luxury's like a recreational drug, you're never quite sure if it's really come on.

De gustibus non disputandum est—till the object in question has left the room.

That which makes the world go round will one day bring it to a screeching halt.

Heaven on earth is great but you have to go through hell to get there.

Condemning our consumerist society is fine if you're a Tillandsia aeranthos (airplant).

Punctuality is the virtue of those who have very few appointments.

The successful are a bit like lottery winners though often less deserving.

From My Blog Roll: The Year's Best Posts

2011-12-07T19:45:00.001+01:00

Reggie Darling puts us all in our place in his inimitable Life-illustrated fashion with his post, Reggie's Top Ten (Little) Rules for Keeping It Together. Who of us doesn't need a shaking-up now and then? And from our own master of decorum and civility at that! This is the best of Reggie's lighthearted and thoroughly original work. Funny and stylish as any good blog post ought to be this one might even give us pause—did I really go around all day last Saturday unshaven?

A Country Farmhouse is one of the prettiest blogs there is, and this post, called Simple Pleasures, is pure elegance. Just a few luscious looking kiwis, some cut in half, some not: the browns, the golds, and that stunning mint acid green. These people know how to shoot pictures and they succeed time and time again in description of an enviable family life of light and happiness and beauty in the Pacific Northwest.

Lindaraxa could keep us eating well for the rest of our lives with all the fine recipes she sends our way—my favorite people are cooks; they offer up so much love, and it never ends at the edge of the plate. But in this handsomely illustrated post, called 20 Easy Tips for Slimming down and Eating Well, with the help of painter Fernando Botero, we get a few level-headed suggestions for keeping off those excess pounds. It's not science, nor the work of a professional nutritionist, it's just someone smart who cares in your life, and while I could never follow some of these rules in a million years (I live in Italy after all) I give them credit for being sensible and wise.

Architect Design is a treasure trove of fine and majestic buildings. The White House: East Wing was posted early in the new year and deserves another viewing now as Christmastime approaches. I've never toured the White House but this visit is almost as good: we get a look at its sumptuous Christmas decorations through the observing eyes of our blogger host. Obviously the White House has a pretty good budget for lights and ribbons and green but the talent involved is even more impressive. We should all be proud of the White House and the fine condition it's in thanks to a team of dedicated historians/conservationists and hard working staff. Maybe this year Architect Design will take us there to a state dinner!

The Downeast Dilettante strikes a certain special cord for me as I was born in Maine—though I only spent summers there after the fact. There are a number of blogs that hit my nostalgia button with images and stories about New England, one of the most beautiful parts of the United States, but this one explores the all-too-often lost grandeur of it all. This Garden was made in 1901 and Named Weld is one of Downeast Dilettante's best. Not a totally happy story (it ends with the demise of a lavish Massachusetts estate), the human interest of exceptional characters along with vivid illustrations make it a compelling read.

The Style Saloniste gets the attention of anyone who thinks about design and beauty, and its current offering is one of the best examples of what this blog offers. Dodie Rosekrans Treasures Go Under the Hammer is a fantastic tribute to, and post about, a unique American socialite, known here in Italy for her glamorous apartment in Venice, where for many years hers was the invitation to get. In this post Diane Dorrans Saeks offers up some wonderful photographs, including the portrait you see above, taken from an article Saeks did for C Magazine. It's an exciting auction—I'd love to have a piece from the collection!

The Corinthian Column is like a mystery book, or a fragment of a story you're not entitled to know the details of—or is it that you're meant to know only the details? It's a magical life shown here, of esthetics, of family history, of food and travel, of colliding worlds in broad experience. The Tea in China is one of dozens of very fine posts out of this blog in recent months but it appeals to me because I'm fascinated by China Trade paintings as well. The one above was sold at auction in Portsmouth, New Hampshire, my part of the world. I'm a bit envious of those who live in places that permit paintings like this to be hung—you can get away with it in Portsmouth, on the China trade route, or in a smart flat in Bangkok where this blog's creator lives. And so we go on reading, as bits and pieces of information fall gently into place in this curious puzzle of a life in the process of being very well-lived.

Joseph The Butler Recommends ... is another blog that's going to keep us on our toes. In this recent post on table settings he takes on Martha Steward for her sloppy inconsistencies as to where the knives and forks are supposed to go. I have to say the piece is just as funny as it is fussy. Notice, for instance, that the desert fork is pointing the wrong way in the above photo—the tines should be pointing right! Those who care about such things are in ever decreasing numbers but Martha still sells books, doesn't she? And Joseph has his readers, loyal and ever more mindful! (I can't forgive Martha for having potted plants on the dining table though.)

Contessa Nally is at the right place at the right time. A self-described "paparazza," she takes the best people pictures of anybody I know. This is an "in case you missed it" kind of blog, and its great appeal, in part, is the fact that most of us have missed it. Her wonderful series in early summer of the Venice Biennale is a tour of new art, events, rare moments, parties and most of all glamor. This post, one of many, Venice Biennale: Collateral Events - Big Bambu, gives us a look at the stuff this great art exhibit is made of. Nothing goes unnoticed, to Nally, such is her joie de vivre, but I might have watched that water taxi go by without having it occur to me for a minute that that was Courtney Love and Jefferson Hack putt-putting past—Courtney who?

Panettoni

2011-12-04T10:37:00.003+01:00

THE ITALIAN CHRISTMAS CAKE

I wonder how many panettoni get produced for Christmas in Italy. They're everywhere you look, in every shop and supermarket, in every bakery and bar. I found this one, with a very original brown and red treatment, at Eataly in Asti, Piemonte

The packaging is perhaps more intriguing than the contents—though I can't imagine a Christmas here without the taste of it on Christmas day. This one looks like it could have been designed by Giorgio Armani.

But doesn't red mean Christmas?

Signal orange and yellow is very festive, isn't it? But does it communicate Christmas to you?

This one is made with corn flour, and so it's yellow.

Here it is as a fine, very non-commercial, gift, wrapped in gold.

A chic one, you'd have to say! With cacao! The panettone is a great custom—it could only have been invented in Italy! If you were given a choice, as I was, that day walking around Asti, which pannetone would you have bought as a gift to your family and friends?

A Piemonte House Party

2011-11-28T18:38:00.001+01:00

A TRUFFLE WEEKEND

Readers of these pages might recall my post called "A Castle," in which I described a very warm and welcoming old castle in the foothills of the Alps to the east of Turin. This, above, is a view of it crowning the hilltop of Montemagno, the old stomping ground of Barbarossa. We, and several other friends of the Count Ascanio Calvi di Bergolo and his wife, Letizia, were invited for a truffle weekend—this is where they dig them up, after all!

The town of Montemagno is home to several lovely churches, which we passed on Saturday morning as a few of us took an eight kilometer long walk through the surrounding countryside.

You can see our home base, with its crenellated roof, peeking out at the upper left. It's a small town in the middle of nowhere but look at the extraordinary elegance of this 17th century architecture.

And off we go into the early morning sun.

Left to right: Paolo Rossi, Gil Cohen, Carolina Rossi, Ascanio and Letzia Calvi.

We passed this delightful little antique chapel, miles from any paved road.

The weather has been fantastic here throughout the whole month of November.

Later on we visited Asti and had lunch at Eataly. You might have heard of Eataly in New York, well the whole idea was born here in Piemonte. There's now an Eataly even in Tokyo and in several other Japanese cities! You're asked to feel that it's all very "affordable," as you sit down at your paper place mat to find an upside down paper cup (presumably for your imported Italian table water—imported in the case of faraway Eatalys that is). Left to right: Gil Cohen, Carolina Rossi, Ascanio Calvi, Daniela Blom, Letizia Calvi.

Sunday morning, back at the castle, the anticipated truffle pranzo.

Fresh tagliatelle, very eggy home made noodles.

The quick hand of our generous host slices his baseball-sized truffles with an antique truffle knife.

My serving. Perhaps it might sound elitist to say this, but (this is an elitist blog) until you've eaten the Piemonte white truffle a few steps from where they're found and only a day or so later you've never really eaten an Italian white truffle. Aren't I awful?

Private Gardens of Guatemala

2011-11-24T11:37:00.004+01:00

THE OLD CITY OF ANTIGUA

One of the loveliest old cities of central America Antigua is something of a garden destination. The whole city, for that matter, has the feel of a garden. The eighteenth century ruins of baroque style churches, toppled in the earthquake of 1717, which destroyed more than 3,000 buildings, now stand or lie in lush fern-lined public lawns, and wild orchids grow in the chiseled blocks of volcanic rock. Hidden in amongst these once imposing cathedrals and monasteries are stunning gardens surrounding palatial homes, like the one shown above.

Clivias are a welcome bloom in winter. Here in my temperate climate of Tuscany I have to keep them under cover in the colder months, but in the highlands of Guatemala they're very much in their element.

You don't need any green thumb to get things to grow here—your planting efforts are assured of success before you ever put trowel to earth. This is a winter scene, when the flowering of tropical plants is perhaps at its most generous.

The avocado originates in this part of the world. In this particular garden the forty foot tall avocado trees are so giving that there are far too many to eat. And they're enormous! Dogs eat them in the night.

Charming pots and bits of archeology are easy to come by here as are beautiful hand made materials to build with.

This interior courtyard takes the classic monastic form—that the inner parts are filled with Ophiopogon jaburan 'Vittatus' attests to the cool climate of high altitude tropics.

You see quite a few of these stuccoed fountains and raised planters in the gardens here, almost always colored that delicious shade of cherry red.

This antique fountain, from the golden era of the city when as central American capitals go it was rivaled only by Havana, has been recently placed in this private, residential garden.

This elegant weekend home was developed upon the footprint and ruins of an old convent, damaged in the earthquake.

But this classic structure, of the 17th century, is an earthquake survivor.

When Brunch is 4,000 Miles Away

2011-11-19T16:20:00.004+01:00

EGGS BENEDICT

for Julieta Cadenas

my favorite food blogger

There are no crumpets in Italy. You have to make them yourself. But it's not so difficult.

The hardest part is that you need crumpet rings—I just bought these at Peter Jones in London.

You put in the batter.

Seven minutes.

The cats are curious.

Our last bloody Marys of the season—if we don't make them with our own fresh tomatoes, then no.

My beauties.

Voila! Who needs South Beach!

Pescia and Lunch

2011-11-12T21:22:00.000+01:00

A FOODY SATURDAY

One of the things I love the most about living where I do is the diversity. You can get up on a Saturday morning and decide to drive half an hour and find yourself in a completely different world. Pescia, in that corridor of cities that lies between Pisa and Florence, is one of the least visited in our immediate surroundings. In fact, we couldn't remember if we'd ever roamed its narrow streets before. The restaurant shown above, Atman, is of the city's gastronomic attractions—we'll get back to it in a minute.

On Saturday morning, in the center of the old city, there's an old fashioned market where fruits and vegetables are sold in the charming atmosphere of this 16th century loggia.

With a minimum amount of culinary talent anybody could turn out a decent meal when these are the working ingredients.

Everything is local, even this prosciutto.

But we thought we'd put lunch in the hands of these serious cooks at Atman, just a few steps away from the piazza shown above. Here's Gil, ready for action!

Readers of my blog know that we don't really go in for haute cuisine but we do like the elegance such places propose. I admired this fine white linen and the elliptical bread plates, one black one white.

This was a spinach budino, like a light custard, with a dusting of bottarga on top.

A scampi salad. The little green patch on the right was an "iced" purée of broccoli, and the leaf thing is made of purple Peruvian potatoes.

This might appear to be a straightforward plate of shrimp and razor clam spaghetti, but it's not. The fresh egg pasta is briefly fried in oil first, giving it a slight crispness, then the fish stock is ladled in as needed to finish the cooking. The result is something beyond al dente! Superb!

Squid in tomato on a bed of very light fresh polenta with a dollop of savory tomato ice cream.

White chocolate mousse with chocolate dipped cereal.

Hazelnut in two ways, one mousse one ice cream, all flecked with silver.

A Narrow Garden in Italy

2011-11-06T17:11:00.000+01:00

A GARDEN WITH LAYERS

Just to the rear of this 17th century villa near Lucca the land climbs steeply up to high olive groves and woodland. There wasn't much room for a garden here when the house was built. The ingenious solution of a dramatic wide staircase made almost entirely of terracotta bricks has lent depth and volume to an otherwise dull, unpromising bit of ground. If it brings to mind Mayan ruins, whose pyramids propose a difficult climb to higher strata of spirituality, its stylistic inspiration is purely Greco Roman.

I was called in to offer my opinion as to whether or not one should add or subtract a layer of planting here or there. This parterre of grass framed out in brick was as it is now when the present owners acquired the property just a few years ago. One of the question was, should they take out the single, ill begotten camellia tree or leave it?

I suppose it really might look better without it. Do we like this touch of old narrative or should we turn the page on its long life once and for all? I wonder what my readers think.

I opted to do nothing. To me, it's perfect the way it is.

An Idea for a Lucca Holiday

2011-10-31T16:24:00.005+01:00

A TUSCAN IDYLL

Dreams of memorable holidays fill countless hours of our sleeping moments but we can recall only a fraction of them. When one of these dreams fortunately occurs moments before we awaken we savor its visuals forever, wondering if we'll ever get to live the reality of it all, hoping that one fine day we just might.

That dream might look a bit like this, steeped in a kind of peace so rarely found these days. You can still find it in Tuscany, though, in Lucca, in a small village called San Macario, at a charming and sumptuously realized converted farm house called Villa dell'Artista.

Its owners are an enormously talented couple of artists (of many media) who've considered every detail here—they've created it for themselves, but when they're not in residence it might just be all for you.

Endless sunshine, views, solitude, olive trees ...

fantastic meals, summer swims.

The elegantly simple garden is all about understatement—these sheep are not intruders, but are the work, in bronze, of artist Karen Wilberding Diefenbach.

A Visit from Point de Vue

2011-10-20T12:11:00.002+02:00

A TRIP FOR THE READERS OF A VERY SPECIAL WEEKLY

Point de Vue isn't very well known outside of Europe, but here it has a distinguished and devoted following. What at first glance seems to be just another slick gossipy review is in fact a magazine for "monarchists," if that's the word, for those who love Europe's noble heritage, who pine for the days when the king was still on his throne and who would reinstate our deposed royal families in a minute, albeit with a democratic constitution. It's a magazine with a somewhat intelligent content, if not particularly deep, and there's virtually no gossip in its pages of any kind. It features articles about culture, politics, history, but mostly about Europe's living nobles and royals, the births, the deaths, the weddings, the parties, the glamor. And why not? After all, these are the beautiful people—Hollywood doesn't even come close!

This autumn three groups of Point de Vue's passionate readers have had the pleasure of visiting the fine and historic gardens of Tuscany. This is the first group in the garden of Al Pastore, here at Villa Massei, about a week ago.

The trips were promoted in this fashion, with a full scale article proposing the itinerary prepared by Hortibus, a wonderful group travel company out of Paris.

And this is the second group yesterday, all very attractive and refined, holding up their copies of Un Giardino a Lucca, which they'd bought in our "pop-up" shop after the tour. Group 3 arrives on Sunday!

Mini-Gardens of Remberance

2011-10-17T18:40:00.004+02:00

A KLOSTERS CEMETRY

As the Day of the Dead approaches I thought I'd feature this charming graveyard beside a small church in Klosters, Switzerland, where the dead are honored with miniature gardens tended by the surviving.

Each plot is the same in size and the plants and flowers, all very Swiss in taste, tend to be colorful and gay. The cemetery makes it easy for its gardeners, furnishing watering cans and tools. It's like a patchwork quilt of remembrance, isn't it?

A Grand Canal Hotel

2011-10-05T15:25:00.003+02:00

PALAZZO STERN IN VENICE

There are many hotels on the Grand Canal in Venice, but Palazzo Stern is a rather small and pleasant one and it gets my recommendation. It's sort of chic, but not too, and the people are smiling and kind. Its great advantage is this wonderful terrace for a long leisurely breakfast.

The palace itself is magnificent, with whimsical Venetian decoration everywhere. It's from the 17th century.

This is the view from the water bus as you head off to Piazza S Marco.

Its neighbors are just as lucky. These are private homes gazing off into the morning sunshine.

Venice Contemporary

2011-10-02T20:38:00.000+02:00

THE BIENNALE

Now that it's October the Venice Biennale of contemporary art is relatively quiet compared to the spring when the opening ceremonies and parties attract art people from all over the world. It's not for first-time Venice visitors and you could all too easily dismiss it as having nothing to do with Venice in any way. But in fact the Biennale is yet another wonderful thing that contributes to making this great city what it is. The above pigeons perched on the roof hardware of the main pavilion are the work of the Italian artist Maurizio Cattelan; they are the real thing, life-size and taxidermied. Asked whether he’d shot the pigeons himself, he laughed and said, no that he’d got them from a theater supply company. It's a funny idea from an artist who a few years ago captured lots of attention with his stuffed real horse jumping through a wall at the Dogana.

I love the bookstores here—there are several. This is a display table holding hundreds of beautifully produced books about contemporary art, some well-thumbed by some of the most interesting visitors Venice receives.

This year's show is called "Illiminazioni." Organising the Venice Biennale’s headline exhibitions in the Palazzo delle Esposizioni and the Arsenale is the high point of most curators’ careers—and also one of the most exposing. Swiss art historian Bice Curiger, the curator of the Zurich Kunsthaus and co-founder of the art magazine Parkett, is only the third woman to be entrusted with this task and the sixth non-Italian. She has called her show “Illuminazioni”, and has invited 83 artists to take part.

One of the many reading rooms adjacent to the bookstore shown above.

The American pavilion featured works by Jennifer Allora and Guillermo Calzadilla, the young Puerto Rican duo. I'd read about their efforts quite a bit before coming here and I hadn't expected to like it. But I did. The pieces are bigger than merely clever—but I won't go into it here. This ATM is very amusing to say the least. When you make a withdrawal the organ plays.

And this upside down tank is also theirs. When the runner runs the wheels roll and the noise is enormous!

At the Korean pavilion artist Lee Yonbaek showed these mirrors. You hear a gun shot and the mirror is smashed by a bullet before your very eyes (all cleverly done by projection). Here's a double self portrait of Gil and me in the shot-up mirror.

A Gift from Prince Charles

2011-09-26T17:48:00.000+02:00

OUR WORLD IN THE EYES OF THE PRINCE OF WALES

Several years ago I had the great honor and pleasure of being invited to tea at Highgrove, country residence of the Prince of Wales. Ever since that visit to his garden, a private tour for just Gil and me led personally by His Royal Highness, we've remained in touch—it amazes me that with all the people in his world he has to consider he still takes the time to think of me. This morning an envelope arrived and this post is about its contents.

I recently wrote His Royal Highness that I'd enjoyed seeing his speech in Washington on sustainability and the looming global food crisis, which can be viewed in its entirety on the web if you click here. It was a short note of admiration for his efforts in this vital cause. This is the Prince's reply.

Prince Charles is famous for writing letters—I have a stack of them here on my desk. I think I saw a recent statistic that he sends literally thousands of personal letters a year. This is just one of them. He has a style that he adheres to. He dictates to a secretary, and later, when the finished letter is printed up, he rereads it, underlining words or phrases he wishes to reenforce, then signs it. At the beginning of our friendship he always called me Mr Gervais, but somewhere along the line he took to calling me simply Paul.

But what's of real interest here is the subject matter of the book itself. It opens with these lines: "This is a call to revolution. The Earth is under threat. It cannot cope with all that we demand of it. It is losing its balance and we humans are causing this to happen." You can buy the book here.

Monbiel: An Alpine Village

2011-09-22T16:42:00.000+02:00

MOUNTAIN PEACE

Not all the walks we take in Klosters lead to the highest altitude. Sometimes we're less ambitious and take a leisurely stroll along the brook that takes you to the charming village of Monbiel. If you're very fit you can go on. Here, in the words of the local tourist board, is the recommended route: From Monbiel you will hike up the Baretschrüti Forest and down to Schwendi. Continue over the Pardenner Boden to Restaurant Alphütte Garfiun. Enjoy Graubünden’s home-cooked cuisine and a magnificent view of the Vereina Valley. Subsequently, the tour continues through the Spärrer Forest, along the Verstanclabach (a stream) up to Alp Spärra and to the fork branching off to the Seetal Valley, Silvretta and Galtürtälli. Walk across a little bridge to the other side of the brook and hike on the other side of the valley across the Novai to the Vereinabach. Hike along this stream to Schindelboden and then across a bridge back to Monbiel.

But the town itself is charming—it's not a town at all, it's a hamlet. And yes, that water is potable.

This is a view of the walk we later took, towards Alprosli. And that, in the distance, is one of Switzerland's disappearing glaciers.

This little hotel is a dream for those looking for a more simple life in the alps. They also have a lovely restaurant. It's called Höhwald.

A table in the sunshine.

It's something of an artists' village.

Our Mountain Retreat

2011-09-20T18:07:00.001+02:00

THE CHESA GRISCHUNA HOTEL

We hadn't stayed in this charming hotel in years, having usually gone to the Walserhof instead, another lovely place with what used to be (and perhaps still is) a superb restaurant. But for old times' sake we thought we'd go back to this little old institution here in Klosters, which we'd always loved—I don't know why we ever left it.

The common rooms are old and have dark wood walls, which are warm and beautiful but difficult to photograph. This room in the newer bit has white walls and little windows with pretty framed views of the town.

This mural is modern but it's about the history of the hotel, which takes us back to the year 400. I have no doubt that we'll return next year for another delightful stay—the food is fantastic and the management and staff are friendly and kind!

Klosters to Davos: The High Road

2011-09-17T17:34:00.003+02:00

A MOUNTAIN RITUAL

Most Septembers Gil and I travel to the Swiss Alps to walk the mountain trails in the first chill of late summer, often staying in the charming resort town of Klosters, not far from Davos. The above image shows the high road walk from Gotschnagrat at 2,285 meters. Views like this are the glory of Switzerland—William F. Buckley once remarked, "it's one damn fine piece of real estate!"

This is the path we followed from the cable car landing—it's the easy bit.

Here's Gil not far from Parsennhutte—the walk to Davos takes about 3 hours.

Here's one of the fine musicians who contribute to the charming cow bell concert you're given along the way. These cute animals seem to have no fear of heights.

In late summer the weather changes by the minute, so you need to prepare yourself for the unexpected.

I'm not showing the scary part of the walk because I'm not so surefooted that I can pull out my camera when the drop away from my boots is straight down 1,000 meters.

Gardeners love to walk these mountain trails—Vita Sackville-West did it every September as well.

I don't know the names of these wildflowers, my apologies.

The Earth's Natural Treasures

2011-08-31T10:58:00.000+02:00

A FOSSIL OF A MUSEUM

Just beyond this elegantly rusted applique, personalized for the Liceo Machiavelli, the classics secondary school of Lucca founded by Elisa Buonaparte, is the Gabinetto di Storia Naturale, Lucca's diminutive, antique, natural history museum.

It's no longer open to the public, sadly, due to funding problems and the fact that the museum is contained within a public school where the traffic of visitors might disturb the very serious students—this is a preparatory school of the very highest standards. Above is an old photograph of a curator at work.

The museum was founded by the grand duke of Tuscany, Leopoldo II di Borbone, and opened its doors in 1857. Originally contained within the Lucca Ducal Palace, it eventually moved to its current location. This is a look at the museum's 16th century ceiling.

Nothing has been touched since its installation here in the mid-nineteenth century. This stand of study documents and illustrations is of the period. (Most of the floors are original except for the one in this first room.)

Many of the original hand-written notes and labels remain.

Of great local importance is this collection of marbles. Just as animals sometimes do, marbles become extinct—a sad thought!

The antique cases still have their original flawed glass.

And they're full of oddities—I'd never seen this shellfish before.

There's something very chic about the look of it all.

It's like the Deyrolle shop in Paris.

These study centers, with their saddle-shaped chairs, stand here and there about the museum. This one has been appropriated as a stand for a tortoise. This floor is original; it's done in terracotta bricks which were then stuccoed and painted "al tappeto," to resemble carpeting.

The collection includes a mummy from Thebes, found in 1820.

I love cats of any kind. This one was once wild here in Lucca but can no longer be found—is it extinct, or has it merely gone away to more hospitable shores? No one here to ask. My thanks to the Liceo Machiavelli for this private visit, and to Gil Cohen, who lends his teaching skills to the English department on a volunteer basis, for arranging it.

A Wedding Gift

2011-08-26T15:32:00.005+02:00

A SET OF ASIAN-STYLE POTS

My friends the Gambogi, whom I've spoken of many times here, are a talented couple of potters, and I asked them to collaborate with me in producing a unique wedding gift for a young couple from Madrid who will marry here in Lucca in September. I've always admired sets of three pots, the center one being a bit different from its companions to the left and right and so I gave them a small sketch of the forms that I like. The rest was up to them.

The insides are the same rather timely shade of green.

The pair of lidded pots are dotted with with little stuck-on balls of clay as if to create studs—this is a common feature of works out of this design house.

I don't believe this young couple follow my blog, but if they do and happen to see what they're getting I'm afraid they'll have to wait for the grand occasion.

On the Trail of Sergio Troncoso

2011-08-23T16:15:00.002+02:00

THE AUTHOR TOURS LUCCA

A labyrinth is an ancient symbol that relates to wholeness. It combines the imagery of the circle and the spiral into a meandering but purposeful path. It represents a journey to our own center and back again out into the world. Labyrinths have long been used as meditation and prayer tools and they are an archetype with which we can have a direct, deeply affecting experience. Walking the labyrinth can be considered an initiation in which one awakens the knowledge encoded within. Here is Sergio Troncoso standing in front of the famed labyrinth carving at the Duomo of San Martino, one of the world's most ancient surviving representations of the symbol. I truly hope that his visit to Lucca might have been the sort of journey described above. Troncoso was born of Mexican immigrants and was raised in El Paso. He now lives in New York where he writes in a "straightforward, light-handed style reminiscent of Grace Paley and Raymond Carver, spinning charming tales that reflect his experiences in two worlds." (Book jacket notes from The Last Tortilla & Other Stories.) This is a man who knows more than most about journeys.

The Last Tortilla and Other Stories won the Premio Aztlan and the Southwest Book Award. The Nature of Truth, his second book, is a novel about a Yale research student who discovers that his boss, a renowned professor, hides a Nazi past. The author graduated from Harvard College and studied international relations and philosophy at Yale University. He won a Fulbright scholarship to Mexico and was inducted into the Hispanic Scholarship Fund's Alumni Hall of Fame. His new book, From this Wicked Patch of Dust, to be published in September, explores a family’s conflicted desires: to honor the past that connected them closely to one another and to embrace the future that launches them toward separate destinies.

Also out next month is this intriguing collection of short non-fiction pieces, Crossing Borders. In this volume Troncoso takes the reader on an intensely personal look at the inner workings of his mind as he seeks his personal truth through reflection. He draws the reader into this labyrinthian journey through reflections on his own personal relationships: with his wife and her battle with cancer, his sons, his parents, his grandmother, his culture, with his Ivy-League colleagues and more.

It was a pleasure to have the Troncoso family (Sergio, Aaron, Isaac and wife Laura) in Lucca and I look forward to the release of these two fascinating new books by an intriguing author with a rare gift and a great sense of his own unique place in the American literary landscape. Check out his blog, http://chicolingo.blogspot.com/.

A Letter

2011-08-12T16:00:00.002+02:00

LITTLE AUGURY IN HARD COPY

A letter arrived from another place, as if from another time.

From Gaye Tapp—well we all know who that is, don't we?

A curious, cryptic card, manipulated and dressed, pasted and over-pasted, torn and trimmed, a message but an anti-message. A medium. A construct. A deconstruct. The inscription, like a title of a book, reads "On the Road to the Asylum." Am I to be driven crazy by this?

An envelope within the card within the envelope. I don't remember writing that note to myself! Am I mad yet?

William Morris, yes, of course. I seem to vaguely ...

And the sisters, mine? I don't recall any sisters ...

The suggested remedy.

The dreaded relapse!

A week at Keeley Institute, they've booked my room. Perfect rest, retirement and privacy. Yes. That'll be lovely. Thank you Little Augury, I've needed this break, but let's just keep the whole unfortunate incident to ourselves, shall we! I love you.

Tomato Tarte Tatin

2011-08-09T15:16:00.003+02:00

THIS IS NOT A FOOD BLOG

But so little is happening in these glorious summer hours. The best moments are celebrated with good food (like this tomato version of a classic French tarte tatin—needless to say, the tomatoes and sweet basil come from our own garden) and a few good friends to share it with. Sorry, I have little more to say just now—I'm busy at the swimming pool!

A Bite at the Beach

2011-08-02T22:45:00.002+02:00

FORTE DEI MARMI

The beach at Versilia is one of the longest and most popular of the Italian Riviera, and Forte dei Marmi, once summer home to the Italian royal family, is the jewel in its crown. For those looking for a crescent-shaped Mediterranean cove of calm and natural beauty this would hardly be the appropriate choice. It's a busy place with lots of attractions for both day and night and young people love it for its endless activities and the companionship of kids their own age they easily encounter. Gil and I rarely ever go there.

This is the view looking north towards Carara. There are none of the highrise developments you'd expect to see on the Costa Brava. But still, it's an atmosphere you either love or hate.

It's one bathing club after another and each one has literally hundreds of sun loungers and tents—this is no place to get away from it all!

The preferred mode of transportation is the bicycle. Here they are lined up in front of Orso Maggiore, today's luncheon destination.

From the roadside parking area little is given away as to what lies beyond this discreet contemporary entrance.

A restaurant on the beach that brings the beach in as if it were an enormous mural on the far wall!

There's a touch of New England to the blue and white simplicity.

And to the charming little American Bar.

But the rows of changing cabins along the side patio are typically Italian.

They make three kinds of bread daily in a wood oven.

And what could be more perfect for a summer's day than a warm seafood salad of scampi, octopus, shrimps, squid and vegetables!

An Iranian Villa and Garden

2011-07-29T11:37:00.003+02:00

PERSIAN STYLE

The Iranian city of Shiraz has a certain well-deserved renown for its gardens. Bagh-e Eram is one of the most charming country houses in Iran and if you have the courage you can visit it today, both inside and out, as it is now a national monument. Its distinctive architecture of hand-painted tiles and mirror-encrusted stalactites is unique. Once a private palace, built during the Qajar Dynasty, the lavish estate was constructed in the nineteenth century and combines typically Persian features with some Western, even Italianate notions of the country manor. In 1953, the Iranian government donated the mansion to the faculty of Law at the Pahlavi University of Iran.

Today it's a museum and impressive botanical garden—Bagh-e Eram means the "Garden of Paradise." The city of Shiraz is known as the city of rose gardens, nightingales and poets. Two of Iran's greatest ancient national poets, Hafez of Shiraz, and Saadi, are buried here. Saadi requested that the following verse be inscribed on his tomb: "From the tomb of Saadi, son of Shiraz - The perfume of love escapes - Thou shalt smell it still one thousand years after his death."

Hand painted tiles for an impressive mural above the villa's central loggia.

I admired the "total white" of the loggia interior.

The curious mix of cultural influences.

The extraordinary maiolica craftsmanship.

The style of black and buff colored stone.

The references to ancient Persepolis.

The corner pilasters.

The Persian canal.

The garden is now managed by the botany department of Shiraz University. Donald Newton Wilbur wrote in Persian Gardens and Pavilions, "The Bagh-i-Eram owes its continuing popularity to its groves of orange trees, its long axis of stately cypresses, and the impressive structure which has been the scene of Qashqai hospitality so freely offered to so many visitors. It is easy to imagine the earlier owners leaving the main pavilion and strolling down the water-lined avenue as far as the lower pavilion, where they rested from their exercise."

The Sculptor Entertains

2011-07-25T11:19:00.002+02:00

DINNER WITH DAPHNE DU BARRY

You might remember seeing my post on Luigi Boccherini, which featured my photographs of the handsome statue of the great composer by sculptor Daphné du Barry. Daphné and her husband Jean-Claude had us in to dinner last night at her splendid atelier in Pietrasanta, just over the hills from Lucca.

While by day the studio is full of light and live models and the joyous energy of the creative process by night it becomes this mysteriously beautiful backdrop for a small dinner party.

Her life-sized pieces are back-lit and under-lit creating this extraordinary ballet in bronze and terracotta.

Her models are local people who take great pride in posing for the master. That man in the background is Prince Rainier of Monaco, a copy of a statue commissioned by Prince Albert as a memorial to his father—the original now stands in the Monaco palace gardens.

It's a bohemian lifestyle where no two chairs match—one of them even broke out from under one of the guests, but he survived.

Her commissions are varied and take her all over the world. Often her subjects are religious figures but the pieces she does for her own collection sometimes involve sport.

They celebrate the human body in movement and in states of ecstasy or exaltation and are imbued with the enormous sense of commitment and love she brings to the discipline. To learn more about Daphné click here.

The Farm at Villa Massei

2011-07-21T08:36:00.000+02:00

A FARM THAT GREW ORGANICALLY

I doubt that there was ever much of a scheme in play when the agricultural needs of this estate were addressed, beginnning in the 16th century. They no doubt took into account the sunshine and shadow, and the flatness of fields, but when things were planted, they were simply planted as if the seeds had been dropped from the air by passing birds. Aesthetics were of little importance. And that's the way things are today. Why, for instance, is this little pumpkin patch under that old pear tree at the vineyard's edge?

We've attempted to correct the helter skelter of it all in our newer kitchen garden by building this grape arbor leading to it.

While back in the older vegetable patches there's little obvious planning ...

... in the newer kitchen garden a bit of rigor shows in the form of ordered rows of leeks.

The layout is geometric, and it's mostly respected—but not too much.

What's important is what makes its way to our table, like these beautiful eggplants ready for harvest.

And yet there's still a "behind the scenes" kind of attitude here. That's a quince tree shading a few young cuttings awaiting planting in the ornamental gardens.

It has a central avenue and side streets and a touch of whimsey here and there.

And several varieties of antique table grapes.

It's forever getting renewed, even in mid-summer—in a sunny climate like this we can grow several crops of almost everything in a single season.

Bottarga

2011-07-18T07:59:00.000+02:00

PRESSED DRIED MULLET ROE

On our recent trip to Sardegna this was a last minute airport acquisition, a wonderful, orangey bottarga.

Fresh bottarga caviar is a Mediterranean specialty made from sun-dried salted Mullet roe. In Spain it is called Botarga, in Greece Avgotaraho, in France Boutargue and here in Italy it is Bottarga. Whatever language you may use, you are sure of an exotic taste, a flavorful addition to pasta, fish and salads. Here I am grating it to a light egg yellow dust.

A chopped clove of garlic in olive oil is heated up in a pan.

When the spaghetti's done you throw it in and add the bottarga. Ladle in a bit of the pasta cooking water, toss, and in a moment you have a creamy sauce.

As a finishing touch, dust the spaghetti with a little more grated botarga, a pinch of salt and black pepper.

I pulled a French wine from the Ardeche that a friend gave me for my birthday.

A little chopped fresh parsley, which I grow near the kitchen door all year round. And there you have it. Spaghetti alla bottarga! A wonderful little lunch on a summer's day!

For Our Guests

2011-07-14T12:16:00.002+02:00

A LUCCHESE BEDROOM

We all want our guests to be comfortable. Whether or not they feel at home is a secondary concern. We want them to feel like they're in Lucca, on holiday.

This room faces the front of the villa and has views of the Apuan Alps above the Old Garden. The door above, which leads to the bathroom, once hung in the entry hall, but was removed by Lionel Fielden in the 1950s and reused elsewhere. It's from the period of Louis V—even in Italy these terms apply. The bed is Lucchese style; I saw one like it in a book and had it reinterpreted as a king-size bed. The table in the foreground is French Empire. The vase is an Etruscan reproduction.

The clock is French. The lamps are by Anna Lari. The engraving is Italian neoclassical.

The room had been made into two rooms in the era of Mr Fielden and when we took out the separating wall we discovered the chimney. All we needed to do was add the mantle, a neoclassical one that we found in the Lucca Antiques market.

The armadio and the arm chairs are Lucchese, from the early 1800s.

The bedspread is from Guatamala.

The bath is of "Rosa di Portogallo" marble.

Dans son jus

2011-07-11T20:30:00.003+02:00

THE SAVILE CLUB OF LONDON

We had the great pleasure of spending this past weekend at the distinguished Savile Club, on Brooke Street in Mayfair, as guests of one of its members. It was a journey back in time into the heart of the extraordinary phenomenon of London's private clubs of old.

This is the ballroom; it's grand entrance is shown in the first picture. It might look like 18th century France, but it's in fact from the 1890s.

French interiors had been popular in London since their introduction to Apsley House in the 1830's but few examples were constructed with the architectural rigour and exquisite craftsmanship which we find here. The 1760's and 70's saw a gradual taming of the florid style which had been popular under Louis XV, and it was to this rich transitional period that Van der Boyer made scholarly reference in his impeccable designs. The interiors which the Savile has enjoyed for so long are perhaps the most extensive and exquisite of their type to survive in London.

While membership remained varied the Club established itself at the heart of literary London having gathered Robert Louis Stevenson, Thomas Hardy, HG Wells, Rudyard Kipling, Compton Mackenzie, Max Beerbohm and WB Yeats amongst others, around the Club table. Music was represented with equal lustre over the years by Charles Villers Stamford, Arthur Bliss, William Walton and Edward Elgar and our scientist members have included Lord Kelvin, John Cockcroft and Lord Rutherford.

The above two photographs are of the tiny and welcoming club library on the third floor.

Club luncheons are often held in this grand dining room. When electing members the Savile has always been less concerned by what a candidate does, or by who he is, than by what kind of a person he is as a man, and whether he will fit congenially into the “Sodalitas”of the club.

This is the reception hall. The staircase behind it leads to the lavish dining rooms which resound with the banter and laughter of club members.

A Great Restaurant by the Sea

2011-07-06T10:38:00.001+02:00

ITALIAN SEAFOOD AT ITS FINEST

You could almost say that this is my favorite restaurant period! It's La Pinetta, in Marina di Bibbona, about an hour's drive south of Lucca. The master chef shown above, Luciano Zazzeri, is the also owner of this extraordinary place that specializes in fish caught by Luciano's fisherman brother.

This is the view as you lunch, here in the sunny heat of summer.

This carta di musica, a paper-thin bread made by the chef, greets you when you take your place at the table in this charming wooden shack on the beach.

You might choose a local lobster, fished just off close-in islands.

You needn't ask for this tasty teaser of deep fried monkfish.

Baby octopus need only a light steaming and a drizzle of olive oil—that's what real Italian food is all about: total simplicity and the freshest ingredients.

Tagliatelle with sea urchin sauce—divine!

Our lobster in the manner of the chef, roasted with a few mini summer tomatoes and garnished with a leaf of basil.

A caramelized lemon tart!

A few post-deserts to finish off.

A walk on the beach to digest! Air 84°, water temperature 79°.

A Villa Rescue

2011-07-01T09:19:00.002+02:00

A HOUSE STAYS IN THE FAMILY

I remember that it was love at first sight for me seeing the façade of this villa. That was more than twenty-five years ago, however, and in that long length of time the villa had suffered an inevitable period of neglect and deterioration. It is now in the hands of my old friend Diana's daughter who's taken up a plan of restoration that is both ambitious and exact.

The painting on the front was from the late 19th century and it was badly sun-damaged and weather-worn. This is a faithful repainting in the original colors and with only minor changes to the scheme.

I've recently shown other Lucca lemon houses and this is a wonderful, simple example of a winter storage building for potted lemon trees.

In time the two left windows were filled in so as to make a garage for farm equipment.

This is a look at the garage end now, with old summer chairs broken and rusted—it's a building full of atmosphere!

Behind the villa stands this charming well, covered with wisteria—not yet in leaf when I took these pictures in the spring.

I admired its simple decoration.

The stone lions (the symbol of Lucca) on the villa's main staircase are windblown to a vague roundness. We all anxiously await the finished product.

An Invitation to Lunch

2011-06-27T11:03:00.000+02:00

LUCCA STYLE

This is the home of our dear friends Henk and Daniela Blom. There are many such old houses in Lucca, dotted about the hills and facing the ancient city from a stunning vantage point. It's a 17th villa, for the most part, though bits of the house might be even older. This little grotto welcomes you as you arrive in the courtyard, which is a level below the house and main garden.

The garden was originally created by garden designer Francesca Marzotto but the very talented Daniela Sprea Blom has lent the scene her romantic touch, such as this delightful conversation corner under an antique magnolia grandiflora tree, here in bloom

Most of these old villas have what is called a limonaia, a pavilion where potted lemon trees are stored in winter. They always face south and feature these tall windows with shutters, or glass, that open and close as needed—it's enough in this climate that the lemons get sunlight in the coldest months, no heating is required.

The classic gardens in front of lemon houses are where the potted lemons stand in the milder months. An architectural note: an appendage was added to the rear façade of the villa in the 20th century to create a balcony and bathrooms for bedrooms on the upper levels.

These gardens are usually very simple in style, but Francesca Marzotto has added hemerocallis (day lilies, not yet in flower) for summer color and interest.

History is everywhere here, in every old basin, here filled with Nelumbo nucifera—it's the garden's foundation.

This handsome and original fountain fills the rear garden. There are jets of water that play their splashing sounds as you dine nearby on a summer's evening.

This is the scene of Daniela's lunch the other day. Total beauty and pleasure!

Sorting Out the Beach Clubs of St Tropez

2011-06-24T10:07:00.000+02:00

THE OLD ST TROPEZ IS STILL FOR US

We've been coming to the same old beach club for more than thirty years. It's called Aqua Club, but it's not a true club at all. You needn't be a member to go there, nor do you need to know a member to get in. You just show up and pay; the pleasure is then yours for the taking.

Concessions such as this are uniquely European.

You're on the beach, but you have all the services you need to have the best time. You arrive and take a lounge chair at the water's edge. It has a comfortable cushion and a parasol overhead, the necessities you didn't have to haul yourself from the parking lot hundreds of yards away. If you want a drink, they bring it to you, coffee, a cocktail, a bottle of spring water in an ice bucket. At lunch time, usually around 1:30 PM, you take those ten steps back to the terrace, which is in fact a proper restaurant with a menu that changes every day. You dine barefoot in your bathing suit. Fresh grilled fish, rosé wine, their famous chocolate tarte, all enjoyed just a short stroll away from the water's edge and with a stunning view of the glistening sea.

Certainly, if you want to do the day up in style there are other clubs along the beach. Les Palmiers is one we'd never choose in a million years. It's right next door to Aqua Club but it's another world. The servers dress as white pirates, look down upon you and are aggressively dismissive of those whom they feel do not measure up to their standards. It's like the old Studio 54 on the beach! While at Aqua Club you pay once, at the end of the day, because they know and trust you, here you must pay cash for each service taken: 30€ for a lounge chair, 8€ for a parasol, etc. When they bring you a drink you have to pay in cash upon receipt.

I have nothing against its design concept; I suppose it's chic. Perhaps they want you to think you're on a $200,000 per week yacht and not at all on the beach.

Every day it fills up with those adrift in a world of overrated pleasures who arrive by water taxi to this safe, imagination-free haven from their enormous yachts anchored just offshore. By noon the disco music can be heard all the way to Corsica. You dine on white tablecloths that fall to the teak floor and drink from high stemmed crystal goblets—it all looks to me like a wedding I'd never be invited to (thank God).

Give me my old Aqua Club any day.

A Little Hotel with Panache

2011-06-20T19:21:00.003+02:00

LE PRE DE MER, ST TROPEZ

Hotels such as these come out better when the owner is also the architect or designer. In the case of Le Pre de Mer in St Tropez the couple who created the place are both, he's an architect and she's a talented interior designer. I would dare say that here we have a relationship that functions rather well.

This odd and charming piece of furniture was created just for the project (even if it ends up between the beams). I very much liked this credenza, which looks like an assembly of elements that ordinarily wouldn't happily live together.

There are no surprises in this group of decorative objects, we've seen such chic touches before, but it's the work of a skillful decorator nonetheless and it all invites the eye to delightfully roam.

The sitting room, where breakfast is served in the cooler months, plays with scale and a clever solution to use of space in which you have two conversation areas back to back.

Rustic elements add a natural touch, bringing a bit of the outside in.

The owners bought an existing hotel, which had apparently been done in a Spanish/Provence theme, and made it refreshingly new without changing the original style.

River stones cover a wall in the garden where there's a wooden door, somewhat Asian inspired.

Birch wreaths bring "bio" to the composition.

An oversized chair in the reception room lends an element of whimsey to the clean geometry of the scheme. This is a lovely hotel with cordial service just outside the town of St Tropez. If it had a sea view, or if the rooms had more garden to enjoy, people like me wouldn't be able to afford to stay here. But if you're like us you might opt for something like this over throwing money away. It's stylish and all new, and that means comfort!

Me on the Beach

2011-06-19T17:55:00.005+02:00

ST TROPEZ HAS ITS APPEAL

For us its just four hours away by car, and that's not bad. And the beach is a dream, as you can see by the above photo. A perfect 72 degree water temperature and clear as crystal on this early summer day.

You can stay in forever under this bright St Tropez sunshine.

You must understand that I hadn't left the hotel in this outfit—I'd had on white Bermudas. I felt I'd had enough sun, and this was the shirt. Forgive me.

But some in certain fashion worlds might have thought it intentional.

Luckily we weren't at the smartest of beach clubs.

We were at Aqua Club—more on this later!

The Yacht Club Costa Smeralda

2011-06-16T09:00:00.000+02:00

A LANDMARK RESTYLE

I suppose the old (1970s) Yacht Club Costa Smeralda at Porto Cervo was in welcome need of a serious makeover in 2003 when it was expanded and redecorated by Peter Marino, the famed New York designer known for his Chanel boutiques. It's more than a little unusual for an Italian institution such as this to go to the States for style—after all, some of the best designers in the world are Italian. But perhaps a yacht club might require that American touch, evocative of the Hamptons, or Newport, Cape Cod, or Bar Harbor, yachting venues that have become synonymous with the "look" of the sport.

It's to the great credit of the Club's direction that they felt this need to be international—it could all so easily have failed with a generic Milan high style that had little to do with what a club like this is all about. This fine boutique, for example, in the club's lobby, is state of the art "class," as opposed to state of the art "bravura."

The pallet, the modern classic armchairs, the teak, the mahogany, the blue casual cushions with an embroidered club logo, all of these thing Marino got right.

I very much admired this impressive arts and crafts style staircase and the sailing collectibles exhibited club style.

This extraordinary center table is made from the saved bits of a decommissioned 18th century ship. The floor, in hand made tiles, employes a simplified version of the club's flag as a geometrical motif.

I can't help but think that the marine paintings were already on the premises before Marino arrived—they're not quite up to all the rest, I feel.

This is an American Bar if ever there was one. Only problem is, Italians are not bar people. If this were in Newport all these chairs would have been occupied by members chowing down on hamburgers, fries and beer, watching the football game on a wall-mounted TV above the bottles in the back (there was no TV here, I'm happy to say). Italians don't "drink." Of course they consume great quantities of wine over meals but sitting at a bar with a cocktail, as we Americans do, they'd be fish out of water.

Someone recently remarked that I never show people in this blog. Well here goes: l. to r., Gil Cohen, Henk Blom, Isabella and Giorgio Vincenzini, our hosts at the Yacht Club, and Daniela Blom.

Porto Cervo

2011-06-11T16:58:00.000+02:00

A VILLAGE MADE TO MEASURE

It's the product of a dream and not at all the result of natural occurrences, a gradual accumulation of population and increase in activity. This is a town of tone and luxury, as witnessed by the elegant waiters on their way to work. What happens here, in the homes and shops and restaurants and hotels, bears little resemblance to daily life as most of us know it. This, after all, is Porto Cervo!

The streets are paved, if not with gold then with fine materials most communities can't afford. On the upper floors are residential flats while on the ground floors we find Prada, Hermes and such curiosities as "The Billionaire," the new men's clothing line by Fabio Briatore, of all things!

The harbor is perfect for mid-sized yachts—the big ones go to the Yacht Club one bay further along.

Handsome sailing yachts like this one—this is for me!

And there are the expected sea-view condominiums where the only allowed color is the magenta of bougainvillea.

With views behind you and in front of you, they're worth a high price.

The natural landscape is preserved by decree—no palm trees are permitted, no cypresses that might bring to mind the Italian mainland.

And on this rainy day in June in the town's main square the umbrellas are closed but everything's ready—and so where are all the people? The local newspaper that morning was complaining about the lack of reservations in the Costa Smeralda's famed hotels, wondering if the island as a holiday haven had lost its appeal.

It appealed enough to Gil (in his paper hat).

A Legendary Hotel

2011-06-07T12:01:00.001+02:00

THE AGA KHAN'S DREAM

The Costa Smeralda of Sardinia was a desolate piece of coastline in the 1950s when Karim Aga Khan decided to create his playground for the rich and privileged, a glorious new alternative to the South of France. He owned it all, more than 10,000 acres including 50 kilometers of coastline, of bays and beaches and dramatic rock formations, a no man's land full of promise and endless possibility. In 1963 the Calle di Volpe Hotel, one of the first of the region's resorts, opened to international acclaim as a model of sensitive planning, respectful of it cultural context. With this, the Cosa Smeralda was launched as the world's new glamor rendezvous.

And so here we are nearly 50 years later. Gil and I had been invited to a party at a horse breeding farm in the interior to join more than 300 invited guests for a "barn party." The rain put a damper on the fun of it, I'm afraid, but that's another story, 300 of us dining outdoors on a double tennis court with napkins over our heads looking like Sardinian country ladies over their embroidery. For the next couple of days here we dodged the raindrops but stayed dry enough to stop by the Calle di Volpe and have a look.

You could compare the Aga Khan's development to a few other dream projects, Port Grimaud near St Tropez, for instance, Palm Beach, Florida, or even Poundbury, a town in the Duchy of Cornwall created by Prince Charles. But this development is far bigger in scale than any of those; by now it includes dozens of hotels and resorts, golf clubs, yacht clubs, several villages and countless developments of summer residences.

This is how the hotel sits on its bay as seen from a hillside above. The idea was to make it all look as if it had always been there. An inspiration for this sprawling complex might have been an interior convent where bits and additions had been added as needed over time, each one treated in a slightly different way as to color and scale and according to need.

We're getting towards sunset here. There's a little boat dock at the hotel, and in the background lies the massive swimming pool with its lunch and breakfast dining room covered by a pergola beside it.

You understand right away that this is not authentic—compare it, if you like, to my post on Portofino a week or so ago. An architect dreamed this up: Giancarlo Busiri Vici, to be precise. The idea was to be at once traditional and modern, a challenging order for a young designer just out of the university. In many ways, he got it right—couldn't you compare the volumes of this building to some of Frank Gehry's recent creations?

This rustic pier curving out into the bay was surely inspired by one the designers had seen in the region.

And as for the modernism element you can trace its origin in time. There's a dose of Miro here, of the same post war Mediterranean style that swept the South of France in the 1950s. Perhaps it's all simply "dated," but I think it would be wrong to dismiss it somehow failed. It's still a luxurious resort hotel with more than a small amount of charm. Be it your style or not you can't look anywhere without appreciating the designers' vision, which is so well preserved here—I hope forever!

A Garden in Chianti

2011-06-02T08:40:00.004+02:00

VILLA TORSELLI IS REBORN

I hadn't heard of this garden before reading a story about it in the same book in which we too appear, Italy's Private Gardens by Helena Attlee. When Helena recently arrived with thirty British garden lovers for a tour of Villa Massei I asked one of them which garden of the tour had impressed her most. Her answer was Poggio Torselli.

And so I called the villa right away and asked if Gil and I could come and take a look. The enormously charming owner, Gianfranco Luzzetti, well known as an antiques dealer in Florence, said that a twenty visitor minimum was required, but because we were in the same lovely book together he'd make an exception and personally show us the garden.

The villa was constructed by order of the Machiavelli family in the 15th century, and in the course of centuries has had various owners. The garden was planted towards the end of the 17th century, and still today presents various characteristic elements, including dwarf fruit trees, old roses, aromatic herbs and a collection of potted citrus trees. But these have all been reintroduced, replanted and restyled by the owner in collaboration with garden designer Ada Segre. An excellent job of garden restoration to say the least.

The garden in front of the villa could be described as neo-romantic. You have the sense that it's from the late 18th century, the period in which classic Italian gardens of centuries before were raised in favor of the new, naturalistic style first created by the English, which featured curves and specimen trees.

But the valley-facing garden has been recently replanted in a more Renaissance style, albeit with the introduction of decorative floral elements that might not have been found in the gardens of that period.

Literally none of this garden was in viable condition when Luzzetti bought the house fifteen years ago.

He wanted abundance of everything, pots, plants, flowers!

Every color, every type.

It adds a modern twist to the classic simplicity of long ago.

Here, the views of the Chianti countryside are unspoiled and stunning.

Even the fountain, though you could be easily fooled, is new.

You can visit the garden and taste their fine Chianti Classico wines by getting in touch with them here.

Poolside Lunch

2011-05-29T09:00:00.000+02:00

PARTIES IN THE SUN

When summer comes upon us we love to entertain by the pool, a swim and lunch for a few friends, never more than six of us. The apricots are the first of the season. The tablecloth is from Antigua, Guatemala.

The scene is this, sunbathing for those who want it, a swim to cool you off. Our pool is almost 30 years old!

A lunch under the pergola.

And while you eat the view is this.

A salad Gil made, lettuce, rucola and nasturtiums.

A few fine cheeses, all Italian.

A fritata of herbs from the fields, made by Ottavia, garnished with borage flowers.

Anchovies on a bed of lettuce with red peppercorns and spring onions.

Zucchini from the garden fried and tossed in basil and vinegar, local tomatoes (but it's a little early for our own) with coriander and chopped spring onion.

Portofino Pause

2011-05-25T21:20:00.001+02:00

OLD FAMILIAR PLACES

I couldn't remember how long it had been since we'd been to Portofino. Was it ten years? We'd been invited to Piemonte for a lunch with the board members of the Isabella Steward Gardner Museum of Boston at the Calvi di Bergolo castle in Montemagno that I once posted here.

Half way home lies this magnificent coastal area of Liguria, the most famous town of which is Portofino, and we decided to stop there for a night.

We stayed at the Splendido Mare, which is visible in this photograph, the group of narrow buildings on the far left. Notice here the fine white sea taxi waiting for a fare to Santa Margarita.

Little has changed in Portofino since our last visit all those years ago; if gives you a certain sense of hope and confidence that the best of the planet is still intact and ready for the next generation of honeymooners—I noticed several.

The charming narrow houses along the port, painted up in the Ligurian manner, the small cafes, the quite, the seaside smells.

The bobbing boats—I'm not showing you the yacht "Majestic," a 1,000 meter tub of tasteless belching plastic docked further out on the quay, all that volume for a handful of fudge fund fatties from New York.

It's nice to have a drink at Jolly before dinner and overhear the delighted visitors' conversations and wonder who they are and how they got here!

And to dine at Puny, the best-know restaurant in town—it's where the local people prefer to go.

Their spaghetti with anchovies, arucola and garlic is divine.

The thinly sliced fish is called ombrina and it melts in the mouth. The stuff on the left is octopus cooked with artichokes. Sorry it's half eaten, I got carried away.

These wonderful boats are called paraggina. Construction of these elegant wooden launches, between 6.60 and 7.48 metres long, began in 1982 on the initiative of Giorgio Mussini, a true Portofino native born in 1939 and son of a skipper. At the age of ten he was already taking tourists out on boat trips to swim between San Fruttuoso and Paraggi. Now over 110 of the yard’s boats are on the water. If I lived here I would surely have one.

Villa San Martinello; Fit for a Marquis

2011-05-22T09:05:00.001+02:00

EIGHTEENTH CENTURY GRANDEUR

A villa from the 18th century seems almost new to those of us who live in Lucca—my own house was nearly two-hundred and fifty years old when this villa was built near the city of Perugia in central Italy.

San Martinello stands upon the ruins of a medieval castle, destroyed during the 1540 “salt war;” its foundation was used for the “secret” garden of the villa, which you'll see further along in this post. Work began on the villa, the country residence of the counts Donini, in 1730, under the direction of architect Pietro Carattoli. Lodovico Woodland Alfani and his wife Ilka von Saucken spent more than ten years and a great fortune repairing damages from the war and now the villa is in fine shape. It's the present day home of Paolo and Clara Caucci von Saucken.

In front of the villa is this curious labyrinth, fashioned of brick and mortar. The paths are formed with an almost ground level structure so that you can see all the route's twists and turns to the center before you ever enter it: a mysterious journey mostly for the eyes!

Perhaps it had once been fashioned of low dwarf box that had died off and it was believed that this would need less maintenance. I should have asked.

The so called "secret garden" is classic renaissance in style, elegant in its simplicity yet imposing in its scale. I admired the placement of the four oil jars. It's a garden of total equilibrium.

A magnificent pergola of wisteria, not yet in flower here a few weeks ago when I visited the villa, runs along one entire side of the garden.

The valley-facing facade is finished with this magnificent terrace with a grandiose retaining wall that includes a pair of curving staircases descending to the farmlands below.

We're standing on the terrace here looking towards this impressive regal gate beyond which are the stables and courtyard. This combination of ochre rendering and pale red brick is exceptionally pleasing to the eye. Could you see yourselves living in such a place?

A Few Roses

2011-05-18T15:36:00.003+02:00

THE BIGGEST REWARD OF SPRING

You wait all year for something that happens only once, and yet, if it happened more than once would it have the same value? We don't hesitate to choose antique roses here at Villa Massei, even though they never reflower. This is the case with Claire Jacquier, a noisette rose chosen for its considerable prowess as a climber. Bred in 1889 its flowers are shapely, of a rich egg-yellow color turning to pale yellow as they age, and they fill the air with a rich perfume.

It's a walk of rose scent. It envelops you, fixing the moment in your memory so that it lasts all year long till you get to enjoy it again the following year. If there's any one period of the year to visit my garden then it's now—it's like Barnsley House when the laburnum and alliums were both in flower, an event I had the great fortune to experience twice.

But we have hundreds of roses here, almost all of which are antique. This one, however, is obviously not. Pierre de Ronsard, the rose, was hybridized by Marie-Louise Meilland from the Family owned French rose company Meilland Roses in 1987. In the UK the rose is mostly known as Eden Rose but it was named Pierre de Ronsard after the great French poet. In America the rose is often called Eden Rose Climber. Some rose lovers actually detest it, thinking it fake-looking, too perfect, but I must say that its obvious beauty seduces me every time I come across it, which is frequently as it's enormously popular by now.

It looks top-dipped!

Chapeau de Napoleon is a moss rose from 1827, so named because the unopened buds resemble Napoleon's hat!

Of white roses I love the ultimate purity of Frau Karl Druschki, created in 1901. For many years this was the most popular white rose in existence, in spite of the lack of scent. The pure white flowers are large and globular, opening from high-pointed buds, and are lovely both on the bush and in a bouquet. Over the years this rose has been known by several descriptive names, including 'Snow Queen' and 'White American Beauty.'

Our rose garden just off the kitchen is a treasure trove of bloom right now. In the back are two English Roses by David Austin, Gertrude Jekyll and Graham Thomas, and in front are several antique roses including Duchess d'Auerstadt, Maiden's Blush and M.me Hardy.

A Not-So-Tuscan Restaurant

2011-05-15T16:38:00.002+02:00

LUCCA'S SERENDEPICO

This photograph, for me, seems to sum up what this new restaurant in the hills of Lucca is all about: it's like a classic Tuscan country chair that's been given a contemporary twist.

We've made several visits since "discovering" it a few months ago, and every time we sing its praises on the way home. It's a modest enough place, casual in fact and relaxed, but it's high on quality that expresses itself in every whimsical detail. All the chairs are wrapped like this in various colored string as you can see—it was an afternoon activity for Serendepico's talented 23-year-old chef Damiano Donati and his girlfriend, capo sala Chiara Bertoneri—they're full of fun ideas and drive!

Damiano's bread is all about the gastronomic nostalgia of lost ingredients. Not only is his yeast his own—his yoghurt or grape-derived "mother" is more than a year old—but he uses locally grown flour. The bread on the right is made with spelt and whole wheat flour while the one on the left is of potato flour. His grissini (bread sticks) are infused with curcuma (tumeric) then tossed in corn flower before baking.

These little teasers arrive first: shiso and salt cod purée in a tempura ball.

Deep, generously stuffed ravioli of Asiago cheese and fresh thyme, topped with a smoky tasting "caviar" of eggplant.

Spaghettoni in a reduction of mussels, dusted with a grating of oven-dried mussels, prepared by the chef himself.

Damiano's the one in white!

Relais del Lago, its host establishment, is a charming "bed and breakfast" in the hills of Gragnano, fifteen minutes from the ancient walls of Lucca. It's a wonderful little place to stay for a Lucchese holiday: a family home, in every way, and with a stunning pool with views off to the Pisan hills. But what makes it a true "destination" is the extraordinary restaurant Serendepico through that last arched door in the distance.

A Villa with an Older Garden

2011-05-11T11:20:00.002+02:00

MAINTAINING THE ITALIAN PATRIMONY

People who follow my blog might get the mistaken impression that Italy is a land of perfection, where all gardens are well tended and where all important monuments are held safe for generations to come. When great properties fall into public hands here in Italy they're placed in competition for survival with the entire patrimony of a nation with the world's largest concentration of fine art and historic landmarks. In England the National Trust has had great success with keeping up its great gardens, but not so here in Italy, alas.

Take Villa Fidelia, for instance. These baroque gardens and the 19th century villa in its midst, now belong to the city of Spello, in Umbria. The property was first developed by the Urbani family in the late 15th century or early 16th, though there had once been a Roman temple on the site. Now it's used for municipal functions.

This house is from the 19th century and though it's quite grand and imposing on its hillside near Spello it's not a villa of great distinction.

It was Donna Teresa Pamphili Grillo who built the Italian gardens here in the mid 18th century adjacent to the house that the one above replaced. This very long giardino al'Italiana boasts a classic layout in an architectural support of very good bones, if not exceptional. On the day we visited, about a month ago, with 30 French garden owners, this is what we saw: a garden on the verge of disappearance.

One valiant gardener pushed a lawnmower through the high grass in a heroic attempt to beat back the mounting destruction but to meet this effort with the right manpower and materials one would have to spend an enormous amount of money. The city of Spello doesn't have it, apparently, or of they do then it's been allocated elsewhere. I hate to end this post on a sad note, and so I won't. There is great beauty here even in the garden's decay, wouldn't you say?

Monsters in the Garden?

2011-05-08T08:51:00.001+02:00

BOMARZO, THE SCULPTURE GARDEN

The charming village of Bomarzo, just north of Viterbo, looks over "The Park of Monsters," a sculpture garden created by the architect Pirro Ligorio, who completed the Cathedral of Saint Peter in Rome after the death of Michelangelo and built Villa d'Este in Tivoli. Prince Pier Francesco Orsini (1523-1585), called Vicino, commissioned the project to help mend his broken heart broken after the death of is wife Giulia Farnese (+1560).

The entry gate seems like a modern day recreated fantasy and yet it's authentic. The park was created in 1552 as "Villa of Wonders" to be the only one of it's kind in the world. Over the years it had fallen into disrepair till 1954 when it was bought by Giovanni Bettini who with loving care brought the garden back to life.

In the "Villa of Wonders" there is a "posthumous" Temple. It was build about 20 years later to honor the memory of Vicino Orsini's second wife. The statue in the foreground is of Proserpina, who stands with open arms and a sweet juvenile face.

There's an oddly exotic feeling to the place. I took this picture of a side gate because it brought to mind a gate I had seen in Iran that had two pairs of fruit trees leading to it in just this way—the four trees above are Judas trees. I used the idea to embellish the Umbraculum at Villa Massei—you can see it here.

This is the classic ogre of stories told on dark stormy nights, the ogre who eats children: the big (human?) head with wide open eyes in a moment of loud screaming, not of terror but terrorizing.

One of the best pieces in the park is the armored elephant that Hannibal used to devastate the Roman legions: here it is carrying along the unconscious body of a legionnaire.

This is Ceres, the Goddess patron of Rome.

Neptune, and in his hands is a small dolphin. To the right is a big open mouthed dolphin. This scene held something of the atmosphere, for me, of the great Buddhist temples of Southeast Asia.

"The Leaning House," as it's called, is fun to enter. I'd never known how disorienting it can be to step into a room with a raked floor—there are lots of recent uses of this concept in new architecture, from Liebeskind to Zaha Hadid.

Finally, we have reached the Ninfeo with the three graces embracing.

Cherries

2011-05-06T08:19:00.000+02:00

MAYBE MY FAVORITE FRUIT

It happens only once a year. I never buy them flown up from the southern hemisphere. I eat my own. You can see that they're not perfect. It's the first picking and they're still not as ripe as they will be.

But the birds love them even more than we do, hence the nets. Starlings flock to them in the thousands and can clean off a cherry tree like a piranha cleans the bones of a calf.

I tend to eat so many of them that I get a stomach ache. I think I have one now.

These are the ones we'll eat in a few days and they'll be big and black and wonderful. I hope to be feeling better.

The World of an Umbrian Interior

2011-05-03T08:40:00.000+02:00

GENERATIONS OF DECORATION

Pealing back newer, perhaps less admired, layers of color is a daily occupation for the lady of the house at Villa Aureli. We're in the salone here and this is its original floor. Years ago it might have been stuccoed over and painted but this herring bone motif is the floor's structural bones. The faux door looks to be of the late 19th century.

There are six of these 18th century divani and when the room is finished they'll stand along the walls as in formal noble reception rooms. I very much admired the duck egg blue with the brown leather. The style of furniture is perhaps Venetian—not surprising as this Alighieri family had roots in the Veneto.

A real door here reveals the modesty of style that characterizes houses such as these in Italy—the embellishment came later in the form of trompe l'oeil.

The family now lives, for the most part, on the ground floor of the villa where a series of doors open out onto the garden.

The floor here is the same 19th century maiolica as we saw in the gallery in my previous post.

The current owner's ancestors had great interest in interior decoration—these ornately painted door frames are everywhere throughout the lower floor of the villa.

And simple painted country chairs such as this abound.

A corner of a Pompeii-inspired sitting room features this Pompeii-inspired etagere.

A door of this room, which leads to the courtyard, has this delightful lookout.

The hominess of these rooms is found in such living details as this wood storage system of selected kindling and logs.

This is Villa Aureli as it appeared to one artist in the 18th century—a fresco of the salone.

And this is how I saw it on one recent fine spring day. Villa Aureli offers hospitality as well, check out their holiday facilities here.

After Rain

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THE VIEW FROM MY BEDROOM WINDOW

When I woke up this morning and opened the side window that faces the custodian's house I felt the joy of spring at its height. It had rained in the night and the sky was still covered and low and all the plants were luxuriating in the moisture—we've had three weeks of of endless sunshine here and things were beginning to get a little dry.

The rose climbing the stone facade is Cooper's Burmese, an extraordinary species rose admired for its simplicity. Off to the left we see the rose La Folette, another species. I planted it twenty years ago to cover the wall next to the gate but it chose to climb the liquidambar tree (sweet gum)—if you blow up this image you'll see it flowering high up in the tree's branches.

The Interior at Villa Aureli

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REFINEMENT IN THE ITALIAN 18TH CENTURY

The 18th century in Italy wasn't about "understated refinement." Here in Lucca, for instance, it was a period of "more is more," with every single decorative element fighting to take the lead in a rich show of "sumptuousness." I must say, it's not a style that appeals to me. But here and there we find wonderful examples of baroque simplicity—two words not often appearing side by side—and this lovely villa in Umbria is surely one of them.

The gallery at Villa Aureli (see my previous posts about the garden) features a limited pallet of vermillion damask with walls of faded-out blue-green and yellow. With such a light chromatic touch there's nothing jarring about the ornate cornices and stucco work, which almost seem to disappear in the chalky white.

The floors are most unusual for central Italy—you can find this sort of thing in Naples and in Sicily, however. These maiolica swirls, in the idiom of the era, featuring the family coat of arms, were locally made.

A few dark elements bring depth to the scene: the dark wood of the furniture and this stunning pietra dura table.

It's a sun-filled room, uplifting upon arrival in its purity and restful resolve.

This is a taste of the magnificent main "salone," which is now undergoing an exacting restoration. In my next post I'll show this work in progress.

An Easter Sunday Garden Walk

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EASTER SUNDAY AT HOME

Why go out on one of the loveliest holidays of the year?

A walk in the garden is often enough.

In silence, better yet.

Déjeuner Privé sur Place

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MOMENTS THAT MAKE MEMORIES

Every once in a while, all too infrequently perhaps, the elements that make up a moment somehow gel and the outcome is perfection. Some sun, yes, but not too hot a sun, some shadows, but not too many, a breeze, but not a wind. Our enormously refined hosts at Villa Aureli, among the many enviable skills they so effortlessly employ in ordering their beautiful lives, are obviously able to control even the weather.

Just as they have artfully orchestrated this mix of spring blooms, which so inspired us—the cameras were snapping furiously over this bed of anemones and wild flowers. We all intend to somehow copy it!

Order is what soothes us and gives us hope and confidence and this is an example of the kind of order we find in classic Italian gardens—the perfection of imperfection!

The precision of imprecision.

The untouched in which not a square inch of it has not been touched by man.

The lemon house and its garden, the beauty of understatement.

A Villa in Umbria

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VILLA AURELI

A blessed stretch of untouched countryside, miraculously spared desecration by the suburban sprawl of the outskirts of Perugia—what we call in Italian, cimentificazione—preserves this old carriage entrance to what is without doubt one of the loveliest villas in the Italian region of Umbria.

We're near the border of southern Tuscany and we've been invited here to lunch with a group of French garden owners traveling together in search of inspiration. The weather is perfect: the sunshine, the delightful spring temperatures in the low 70s. The wild daisies are blooming in the parterre and below this terrace sheep safely graze in the meadow.

A clever use of spring flowers in the low grasses lends this formal garden a touch of nonchalance.

The wall along the main terrace is a cheerful element with its baroque curves and narrow finials.

The house itself is handsome and dignified. It was originally, in the 16th century, the villa of the counts Aureli, then later of the Meniconi-Bracceschi, and the Serego Alighieri (as in Dante).

There are two of these elegant fountains, and they're perfection in their baroque simplicity. We'll see more of this simple and lovely garden in my next post, and then we'll venture inside for a look at the enchanting interior!

A Sunday Lunch

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DINING AL FRESCO

We can sometimes have lunch outside in January, if everything weather wise works out. Just off the kitchen we have this south-facing conservatory and it reflects sun and warms the table but this time of year you don't even need a sweater to enjoy a lunch outside.

It's a narrow terrace because most of the space here is give over to roses, which haven't quite opened up yet, but it's all right, I love small spaces and the intimacy they suggest.

We had an Iranian visual here today at the center of things. We bought the hand blown vase in Tehran a few years ago and what could be more culturally appropriate than a single tulip! The glasses are from Damascus.