the warm wind from africa

The warm wind from Africa has arrived, melted the snow as quickly as it fell and we are now bathed in sunshine.
I could not imagine being in a more magical place for Christmas, with neighbours, friends and delicious, local food in the kitchen. I am cooking a Christmas Eve supper of Castellucio lentils, the taste of which is perfumed, subtle, earthy and makes me think of the beautiful high altitude plateau where they grow here, the feeling there not European at all, so remote and distant it is and quite breathtaking.

Auguri

Warmest Christmas wishes from Le Marche with love.

winter solstice

As we approach the winter solstice, the briefest day, the softest light I light the fires after lunch and look forward to all that is winter. To cosy evenings talking with friends, the twinkling of the chandelier, the lighting of our old brick oven, the watching of mozzarella melting, the tearing of pieces of panetone, the reading aloud of poems, the woollen blankets on the bed, outside the snow on the fields, the knowing we will swim in the lake next summer and the quiet waiting for spring. This I cherish, the hush of Le Marche winter.

mountain camomilla

Today I was in Montemonaco, 900 m altitude, view breathtaking, sprinkling of snow on the peaks. I was in search of honey and herbs and almost came home with a beautiful donkey. The family who cultivate and sell healing herbs and plants live just below the village, easy to find just off the road by the lake. I arrived and they were at home and took me to the barn where they dry and pack the herbs and flowers they have sown, nurtured and picked by hand. Camomilla, tiglio (limeflower), salvia, melissa and a soothing tisane of mixed herbs that is quite wonderful. I adore these caring teas from the mountains and visiting where they grow today has lifted my heart. All in neat rows on their south-facing fields above the water in full sun with breeze straight off the mountains. It must be the least polluted place you could wish for. It was when he was showing me his drying carciofi (artichokes) the farmer told me about his donkeys. He has three. Two are for sale. They were grazing in the sun in a meadow full of grass, had thick winter fur coats and gentle grey noses. Of course they belong there, together, but they stay in my thoughts as I sip my mountain camomilla.