September 21st

Miranda, me, and Michelle at Roccaverano

"We're going to see the 'black women,'" our driver told us. Her name was Donnatella. We had hopped into her car about five minutes before she made this statement, which was a response to Michelle's question about whether or not we were headed to a santuario.

The woman in the passenger seat was Mariolina, a friend of our host Pia. We met her the night before in the kitchen at Tenuto when she was helping us cook for the overflowing restaurant. Her mother was Dutch, so it was easier for her to learn English than it was for most Italians, or so she said. She gave us a standing invitation to her goat farm, and Michelle found her house this afternoon on her run. Upon returning, Michelle told Miranda and me that we would be going to a santuario with Mariolina at 4pm today. We were a bit late meeting her, and so we ran into Mariolina and Donnatella on the road to Mariolina's home. They were waving from the car, and so we jumped right in with a quick "ciao."

Donnatella had traveled to New York on business three years before, and she had many opinions about the city: It was great for work. It was awful for living. It never slept, and she needed her sleep. She met a fantastic boy there, but long-distance wasn't working for them. We had a lovely broken-English conversation about NYC with Mariolina as our translator. With the assistance of Mariolina, we also learned that the "black women" we were going to see were actually Catholic Sisters. The Sisters' habits were actually navy blue skirt suits, but still, I can understand that thought process.

They took us to the Santuario del Todocco in Alba. The church there was dedicated to Madonna Madre della Divina Grazia (Mary Mother of the Divine Mercy), which Michelle and I thought was awesome. It was pretty cool to see a picture that read "Gesu, Confido in Te" and know exactly what that means because we've seen it so often in English (Jesus, I trust in You). I'm pretty sure we went there only to make a natural medicine purchase. Donnatella spoke to the Sister at the door for a while, paid, and then walked away with a bottle of a concoction of grappa, aloe, and honey. It was supposedly good for all kinds of ailments. 

Then we got back in the car to head to Roccaverano, which is the highest point in the area and has a history dating back to the Roman Era. It consists of a little town dominated by a church, a bar, and a tower. The tower is part of a system of towers that used to be watch posts for barbarians trying to invade, according to our guides. It reminded me and Miranda of Lord of the Rings. The view was incredible! Have a look:

Mariolina showing off her cheese. She actually said "cheese"
for the picture...so American!

On the way home, we asked to be dropped of at the pizzeria in Cessole, but our drivers let us know that the ovens there don't get hot until 7:30pm, and so we would be wasting our time going early. Mariolina invited us into her home for some tea. We toured her grounds, met her goats, peeked inside her cheese-making room (which she converted from a wine cellar), met her two boys and Donnatella's son, and drank tea. We had quite the conversation about the song All About That Bass, which Donnatella likes because the women in the music video are clothed. We left soon after that part, as we were getting hungry.

The stairs of the tower at Roccaverano

Michelle and I finished out this unexpected day with pizza, wine, and great conversation. We also walked home in the dark, linked arm in arm, with only Michelle's trusty headlamp to guide us. (This wasn't the first time today that she resembled a coal miner.) We talked a lot about the one crazy person that, statistically, is bound to be lurking late at night in a town of 400 people, but we didn't find him.

As it turns out, we missed an eventful day at the farm. Our Swedish couple left without warning this afternoon. We five amateur American cooks are now expected to make a Swedish dinner for 25 of our hosts' friends on Tuesday night. We had to Google the word "lingonberry" for the lingonberry sauce the Swedes were going to use on their meatballs. We're not quite the professional chefs that our Swedish couple is.

I'd like to leave you with a video of the start of our day. This was midnight last night, in celebration of Earth, Wind, and Fire Day: