My Tuscan culinary goodness saga continues with a description of some antipasti we enjoyed during our recent trip. After a few hours of walking around Florence, it's hard to think of a better way to prepare for a meal than sipping some Chianti and accompanying it with a nice prosciutto.
On two occasions we were given Tuscan bread topped with a delicious liver spread. Bruschetta, (which by the way is pronounced bru'sket:ta in English as well - there's no "sh" sound anywhere in that word, as I hear constantly in the US), is also common in Tuscan antipasti, as are artichoke hearts, salami of all sorts, and ewe's milk pecorino, one of my favorite cheeses.
I have to say something, for I cannot keep quiet about this after living in Paris and enjoying some of the best bread in the world. Tuscan bread sucks. It has no taste. Apologies, my dear Tuscans, but you need to put some salt in that dough. The crust is lovely, the inside fluffiness is nice, but insipid should be no part of anything Tuscan or Italian. I understand that you often top it with strong-tasting stuff like wild boar prosciutto and liver spread, so you may think that you need neutral bread, but for goodness sake please put some taste in those buns.
Now that I've successfully insulted Tuscan bread lovers as well as Tuscan bread bakers who are probably very proud of their generations-old bread baking techniques, I'll go on.
Have you ever heard of this glorious thing called burrata? It is a thing to make you cry because it is so good. It is a fresh Italian cheese made from mozzarella and cream, and is so soft it feels like butter on your tongue. Actually, burrata means "buttered" in Italian. The dish photographed above is a quenelle of burrata served with a tian of roasted vegetables and a sun dried tomato sauce. Too bad for the tasteless Tuscan crouton on top, but I'll get over it.
As part of the celebration of my parents' 40th wedding anniversary, we dined at Osteria di Passignano, a fantastic winery restaurant complete with its own Michelin star and a fabulous troupe of knowledgeable and amiable servers. It was a wine pairing extravaganza. The servers are well-trained sommeliers who taught us much about the wine we were drinking. It was a pageant of wines, olive oils, pestos, and flavors that had celebrations in our mouths.
As my family's loving life saga continued, so did our adventure of eating our way through Chianti. The antipasti courses of our meals were exceptional, and only the beginning of a beautiful friendship with Tuscan food.
 |
| Tuscan antipasti |
I have to say something, for I cannot keep quiet about this after living in Paris and enjoying some of the best bread in the world. Tuscan bread sucks. It has no taste. Apologies, my dear Tuscans, but you need to put some salt in that dough. The crust is lovely, the inside fluffiness is nice, but insipid should be no part of anything Tuscan or Italian. I understand that you often top it with strong-tasting stuff like wild boar prosciutto and liver spread, so you may think that you need neutral bread, but for goodness sake please put some taste in those buns.
Now that I've successfully insulted Tuscan bread lovers as well as Tuscan bread bakers who are probably very proud of their generations-old bread baking techniques, I'll go on.
 |
| Burrata and vegetable tian |
 |
| Olive oil tasting. The chickpeas offer a neutral flavor compared to the often bitter taste of the oil. |
 |
| Roasted vegetables with zucchini pesto and heavenly Chianti |
 |
| Fantastic white wine from Umbria to accompany our antipasti |
As my family's loving life saga continued, so did our adventure of eating our way through Chianti. The antipasti courses of our meals were exceptional, and only the beginning of a beautiful friendship with Tuscan food.
