Two Botticelli miniatures of the Hebrew heroine Judith slaying of the Assyrian General
The new Renaissance hero Beppe Grillo
Jonathan devours bread, olive oil and balsmic vinegar
Our tour guide showing the hopper for loading the olives
Monday, November 16, 2009
Politics of Oil
I had to sit down. I was overcome from viewing too many paintings. The full body ache had set in from my mind to my feet; a sensory overload top to bottom. I grabbed a plastic wrapped English translation guide that I sometimes found at each room entrance and maneuvered among the crowds into Room 9 the Antonio Pollaiolo on the second floor of the Uffizi. We had all separated somehow in private meditations of Renaissance and the multitude of visitors. I went for the bench and with my elbows propped on my knees and hands clasped around my chin I stared intently at two Botticelli miniatures, one with a decapitated head balanced on top of a young girl like a basket of fruit and the other a headless body lying in bed with a group of men standing around. Wow. What’s this? I read my guide. Encamped outside the Jewish city of Bethulia the Assyrian army awaited their invasion. Knowing the Hebrews were no match against the Assyrians the Jewish heroine Judith snuck into the Assyrian General Holofernes’ tent. Plying him with alcohol under the pretense that the beautiful widow would betray her people by sleeping with him, she lopped off his head. The Botticelli depicts Judith returning home with her maid Abra from killing the Assyrian General. In her right hand is a sword and in the left an olive branch.
More than likely it was the beheaded General’s sword and the threat that someone would discover him and come after her was entirely plausible. Her pensive look backwards is however not of a woman afraid for her life but rather knowingly confident about the symbolism of her actions. Judith carries the olive branch of peace back to her city in anticipation of what is about to happen. On learning of their leader’s assassination, the Assyrians retreated without a fight. Heroics of the individual had come strongly into play during the 1460’s Renaissance and Judith like David was a popular subject for her defiant courage against enormous odds.
Hi dad. I turned to see my 13 year old son Jonathan sitting next to me. Museums were not his favorite pastime unless they had swords, crossbows and armor. The severed head in the Botticelli seemed to get his attention though. That’s weird, his voice cracked in several octaves. Yea it is weird I said. What’s with the branch he said? I mean why carry the branch. I get the sword cause she cut off his head but come on why pick up a branch? It’s an olive branch, symbolic I explain of making peace with the Assyrians who were going to run the town off the face of the earth. You see she kills the Assyrian General before they attack and it sends them packing. You mean, Jonathan says, like the trees that they grow olives on? Yea. I’m hungry he says. Can we get something to eat?
Insatiable is the only word to describe a teenage boy’s appetite. Jonathan was infamous in our group for consuming an entire loaf of bread in less time than the time it took to prepare any meal. There was no way to beat it. And to top it off he used copious quantities of olive oil and balsamic vinegar with every loaf. I guessed the olive branch set off the latest pangs of hunger. Well, you’ll have to wait a bit. There’s a café somewhere in the museum and we can eat when we get there. The guilt set in that I was responsible for starving him and I rose from my bench to hasten the tour.
Thomas Jefferson once wrote “the olive tree is surely the richest gift of heaven” and Homer called olive oil “liquid gold”. The tree is virtually indestructible and thrives in hot and cold climates. The oil is excellent to burn for lamp light and has been used in cooking, medicine, skin treatment and religious and political ceremony since its cultivation in the Fertile Crescent 7,000 years ago. The historian Pliny said that by the first century A.D., olive oil in Italy was the best in the Mediterranean and reasonably priced to boot. The “best” had always been considered to be “Lucca” oil produced in Tuscany. Florence was the center for Lucca oil trade and thrived on it through the centuries. Tomorrow I explain to Jonathan we tour the olive oil factory at the place we’re staying. True to form he had consumed an entire loaf of bread in the café before we are served our lunch. I still don’t get the branch dad. I mean did she just happen to pick up an olive branch on her way home. I thought you said the Renaissance painters were into realism. How real is that? Well let’s not get too focused on the olive branch.
Wait. What? Jonathan echoes his two most spoken words. We’re going to see how they make olive oil? Awesome.
That night back at our 15th century villa, Fattoria di Maiano, also an active Certified Organic Olive Oil farm, we switched on the TV and watched on RAI a variety show broadcast live from a beach resort on the Amalfi coast. Michael Bolton did a duet with the hostess, a very tall and beautiful black haired Italian woman. She towered over all of the male and female performers. It was very sentimental and a young opera tenor with perhaps the biggest neck I have ever seen brought a tear to my eye. Why don’t we have these kinds of shows in the US I said to Rebecca. Sal and Domo had gone to the café at the Fattoria to try to get a Skype connection on the internet as there was no service in the apartments. The news came on and amid images of Obama at the Big 8 Economic Summit and World Soccer Cup reports was a bit about the infamous comedian and social activist Beppe Grillo. He had been in Florence recently in a Summit of his own in which he laid out a grass roots plan to eliminate political corruption in Italy. His blog is the 7th most read blog in the world and he is the second most popular public figure in Italy. Described as a cross between Michael Moore and Stephan Colbert, Beppe has been a thorn in the side of the mafia and the political left and right and is a modern crusader for numerous causes not the least of which is term limitations for politicians and no parliament members with criminal records. There are at last count over 80 elected members in the Italian government with criminal records. It is not a coincidence that Beppe has launched his effort from Florence calling it a new Renaissance and is enthusiastically supporting young people to run for city councilors seats throughout the country. Banned for the most part from the government run television because of his encounters with officials he does his work on his blog and is a huge proponent of nationalizing Water and WiFi. He believes everyone should work at home and advocates sustainable living environments and no growth. Botticelli would have been proud of Beppe.
We got the tour the next day from two statuesque Italian girls, one brunette, and one blond. We walked through the main house and our guide, the brunette, showed us where scenes from the movies, Room with a View and Tea with Mussolini were filmed. The house had been Sforza family of Milan and later the infamous Pazzi family. A saint had grown up here Mary Magdelene de’ Pazzi and the Poet/Bard Alfonso de' Pazzi, In the 1800’s the property was purchased by Sir John Temple Leader and did a great deal to improve the house and grounds. Maiano estate covers an area of nearly 300 hectares, mainly used for growing olives (20.000 olive trees on 110 hectares). “Frantoio” and “Moraiolo” olives are picked entirely by hand in the months of November and December, then pressed in the olive mill on the farm a few hours after being picked.
In a New Yorker magazine article called “Slippery Business” the writer Tom Mueller chronicles the history of corruption in the olive oil business in Italy. In recent years millions of dollars have been made on substituting the real thing with other kinds of oils. “Profits were comparable to cocaine trafficking, with none of the risks,” one investigator told the reporter. Fattoria di Maiano is the real deal. After the tour we did a tasting of Laudemio, an extra virgin olive oil. Jonathan was first in line.
Dad, he said. I still don’t get the olive branch in the painting.
More than likely it was the beheaded General’s sword and the threat that someone would discover him and come after her was entirely plausible. Her pensive look backwards is however not of a woman afraid for her life but rather knowingly confident about the symbolism of her actions. Judith carries the olive branch of peace back to her city in anticipation of what is about to happen. On learning of their leader’s assassination, the Assyrians retreated without a fight. Heroics of the individual had come strongly into play during the 1460’s Renaissance and Judith like David was a popular subject for her defiant courage against enormous odds.
Hi dad. I turned to see my 13 year old son Jonathan sitting next to me. Museums were not his favorite pastime unless they had swords, crossbows and armor. The severed head in the Botticelli seemed to get his attention though. That’s weird, his voice cracked in several octaves. Yea it is weird I said. What’s with the branch he said? I mean why carry the branch. I get the sword cause she cut off his head but come on why pick up a branch? It’s an olive branch, symbolic I explain of making peace with the Assyrians who were going to run the town off the face of the earth. You see she kills the Assyrian General before they attack and it sends them packing. You mean, Jonathan says, like the trees that they grow olives on? Yea. I’m hungry he says. Can we get something to eat?
Insatiable is the only word to describe a teenage boy’s appetite. Jonathan was infamous in our group for consuming an entire loaf of bread in less time than the time it took to prepare any meal. There was no way to beat it. And to top it off he used copious quantities of olive oil and balsamic vinegar with every loaf. I guessed the olive branch set off the latest pangs of hunger. Well, you’ll have to wait a bit. There’s a café somewhere in the museum and we can eat when we get there. The guilt set in that I was responsible for starving him and I rose from my bench to hasten the tour.
Thomas Jefferson once wrote “the olive tree is surely the richest gift of heaven” and Homer called olive oil “liquid gold”. The tree is virtually indestructible and thrives in hot and cold climates. The oil is excellent to burn for lamp light and has been used in cooking, medicine, skin treatment and religious and political ceremony since its cultivation in the Fertile Crescent 7,000 years ago. The historian Pliny said that by the first century A.D., olive oil in Italy was the best in the Mediterranean and reasonably priced to boot. The “best” had always been considered to be “Lucca” oil produced in Tuscany. Florence was the center for Lucca oil trade and thrived on it through the centuries. Tomorrow I explain to Jonathan we tour the olive oil factory at the place we’re staying. True to form he had consumed an entire loaf of bread in the café before we are served our lunch. I still don’t get the branch dad. I mean did she just happen to pick up an olive branch on her way home. I thought you said the Renaissance painters were into realism. How real is that? Well let’s not get too focused on the olive branch.
Wait. What? Jonathan echoes his two most spoken words. We’re going to see how they make olive oil? Awesome.
That night back at our 15th century villa, Fattoria di Maiano, also an active Certified Organic Olive Oil farm, we switched on the TV and watched on RAI a variety show broadcast live from a beach resort on the Amalfi coast. Michael Bolton did a duet with the hostess, a very tall and beautiful black haired Italian woman. She towered over all of the male and female performers. It was very sentimental and a young opera tenor with perhaps the biggest neck I have ever seen brought a tear to my eye. Why don’t we have these kinds of shows in the US I said to Rebecca. Sal and Domo had gone to the café at the Fattoria to try to get a Skype connection on the internet as there was no service in the apartments. The news came on and amid images of Obama at the Big 8 Economic Summit and World Soccer Cup reports was a bit about the infamous comedian and social activist Beppe Grillo. He had been in Florence recently in a Summit of his own in which he laid out a grass roots plan to eliminate political corruption in Italy. His blog is the 7th most read blog in the world and he is the second most popular public figure in Italy. Described as a cross between Michael Moore and Stephan Colbert, Beppe has been a thorn in the side of the mafia and the political left and right and is a modern crusader for numerous causes not the least of which is term limitations for politicians and no parliament members with criminal records. There are at last count over 80 elected members in the Italian government with criminal records. It is not a coincidence that Beppe has launched his effort from Florence calling it a new Renaissance and is enthusiastically supporting young people to run for city councilors seats throughout the country. Banned for the most part from the government run television because of his encounters with officials he does his work on his blog and is a huge proponent of nationalizing Water and WiFi. He believes everyone should work at home and advocates sustainable living environments and no growth. Botticelli would have been proud of Beppe.
We got the tour the next day from two statuesque Italian girls, one brunette, and one blond. We walked through the main house and our guide, the brunette, showed us where scenes from the movies, Room with a View and Tea with Mussolini were filmed. The house had been Sforza family of Milan and later the infamous Pazzi family. A saint had grown up here Mary Magdelene de’ Pazzi and the Poet/Bard Alfonso de' Pazzi, In the 1800’s the property was purchased by Sir John Temple Leader and did a great deal to improve the house and grounds. Maiano estate covers an area of nearly 300 hectares, mainly used for growing olives (20.000 olive trees on 110 hectares). “Frantoio” and “Moraiolo” olives are picked entirely by hand in the months of November and December, then pressed in the olive mill on the farm a few hours after being picked.
In a New Yorker magazine article called “Slippery Business” the writer Tom Mueller chronicles the history of corruption in the olive oil business in Italy. In recent years millions of dollars have been made on substituting the real thing with other kinds of oils. “Profits were comparable to cocaine trafficking, with none of the risks,” one investigator told the reporter. Fattoria di Maiano is the real deal. After the tour we did a tasting of Laudemio, an extra virgin olive oil. Jonathan was first in line.
Dad, he said. I still don’t get the olive branch in the painting.
Tuesday, November 3, 2009
Florence Pictures
Fattoria Di Maino 15th Century lodging
Front door to our Loggia apartment
Geese on the property on the way to the swimming pool
Loggia apartment is called that because it has a long narrow room with windows that look over the courtyard
Domo's swollen hands from mosquito bites.
An Intolerance of Wheat
We were hanging on for dear life as the bus lurched forward and I accidently bumped into a large Polish student. Mi scusi. So we take the 17 to this loop over the railroad track. Right there I said pointing my finger on the spot balancing on the pole wrapped in the crook of my elbow. We get off right there and shop at the outdoor market and then pick up the 7 right here to go back.
Are you looking for a Supermarket said the fat cheeked Polish kid in perfect English. Yes we are, I lit up. I can show you the place I shop. It is right near my apartment so it’s no problem for me to show you. It’s good but not too expensive.
Sal looked skeptical trailing 10 paces behind as we got off the bus and followed Dimetri to his Supermarket. Our Polish friend was in Florence for the summer studying Italian. It was his last day and I waved goodbye to him as he headed home. The market was well stocked and Sal and I went quickly to work on collecting food for the next few days. I grabbed a handful of citronella candles for the sake of all of us suffering from mosquito bites. Sal tracked down the pasta and canned tomato sauce and then we both congregated at the meat and cheese counter. One could make the claim that Italy is the best place in the world to eat. It’s all very addictive stuff. The wine, pasta, bread, fresh vegetables, prepared meats and of course pizza. The smell is irresistible; especially if you are wheat intolerant celiac. In fact it’s pure torture. You might as well take the poor soul directly to the chambers where they do unspeakable acts. I had made it a practice when I got to a place to look for stuff for Nick to eat. A good staple was rice cakes and cream cheese as a failsafe. Found.
Things were not always this good. In 1860 the average life expectancy was 30 years old in Italy. By 1910 it had only improved to 47 years old. American writer Nathaniel Hawthorne noted Roman cooking to make him “sick at stomach of sour bread, sour wine, rancid butter, and bad cookery, needlessly bestowed on evil meats.” The variety and abundance of food declined steadily through the 19th century because the land could not support the size of the population, poor transportation and storage of foods, badly managed and corrupt food companies and excessive government taxes. It was estimated that 70 to 80 percent of the family budget was spent on food consumption. Italians found that they could make 10 times the salary in America and by the early 1900’s a quarter of the Italian population in a great diaspora left, which made available more food for those that stayed. Interestingly the food industry got its act together for awhile in Italy and exported olive oil, cured meats, dried pasta and canned tomatoes to all the those folks who still wanted the taste of the old country in the Americas. With the help of several inventions, the “semolarice” to sort and sift the wheat and the “impastatrice” a mechanical kneading machine, the dried pasta business was in full swing. But things hit a snag during the First World War. Like other European governments Italy stepped in to stretch wheat supplies by setting the cost and as a consequence riots ensued throughout the country protesting the 20% increase in the price of a loaf of bread.
There are certain things you don’t want to do wrong in Italy. From experience in Rome food seemed to make everyone a bit edgy. So I carefully bagged the vegetables and dutifully weighed each one and tagged them with the appropriate label. We quickly had more food than we could conceivably carry on the bus so the store called a taxi that whisked us off to Fattoria di Maiano.
Our Loggia apartment was up two flights of stairs delivering us to the front door of solid oak that had two leafs each barely a foot and a half wide. The 15th century marble steps were so worn we had to lean forward while carrying the sacks of groceries to keep our momentum going. The key passed through the ancient bronze lock and released a bolt that echoed throughout the staircase. Inside the temperature was the same as outside…very hot. The boys had already been to the pool and back and were now preoccupied with laptop mind meld. Rebecca lay on the couch with a cold wash cloth on her face. Not a good sign. Amid the complaints of sore feet, mosquito bites and swollen body parts emerged the greatest of all teenage plagues…hunger.
During the First World War, Italy in an effort to solve its wheat shortage, turned to the US and Canada. By the end of the war, wheat amounted to 50% of the national debt. Sentiment ran high to return to a prewar free market and do away with government pricing. To further complicate things, the Italian farmers who were growing wheat before the war had turned to raising meat products. The land was not big enough to support both and the interdependence on foreign grains persisted. The price of pasta and a loaf of bread continued to rise despite the reduction in world wheat prices which made Italians very upset. The government blamed the retailers and did nothing to solve the real problems of corruption and poor infrastructure.
Despite blistered feet, Sal rose heroically to the test of feeding everyone. He had on numerous occasions prepared pasta for us back home. What made his pasta so good was how much he enjoyed cooking it. Animatedly he would tell stories of his mother’s cooking and how much he learned from her. His parents were born in Calabria in the little hill town of Serra San Bruno and are now gone. His father was a prisoner of war. After WWII he married Fina and came to Canada. Preparing pasta for the first time in Italy was like channeling their spirits back to life.
A strong argument could be made that food was the central issue in the rise to power of the Fascists from 1922 to 1945. Mussolini never missed a photo opportunity to take his shirt off and work alongside the Italian laborers threshing wheat. While in reality many of the policies mirrored that of the former liberal government the Fascists distinguished themselves by launching a major propaganda campaign to nationalize the modern Italian diet of pasta, bread, produce, cheese and wine. Eating anything else especially foreign food was discouraged and considered unpatriotic. Protests of food prices were dispelled through brutal retribution. During WWII Italy had the lowest caloric diet in Europe as the cost of war and the need to feed the troops sent the entire country back to 19th century scarcity.
Sal’s family survived the war though the clever stockpiling of wheat and shrewd management of portions. Proudly Sal brought the platter of red hot pasta to the table along with another platter of rolled beef stuffed with ricotta cheese and topped with tomato sauce. We opened a bottle of Chianti and sliced the bread. Pouring olive oil in a plate with balsamic vinegar, we dipped the bread, sipped the wine and topped the pasta with grated parmesan. While everyone silently filled themselves with food I looked over at Nick frozen with an anguished look. I can’t eat any of this he said.
How about some rice crackers and cream cheese Nick, I said.
Are you looking for a Supermarket said the fat cheeked Polish kid in perfect English. Yes we are, I lit up. I can show you the place I shop. It is right near my apartment so it’s no problem for me to show you. It’s good but not too expensive.
Sal looked skeptical trailing 10 paces behind as we got off the bus and followed Dimetri to his Supermarket. Our Polish friend was in Florence for the summer studying Italian. It was his last day and I waved goodbye to him as he headed home. The market was well stocked and Sal and I went quickly to work on collecting food for the next few days. I grabbed a handful of citronella candles for the sake of all of us suffering from mosquito bites. Sal tracked down the pasta and canned tomato sauce and then we both congregated at the meat and cheese counter. One could make the claim that Italy is the best place in the world to eat. It’s all very addictive stuff. The wine, pasta, bread, fresh vegetables, prepared meats and of course pizza. The smell is irresistible; especially if you are wheat intolerant celiac. In fact it’s pure torture. You might as well take the poor soul directly to the chambers where they do unspeakable acts. I had made it a practice when I got to a place to look for stuff for Nick to eat. A good staple was rice cakes and cream cheese as a failsafe. Found.
Things were not always this good. In 1860 the average life expectancy was 30 years old in Italy. By 1910 it had only improved to 47 years old. American writer Nathaniel Hawthorne noted Roman cooking to make him “sick at stomach of sour bread, sour wine, rancid butter, and bad cookery, needlessly bestowed on evil meats.” The variety and abundance of food declined steadily through the 19th century because the land could not support the size of the population, poor transportation and storage of foods, badly managed and corrupt food companies and excessive government taxes. It was estimated that 70 to 80 percent of the family budget was spent on food consumption. Italians found that they could make 10 times the salary in America and by the early 1900’s a quarter of the Italian population in a great diaspora left, which made available more food for those that stayed. Interestingly the food industry got its act together for awhile in Italy and exported olive oil, cured meats, dried pasta and canned tomatoes to all the those folks who still wanted the taste of the old country in the Americas. With the help of several inventions, the “semolarice” to sort and sift the wheat and the “impastatrice” a mechanical kneading machine, the dried pasta business was in full swing. But things hit a snag during the First World War. Like other European governments Italy stepped in to stretch wheat supplies by setting the cost and as a consequence riots ensued throughout the country protesting the 20% increase in the price of a loaf of bread.
There are certain things you don’t want to do wrong in Italy. From experience in Rome food seemed to make everyone a bit edgy. So I carefully bagged the vegetables and dutifully weighed each one and tagged them with the appropriate label. We quickly had more food than we could conceivably carry on the bus so the store called a taxi that whisked us off to Fattoria di Maiano.
Our Loggia apartment was up two flights of stairs delivering us to the front door of solid oak that had two leafs each barely a foot and a half wide. The 15th century marble steps were so worn we had to lean forward while carrying the sacks of groceries to keep our momentum going. The key passed through the ancient bronze lock and released a bolt that echoed throughout the staircase. Inside the temperature was the same as outside…very hot. The boys had already been to the pool and back and were now preoccupied with laptop mind meld. Rebecca lay on the couch with a cold wash cloth on her face. Not a good sign. Amid the complaints of sore feet, mosquito bites and swollen body parts emerged the greatest of all teenage plagues…hunger.
During the First World War, Italy in an effort to solve its wheat shortage, turned to the US and Canada. By the end of the war, wheat amounted to 50% of the national debt. Sentiment ran high to return to a prewar free market and do away with government pricing. To further complicate things, the Italian farmers who were growing wheat before the war had turned to raising meat products. The land was not big enough to support both and the interdependence on foreign grains persisted. The price of pasta and a loaf of bread continued to rise despite the reduction in world wheat prices which made Italians very upset. The government blamed the retailers and did nothing to solve the real problems of corruption and poor infrastructure.
Despite blistered feet, Sal rose heroically to the test of feeding everyone. He had on numerous occasions prepared pasta for us back home. What made his pasta so good was how much he enjoyed cooking it. Animatedly he would tell stories of his mother’s cooking and how much he learned from her. His parents were born in Calabria in the little hill town of Serra San Bruno and are now gone. His father was a prisoner of war. After WWII he married Fina and came to Canada. Preparing pasta for the first time in Italy was like channeling their spirits back to life.
A strong argument could be made that food was the central issue in the rise to power of the Fascists from 1922 to 1945. Mussolini never missed a photo opportunity to take his shirt off and work alongside the Italian laborers threshing wheat. While in reality many of the policies mirrored that of the former liberal government the Fascists distinguished themselves by launching a major propaganda campaign to nationalize the modern Italian diet of pasta, bread, produce, cheese and wine. Eating anything else especially foreign food was discouraged and considered unpatriotic. Protests of food prices were dispelled through brutal retribution. During WWII Italy had the lowest caloric diet in Europe as the cost of war and the need to feed the troops sent the entire country back to 19th century scarcity.
Sal’s family survived the war though the clever stockpiling of wheat and shrewd management of portions. Proudly Sal brought the platter of red hot pasta to the table along with another platter of rolled beef stuffed with ricotta cheese and topped with tomato sauce. We opened a bottle of Chianti and sliced the bread. Pouring olive oil in a plate with balsamic vinegar, we dipped the bread, sipped the wine and topped the pasta with grated parmesan. While everyone silently filled themselves with food I looked over at Nick frozen with an anguished look. I can’t eat any of this he said.
How about some rice crackers and cream cheese Nick, I said.
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