Two things coincided last week. My first zucchini from the garden (hurray!) and Sophie getting two wisdom teeth removed (not so hurray!). She had them yanked in Rome, and Domenico picked her up directly from the dentist and brought her to Todi, where I”d been spending the week.

For those of you who know Sophie you know the  main thing she was worried about was what she was going to eat while recuperating. Sophie is, to put it mildly, a good eater. This means she not only eats a lot, but thinks about what she is going to eat and is very demanding when it comes to quality. Sound familiar?

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This year, due to rain and too many urban social engagements our vegetable garden in Todi is way behind. It’s only this past weekend that we’ve finally gotten stuff in the ground. (more on that in next blog). But even though the rain dampened our planting (literally) it did wonders for all the things we have no control over. Foraging is one of the funnest things about being in the country. Wild asparagus, dandelion greens, blackberries. And my friend Jane is maniacal about getting while the getting is good.
This weekend was really the first time we were able to come up to Todi in about six weeks. Jane was all set to go looking for asparagus – or even dandelions – but it was already too late for that. The June sun was beating down and  the asparagus had already turned  ferny and the dandelions had long since flowered. Cherries, however, were quite another story.

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I don’t usually shop at truck stops. You are more likely to find me at Campo dei Fiori, Piazza Vittorio or the organic farmer’s market in Testaccio. But all that changed a couple of years ago when Lufra’ Mozzarella di Bufala opened its doors at the gas station where we usually stop on the way up to Todi, from Rome.

Anyone with a home in Umbria knows which gas station I am talking about. Take the A1 autostrada north from Rome, and then exit at Orte. Just after you’ve paid your toll, and take a right on to the access road, the gas station is about 250 meters on your right, before you hit the E45.

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Every November two questions come up: What to do with all my quinces? (I have a quince tree in Umbria) And what pies to make for Thanksgiving? This year I had the same answer to both: a Quince Crostata. While I’ve made plenty of quince crisps and pies over the years, somehow the idea of a crostata never occurred to me. And this is strange, since in my neck of the woods (I’m talking Todi) I’m considered the Crostata Queen. Invite me to dinner, and I will certainly bring a crostata or two.

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