Lake Garda is peppered with castles. Old and foreboding with thick walls and turreted towers, they now sit proudly above or within the coastal communities that dot the lake. They are attention grabbers. Sirmione sits on a peninsula that juts into the lake. It is a “wow” community and it is obvious that it is a favorite among the “with it” set of folks who happen to have means. The lake is very clear and the ducks, sea gulls and swans that wait for crumbs to be tossed are picturesque as they weave and bob on the blue water. As the sun pushed the fog away, Lake Garda cast its magic spell and begged for us to stay longer, but after two days, it was time to go.

While at Garda, I would take wonderful pictures of the Standly’s. I would beg Randy to take a picture of Kathy and me. When he finally would consent, acting somewhat peeved that I was interrupting his shopping for a shirt or tie, the results were not the best. He would complain that the sun was in his eyes or that we were standing in the dark or whatever. I would say that I had no problem taking his picture and he would say that I knew how to use the camera and he didn’t. So, with the pictures posted here, you have the evidence right in front of your eyes. For those of you who know him, when you see him back in Tomball, don’t let him fool you with sweet talk about how he sacrificed to make the Graumann’s “encore life” tour easier:-) WEG

Kathy and I and the Standly’s, who are traveling with us right now, share a common experience–we both tried to make homemade ravioli from scratch with terrible results. To remedy that situation, we went to Italian cooking school today on the Lido (a small island close to Venice). We boarded the vaporetto–the large water taxi that plies the big canals in Venice on a scheduled route–for the trip out to the island. We walked its quaint streets to the residential neighborhood where our class was to take place. It was a beautiful neighborhood where each house was a villa–large, stately and old. Marika, our instructor, is a culinary chef by training, but settled on the Lido to teach cooking. Her villa was remodeled for this purpose. The kitchen was a dream, every appliance imaginable. If you watch any of the food network cooking shows, this was her kitchen–built in flash freezer, built in sparkling water spout, commercial ice cream maker, commercial pasta dough maker, built in coffee machine that makes every coffee thing imaginable, etc. There were 12 students (England, Belgium, France, and Texas) and Marika and her three assistants and room for all to work. What a day!

We made Venetian vegetables tempura; ravioli with spinach and ricotta in a butter and sage sauce; potato and spinach gnocchi with gorgonzola sauce; black Ligurian olive gnocchi with caramelized tomatoes and scampi; sgroppino veneziano (lemon sorbet ice cream mixture with prosecco wine). All of this was made from scratch and we all decided that we can come home and make ravioli with confidence. Yes, we did get to eat the labor of our hands and everyone agreed that what I made tasted the best 🙂 In fact, you could actually pick out which gnoccchi I made by hand from the serving bowl–they tasted so good–my secret–I didn’t wash my hands for three days beforehand 🙂

Below is the recipe for the sgroppino veneziano–serves 12. This is really good!

For the sorbet/ice cream (sorbet is not made with milk, but sgroppino is made like sorbet but with milk, thus making it ice cream like)

1 cup of heavy cream
3/4 cup sugar
1 cup whole milk
Juice of 3 organic lemons
Vanilla extract–whole vanilla bean in the hot milk, scraped and pod discarded

Melt the sugar in the milk that is warming on the stove. Add the vanilla bean and then add the cold heavy cream and then the fresh squeezed lemon juice. Stirring constantly, heat the mixture, but DO NOT BOIL. Scrape the inner vanilla bean and discard the pod–it is ok, in fact, preferred, to get the black vanilla beans in the mixture. (P.S. It will curdle a little and that is ok as it will dissolve as it mixes to freeze.) Place in an ice cream machine for at least 25 minutes or until softly frozen and then pour into a CHILLED container and place into a freezer.

For the liquid:

1 Tablespoon Absolute Lemon Vodka
1/4 Cup Prosecco Wine
1/3 Cup Sprite

Add the Prosecco, Vodka and Sprite to the frozen sorbet/ice cream and whisk with an electric blender to reach a smooth creamy consistency. It has to be creamy enough to drink. If too thick, add more Prosecco. Serve in a fluted glass.

Kathy and I decided to just walk Venice–no map–just see where each turn would take us. It was a fog-laden day, just the right kind of day for exploring narrow alleys and small plazas. Randy and Melisa were off to the Doges Palace. Kathy and I have been there and will likely go again later this year, so we opted for the walk. We had seen Murano earlier in the day and had watched a master glass blower make a vase. We also visited Burano where we had watched a skilled woman knit lace. (OK–we had to ride the vaporetto to get to those two small islands.) On our walk, we saw open courtyards and open churches–one had a magnificent painted ceiling and lit candles. We saw the great St. Mark’s Cathedral with its gold mosaics lining multiple domes. We saw little bridges, either stone or iron, and had to traipse over many of them. Everywhere were archways and towers. We often walked into a dead end at a canal or plaza and just turned around and tried a new route. I told Kathy that eventually we would end up somewhere, and we did–the Rialto Bridge and the fish market that we had seen earlier in the day. From the Rialto, we knew our bearings. It was an adventure–one I like–just launch out and see where the current takes you and enjoy the trip.

We effortlessly glided along the rails comfortably situated in our train coach. It was raining all across Italy. We rode past green pastures and large vineyards. Then suddenly, the Adriatic was on both sides of the track, signaling our arrival in the Venice St. Lucia Station. Venice does not change. The canals and bridges that cross them are ever-present. Old buildings with archways and shops of every description line very narrow streets. The good news is that there are no cars, bicycles or scooters to vie for the limited space. There are gondolas, water taxis, and vaporettos to ferry you if you do not wish to walk. It is so very easy to get lost. Streets do not always go through, ending abruptly at a wall or building or canal, and dark alleyways seem somewhat foreboding, especially on an overcast day. We spent our afternoon walking around and to see the great San Marco Square, large and formal and beautiful. Tomorrow holds much in store. WEG

Ravenna converted to Christianity in the 100s and many martyrs were made here before the Edict of Milan in 313 officially ended Christian persecution. The martyrdom of Vitalis led to the building of an early Christian church over the spot of his live burial for the faith. Today, St. Vitalis Church contains the most resplendent mosaics in Western art. Ravenna is noted for the ancient Christian mosaics that are scattered around the city. I have seen churches far more vast and filled with spectacular treasures of art, but it was here at St. Vitalis that I felt as if I were standing on holy ground, in one of the earliest Christian churches with early Christian art on a place where those who came before us actually paid the price with their lives.

San Gimignano turned out to be a pleasure way beyond expectations. The drive to the medieval village was along narrow, and at times, one lane roads and bridges and through vineyards, occasionally happening upon churches or deserted stone outbuildings. Nestled in the high hills of the Chianti Region of Tuscany, San Gimignano is the quintessential “hill town” of Italy. Its thirteen towers stand proudly above intimate plazas and narrow streets filled with interesting shops and restaurants. A street curves along the medieval walls which surround the small town offering breathtaking views of the grape arbors and olive groves in the deep valley below, while snow clad mountains loom in the distance. Once pilgrims on their way to Rome bolstered the local economy; whereas, tourists gladly take their place in modern times. Taking lunch in the church plaza in the warm sun of an outdoor seating area beside the ancient city well, the Standly’s and Graumann’s decided it was an enchanting day. WEG

I discovered a new pizza today–Nutella. It is thin pizza dough made into a pocket and filled with Nutellla, heated and covered with chocolate paste and powdered sugar. I ate two, and refused to share.

Today was Tuscany! Wonderful Tuscany! The hills are high and vine covered. Twisting roads snake up the hills and quaint Italian towns with towers stand in the distance, beckoning. We stopped in one–Greve in Chianti. The town square was lined with small shops selling local crafts and flowers. We stopped in one and I asked the woman butcher if some sausage was raw. She promptly cut some off for me to eat and while eating she cut off more from a different kind and before I could stop her, cut off more from an entirely different kind and poured her in-house made olive oil into a cup for me to drink. I walked out with a bag full of stuff, but she gave Randy (the Standly’s are traveling with us) and me kisses and a hearty, “buon giorno.” I love Tuscany.

Siena, the jewel of Tuscany, is a city enclosed with massive medieval walls and gently curved streets where the buildings are in almost perfect harmony lined in completely seamless array, leading to the Piazza del Campo, considered the prettiest plaza in Italy. The duomo is intricate and detailed–the exterior marble and wonderfully covered with a menagerie of statuary and the interior exquisite with gold starred ceiling, frescoed walls and marble floors inlaid to depict important historical events. I love Tuscany. WEG

On an amble through Florence today, the Standly’s, Kathy and I ran into some unexpected pleasures, like the Boboli Gardens, the huge park/gardens of the Medici Family, the ruler/banker family who funded much of the Renaissance. Their glorious Pitti Palace had the gardens as its front yard. Filled with fountains, hidden trails and statuary, it also included many museums. It was here that the electricity went off while I was using the restroom and sitting in a completely enclosed “stall” had to fumble around in the dark for all the necessities. It was not humorous at that moment.

We also stumbled upon a fully costumed enactment of the Renaissance flag throwing ceremony in the Piazza Della Signoria, the large gathering space for ancient town meetings filled with marble and bronze statues. With trumpets blaring and drums pounding, the flag bearers worked with precision. It was a happy discovery.

I was personally moved by the two famous crosses housed in the Santa Croce church–one by Donatello and the other by Cimabue. Santa Croce is the church of Italian national glory, housing the tombs of Michelangelo, Dante, Machiavelli and Galileo among others. It is filled with artistic treasures, but the crosses along with Gaddi’s fresco of the Last Supper and the Tree of Life caught my attention and gave me inner peace.

The laugh moment of the day came with Melisa’s suggestion that Randy and I copy the pose of statues in the Boboli gardens for some fun pictures. I pointed to one for Randy to copy in our game of “double dog dare you.” What he and Melisa did not know was that I was filming rather than picture taking. The big discovery was Randy’s acting ability. The resulting video provided so much amusement that other tourists commented to me later in the day that they enjoyed watching us having so much fun. WEG

The Cinque Terre (Chink-wah Teh-rah) are so intriguing and mysterious. The five villages are all old and filled with narrow alleyways and stairs to climb. Built right into the mountainside and hugging the Mediterranean, they keep the residents well fit. We watched a helicopter remove garbage bags from rooftops and ferry them to trucks on the hills above, since cars/trucks could not reach the village. A small but scenic harbor allowed small trawlers to maneuver between rocks to reach shore, and hoists picked up boats out of the sea to their land resting place after the fisherman finished their work for the day. Old fortress turrets rose above cliffs and monasteries with beautiful chapels stood above each village. Ancient cemeteries with family mausoleums sat on hilltops accessible with steep stairways. Mountain walkways with sea views connect the villages. Laundry hung from clothes lines outside windows that somehow added to the ambiance. Flowers filled wooden wheel-barrows sitting outside small restaurants. The homes are worn pastels and stacked multistory, somehow out of kilter. All of this adds to the charm and gives unforgettable character.

For a meal the fourth generation owner ran to the sea to get the fresh urchin–he proudly showed me the fish–prior to using it to season the fresh pasta and sauce he was serving. Melisa charmed a 90 year old man by speaking Spanish with him–he gave us lemon and grapefruit off his trees.

Driving the twisty-windy roads back to Florence, we drove in snow in the mountain tops and many snowcapped mountains gave us majestic views. Back in the apartment, Italy appeared in the voice of opera wafting through the air. Across the street–one lane–a woman is in voice practice and the high soprano notes certify that she has a good voice. WEG

Wayne had a little trouble pronouncing the name of one of the five villages of the Cinque Terre, the “Five Lands” that hug the coast of the Mediterranean Sea. That city’s name was Riomaggiore, but Wayne pronounced it Rigmarole-ee. He did not do it on purpose; it was just the best he could do with his Italian. What an amazing day it was! Words fail to describe the beauty of the ocean, the mountains, the cities clinging to the mountainside or hugging the ocean. It was as Italian as Italian can be. KG