Umbria Untour, fall of 2000
by Brian Taussig-Lux, Idyll General Manager
[Brian Taussig-Lux is Idyll, Ltd.'s General Manager. We hope you enjoy his account of his first trip to Umbria!]
I rounded the bend to see a hilltop city glowing in the last warm rays of the October sun. Spoleto’s fortress was radiant, perched above the town like a watchful falcon. An arched 14th century viaduct stretched from the castle across the valley and defied my camera lens’s attempts to include it with the castle-topped city. After a two-and-a-half hour drive from the Rome airport, my first day in Umbria was ending well. Now, if I could just find my apartment and sleep off my jet lag, everything would be fine.
I had come to Umbria with several clear goals: to meet our new Umbrian staff representative; to visit our Untour apartments; to research several excursions; and—my most unpleasant assignment—to find good restaurants near our Untour farms.
As I settled into my comfortable and cozy apartment, I looked around the kitchen stocked with bread, cold cuts, fruit and a local Montefalco wine and thought about how nice it would be to just eat a light supper before collapsing into bed. Then I thought about all the restaurants I needed to visit in six days. I reluctantly drove to nearby Trevi to try out a local restaurant. The waiter’s face betrayed his sympathy as I confirmed that I was indeed dining solo. As I savored my bruschetta drenched in the famed local olive oil and topped with garlic and fresh tomatoes, I realized I had made the right decision.
My next and final course was strangozzi, a local homemade pasta, with olive oil and truffles. Never having tasted truffles before, I was delighted by the complex buttery flavor. My next pleasant surprise came with the check. With wine and mineral water, my meal came to $11. This was my first introduction to the tasty, inexpensive Umbrian cuisine.
On another night I decided to accept my landlady’s offer of a home-cooked dinner with other farm guests. The olive farm where I was staying was owned by a mother and her three daughters. They had a large vegetable garden which supplied their kitchen with abundant arugula, tomatoes, lettuce and radicchio. For a set price of $16, I enjoyed a delicious five-course meal. The only problem was that I did not properly pace myself!. I accepted a second helping of the risotto with fresh peas. This ensured that I would only be able to eat three bites of the juicy steak topped with arugula. Rather than seeming offended, my hostess had a look of triumph on her face as I conceded defeat and passed on the fruit dessert.
The next evening, determined to eat more moderately, I set off for a mountain restaurant renowned for its traditional Umbrian cooking. The owner’s business card described him as “the king of truffles.” After negotiating a number of hairpin turns and arriving in the mountain village of Pettino, I regretted not having come here during daylight. The moon illuminated just enough of the valley below for me to imagine what the vistas would have been like at lunch time. The bruschetta and strangozzi with truffles were excellent, as was the plate of homemade cakes I enjoyed for dessert. I ended up almost as stuffed as the night before despite my best intentions. The “king” turned out to be an avid hunter of both game and truffles. His menu included wild boar, venison and pigeon.
Between meals, I spent my time exploring a few of the region’s numerous hill towns and cities. I particularly enjoyed the small hill town of Spello, near Assisi, where I was able to see a richly colored painting by the 16th century Umbrian artist known as Pinturicchio. I enjoyed a hike across Spoleto’s viaduct and up a steep wooded trail to Monteluco. The lavish privately-owned villas I saw along the path were built on the foundations of medieval hermitages.
In Passignano, the pottery in some of the local gift shops caught my eye. I found the intricate, brightly-colored maiolica designs especially beautiful. A quick conversation with a proprietor sent me off to the source of these beautiful ceramics, the town of Deruta in the nearby Tiber Valley.
Sure enough, the center of town had dozens of shops, each with amazing displays of the local ceramic style. I watched the artisan-owners working, often in a corner of the store. I learned later that Deruta is considered one of the five most important centers for this Italian style of pottery. Maiolica has been created for over 500 years in the region.
Closer to “my” farm, Trevi lays claim to a distinction even more important in modern Italy—home of Italy’s best olive oil. Signs at the entrance to the town proclaim Trevi’s superiority for all to see. The title is disputed by a town in Liguria, along Italy’s northwestern coast, but this does not phase local patriots. Trevians speak quite knowledgeably about the effects of elevation, soil, and extraction technique on olive oil, but I was more interested enjoying it on bruschetta.
I detoured to Tuscany to visit Harriet, our gracious Tuscany Untour representative. As I drove toward the northwest, I was struck by the way the landscape changed from the high, almost masculine mountains lining the Valle Umbra to the gentler, more feminine hills of Tuscany.
Harriet and I talked over lunch about her impressions of Umbria. She was particularly impressed with the reasonable cost of restaurant meals in Umbria relative to Tuscany. Prices seemed to be about twenty percent less on the southern side of the regional border. She pointed out that Umbrians were less likely to speak English than Tuscans because of the relative lack of tourism. I felt as though I waved my hands and feet to communicate almost as much in Tuscany as in Umbria, but she was probably correct. We discussed Umbrians’ reputation for being more taciturn than their Tuscan cousins, but I noted my animated conversations with Umbrians on subjects ranging from olive oil to the likelihood of encountering a snake while hiking (very low).
As I drove past Trevi on my way back to Rome, I remembered the delicious meal I’d had at the top of the nearly vertical town. As my rented Lancia passed under Spoleto’s magnificent viaduct, I thought about the hike I had taken two days earlier across the ancient bridge, past two castles, through an oak forest to the top of a nearby mountain. The “green heart of Italy” had hooked me. I would be back.