Ready for your close-up, Signor Gatto?

THE gatti (cats) of Anghiari are languid, haughty and proprietorial. They condescend to being photographed frequently by the many visitors who pass through this ancient Tuscan village. This photogenic setting is their turf.

Ginger, grey-and-white, black-and-white and variations on these themes, their fur is luxuriously morbido (soft). They bask and stretch on the cobbled walkways and peer out fetchingly from behind potted plants. They loll.

Signora Black-and-white: “Yawn. More paparazzi. All right then – if you must.”

Signor Grey-and-white: “Maybe if I look in the opposite direction they’ll go away.”

Signorina Ginger: “I'll just gaze into the distance, pensively.”

Anghiari people love their cats. Near a park, a sign I have translated says:

“Dear fellow cat lovers. In order to keep this area clean, please do not leave any pasta, litter, bones. Cat food only. Thank you.”

Nearby, a man leaves food for them under a little shelter most days.

Giugno is bustin’ out all over

Now that primavera has finally arrived, it has arrived with gusto. Jasmine and yellow broom flowers perfume the air, the sun scorches the skin. People are eating and drinking and chatting and laughing al di fuori, and shorts and sandals have suddenly appeared. Legs are back.

Food in the markets has changed. Nespole (loquats from Sicily) have gone, porcini mushrooms and asparagi (asparagus) have arrived. There might be just a week or two left for the fragrant fragole (strawberries) and delicious carciofi (artichokes).

I’ve learned how to make sformato, which is unfortunately translated blandly on menus as ‘vegetable pie’ or ‘vegetable flan’ when it’s really more of a soufflé, ideally light, like a cloud.

Armando, an excellent cook and gracious host (pictured below), showed me how to make it after I expressed an interest when he served it at dinner one night.

We met at il bar for a coffee on Wednesday morning before going to the weekly vegetable market for ingredients. Having decided on carciofi sformati (they can also be made with other vegetables, such as zucchini and spinach), we bought 10 medium-sized carciofi for five euros (about $A8), plus some fragole for dessert. Armando had the other ingredients at home.

I turn up at his place later in the day with some trepidation due to my limited Italian and the fact that Armando, while fluent in French, knows only a very few words of English. How will we manage? Fortunately, Carlo is here to interpret if needed.

You don't need to read the whole account here, but in case you're interested, I have put the recipe at the end of this blog.

Enough to say that Armando managed to put me quite at ease, and dinner was a success. "É facile!" ("It's easy!"), he'd say. Language certainly isn't everything. It's surprising how much communication can happen with very few words in common. Now I'm looking forward to cooking more sformati when I return to Australia, so come on over.

Armando, Carlo and l enjoyed a lovely dinner of insalata caprese, vitello (veal), asparagi and sformati, plus dessert, followed by one of my favourite things – live music. We sang uninhibited in their lovely garden with Carlo playing the guitar and searching his repertoire for songs I might know in English. There were plenty. What a great, relaxing evening, wonderful fun, and much appreciated. Grazie mille, miei cari amici.

Yours truly, relaxing before dinner in Carlo and Armando's garden.

Speaking of singing, one of my latest favourite things to do is to sing in an empty cathedral. Why not, as long as the song is respectful and no one is there to complain? The Duomo di Sansepolcro, where I went with my most recent Australian arrivals, John and Venita, with its enormous high ceilings, gave me this idea. Walking around whispering, it was obvious that sound carried very well there. So when the only other visitor had left the building, I positioned myself in the centre aisle and sang a few lines of Amazing Grace to find out just how good the acoustics were. Verdict: Extraordinary.

Living right now

As my final weeks in Anghiari are likely to zoom past, I am aiming to savour it as much as I can. A wise young friend said to me recently: “The way I look at it is that I don’t need to be worrying about the future because what I’m doing right now is what I used to look forward to.”

Still, planning – at least a bit – is important. I do worry a little about my next moves, but I am constantly mindful of how fortunate I am right now, doing this, in the present. I also remain grateful for the support of my good pals who have been in touch, and my lovely daughter and son-out-law.

Certainly the change in the weather here helps. My life in Anghiari is now more the way I imagined it would be before I left Australia – yoga in the mornings and lunches on my little terrace, walks in the sunshine… Evenings on that same terrace, with 'Lorenzo' chiming the hours… Deep blue night skies… Homework... My Italian slowly improving. Time to ponder, sort my priorities.

One of my pleasures here, and at home too for that matter, is listening to the New Orleans radio station WWOZ online while I cook. This week I was immensely saddened to hear that the great Dr John, aka Mack Rebennack, died on June 6 at the age of 77. I love that man’s work and have listened to him often, for years. What a gift he gave us.

Born in New Orleans, and following on from the fabulous Professor Longhair, Dr John carried forward the New Orleans sound over a career that spanned half a century. With songs including Right Place, Wrong Time; Such A Night; Iko Iko (you can immediately hear the tune of at least one of those in your mind right now, can't you?) and so many more, his voice is one of the most instantly recognisable in the world.

So while the news was sad, it was a real treat this week to hear one track after the other as WWOZ played a tribute to this unique musician, so important to New Orleans. Thanks for the music, Dr John. It will always live on, and you won't be forgotten.

A balmy night, dinner on my little terrace, thoughts of my friends and family, with the same moon watching over them.

To make sformati: We create individual sformati in flexible moulds that hold about three-quarters of a cup each. Armando has already prepared the carciofi by pulling off most of the outer leaves and the inner hairy ‘chokes’, and cutting the hearts and part of the stems into about 8 pieces each. These are then fried in olive oil with chunks of garlic plus parsley, mint, marjoram, salt, pepper and nutmeg. Medium heat, stir occasionally.

Meanwhile, Armando makes a béchamel sauce. When the carciofi are tender, the cooked mixture is blended by hand into a large bowl (using a mouli, or food mill). Add the béchamel sauce, stir in two eggs, about 40g of grated parmigiano and some vino bianco, then spoon into the moulds. (Our mixture fills six moulds.) These then go into a baking dish filled with water halfway up the sides of the moulds. Cook in a medium-hot oven for about 25 minutes. Turn out on plates and serve beside whatever you like as a main course. Ecco! (Voila!)