Will Work for Rigatoni
by Marty Sturino
by Marty Sturino
Dear All,
While I am truly sorry that I can't be there with you.. With all my heart I wish you were here with me..
to enjoy this life of our ancestors still today..
Here in Calabria it isn't Thanksgiving, it is time to harvest the olives.
The folks here have been busy since early August... canning and putting up food for the winter... It began with sun-dried tomatoes and canning
tomatoes for sauce, followed by the grape harvest and wine making of September, followed by picking chestnuts in the mountains, and now it is
time to harvest the olives and take them to the press...
Italian friends of mine who are about my age have a small plot of land up above our village where they grow grapes, cherries, apricots and
chestnuts. The land also has a casetta... (Typically, a small place to get out of the weather and store tools, etc...) Theirs has a kitchen,
bedroom, and a bathroom... actually pretty large... It has electricity, running water and a sewer of sorts... Each day now, weather permitting they
ride their APE (three-wheeled Vespa on steroids) up to their land and pick olives. (Which might be better described as combing the olive trees)
I have been fortunate enough to help them... for free of course and I couldn't be happier... Just being up on the mountainside is incredible in
itself, high above the coast in such a beautiful place.
The process starts with laying huge plastic nets beneath the trees. They are held in place with sacks of dirt, and cover the entire area beneath
and around the tree. We then converge on the tree with what can best be described as industrial grade "little kids beach rakes" and strip the
olive tree of its abundant bounty... olive... The process is pretty straight forward... placing your self under the tree being careful not to step on
any olives and methodically stripping it of its olives. I have found that I am most efficient if I use my left hand to grip the branch, lift it to peer
beneath and expose the olives, then with my hand rake in my right hand reach to the highest olive in the bunch, and strip the branch. This might
take a few passes as the branches don't always want to cooperate, but eventually, after lifting, inspecting and caressing the tree for the better
part of an hour, the olives are on the ground, and the tree is clean as a whistle.
The work is total relaxation and enjoyment. Our little group of from three to five chat about life in Badolato, Calabria, Italy and the rest of the
world in that order.. We talk about family, other residents of our village, the harvest and whatever strikes our fancy, so long as we speak in
Italian... which brings a lot of laughter all by itself. My Italian is bad. Really...
Around 12:30, we break for lunch and the day. Some of us have Italian lessons in Soverato at 2:30 and we need time to eat first... Ahh... the
best part... Rosa, the wife of our host Vicenzo leaves the work a few minutes early and begins lunch. By the time we are carrying our buckets of
olives back to the casetta for cleaning and transport via the Ape to the press, Rosa will have the water boiling for spaghetti or rigatoni, and be
preparing the table for what can only be described as peasant food for the hungry workers.. The table is impressive with all sorts of meats,
sausages, cheeses, olives, and homemade wine. Rosa cuts slices of fresh baked peasant bread, and when the pasta is ready dishes it up to us
covered with her own sauce. Did I mention the fish? She made baccalà that was "Dio mio... come cibo dal cielo!" My god... like food from
heaven!
We eat, we talk, we eat some more... Then for desert Rosa brings out fresh figs, apples from up the road, and late grapes, golden yellow and so
sweet they couldn’t be more delicious. We agree that perhaps one more glass of wine would be ok. It is the new wine all of three weeks into this
season. It is a treat for the soul...
After a few more minutes of just sitting and moaning softly, savoring the flavors and aroma of Rosa's kitchen in this beautiful secret place, and
with great regret, we have to call it a day. We say our good byes and I head back down the mountain, to prepare for class. But what I really want
to do is take a nap.. Ahh.. tomorrow.. I can hardly wait!
Ciao.. Marty
©copyright 2008 Property of MJSturino,LLC
Any reproduction with-out the owners express written consent is strictly prohibited
While I am truly sorry that I can't be there with you.. With all my heart I wish you were here with me..
to enjoy this life of our ancestors still today..
Here in Calabria it isn't Thanksgiving, it is time to harvest the olives.
The folks here have been busy since early August... canning and putting up food for the winter... It began with sun-dried tomatoes and canning
tomatoes for sauce, followed by the grape harvest and wine making of September, followed by picking chestnuts in the mountains, and now it is
time to harvest the olives and take them to the press...
Italian friends of mine who are about my age have a small plot of land up above our village where they grow grapes, cherries, apricots and
chestnuts. The land also has a casetta... (Typically, a small place to get out of the weather and store tools, etc...) Theirs has a kitchen,
bedroom, and a bathroom... actually pretty large... It has electricity, running water and a sewer of sorts... Each day now, weather permitting they
ride their APE (three-wheeled Vespa on steroids) up to their land and pick olives. (Which might be better described as combing the olive trees)
I have been fortunate enough to help them... for free of course and I couldn't be happier... Just being up on the mountainside is incredible in
itself, high above the coast in such a beautiful place.
The process starts with laying huge plastic nets beneath the trees. They are held in place with sacks of dirt, and cover the entire area beneath
and around the tree. We then converge on the tree with what can best be described as industrial grade "little kids beach rakes" and strip the
olive tree of its abundant bounty... olive... The process is pretty straight forward... placing your self under the tree being careful not to step on
any olives and methodically stripping it of its olives. I have found that I am most efficient if I use my left hand to grip the branch, lift it to peer
beneath and expose the olives, then with my hand rake in my right hand reach to the highest olive in the bunch, and strip the branch. This might
take a few passes as the branches don't always want to cooperate, but eventually, after lifting, inspecting and caressing the tree for the better
part of an hour, the olives are on the ground, and the tree is clean as a whistle.
The work is total relaxation and enjoyment. Our little group of from three to five chat about life in Badolato, Calabria, Italy and the rest of the
world in that order.. We talk about family, other residents of our village, the harvest and whatever strikes our fancy, so long as we speak in
Italian... which brings a lot of laughter all by itself. My Italian is bad. Really...
Around 12:30, we break for lunch and the day. Some of us have Italian lessons in Soverato at 2:30 and we need time to eat first... Ahh... the
best part... Rosa, the wife of our host Vicenzo leaves the work a few minutes early and begins lunch. By the time we are carrying our buckets of
olives back to the casetta for cleaning and transport via the Ape to the press, Rosa will have the water boiling for spaghetti or rigatoni, and be
preparing the table for what can only be described as peasant food for the hungry workers.. The table is impressive with all sorts of meats,
sausages, cheeses, olives, and homemade wine. Rosa cuts slices of fresh baked peasant bread, and when the pasta is ready dishes it up to us
covered with her own sauce. Did I mention the fish? She made baccalà that was "Dio mio... come cibo dal cielo!" My god... like food from
heaven!
We eat, we talk, we eat some more... Then for desert Rosa brings out fresh figs, apples from up the road, and late grapes, golden yellow and so
sweet they couldn’t be more delicious. We agree that perhaps one more glass of wine would be ok. It is the new wine all of three weeks into this
season. It is a treat for the soul...
After a few more minutes of just sitting and moaning softly, savoring the flavors and aroma of Rosa's kitchen in this beautiful secret place, and
with great regret, we have to call it a day. We say our good byes and I head back down the mountain, to prepare for class. But what I really want
to do is take a nap.. Ahh.. tomorrow.. I can hardly wait!
Ciao.. Marty
©copyright 2008 Property of MJSturino,LLC
Any reproduction with-out the owners express written consent is strictly prohibited
Listen to this story in English
