Editor (now retired) returns to Italy with entire family

Our family of 16 in San Gemini, Italy

By Bill Lynch

(Note: This account was previously published in serial form in the Sonoma Index-Tribune, then edited to fit this blog.)

Exactly 10 years ago, Dottie and I inadvertently discovered the tiny hilltop village of San Gemini in southern Umbria. We stayed in an incredible villa built in the 17th century on top of Roman, then medieval, ruins and later owned and improved by the Italian sculptor, Canova, in the 1850s. Canova is long gone, but his villa has been preserved, with some modern conveniences, by the Grandjacquet family of Rome. A grand or great-grand patriarch of the family raised it from near ruin in the last century, and today the family keeps part of it for their part-time residence, and offers the rest as a vacation rental.

San Gemini is very small, covering an area roughly the size of the Sonoma Plaza.

During our first visit, which happened to be during the town's medieval festival in honor of its patron San Gemini, we were captivated by its unspoiled authenticity, and the warmth and graciousness of its residents. Dottie said to me then, "Some day I'd like to bring our whole family here."

At the time, our family consisted of us, four adult children, a daughter and son-in-law, and one grandchild. Today the family numbers 16, including seven grandchildren, ages 5 to 12.

And Dottie's wish came true in October when all 16 of us arrived in San Gemini in the middle of a thunderstorm and a festival set in the Middle Ages.

Since this is supposed to be a fishing column, I will tell you that the trout fishing nearby is good. The Nera River, a tributary of the Tiber, runs through the mountains, of which San Gemini is a part, and has trout in it willing to rise to a fly.

There is even a little fishing tackle place on the outskirts of town.

Part II

San Gemini doesn't appear to have changed much since our last visit, and the annual festival goes on. It is primarily a local affair and we are apparently the only Americans staying here in the village.

Our grandkids love it. Italians love children, and while the kids speak only a few words in Italian and the locals only a little English, they manage to communicate.

I've noticed that our youngest, 5-year-old Lily, is already repeating Italian words as though she grew up here. She may not understand what she is saying, but her accent sounds authentic.

Evening processions in costume were part of San Gemini festival

The village of San Gemini where our family of 16 was staying easily became familiar territory to our seven grandkids, ages 5 to 12. Very quickly, they learned the location of the gelato shop, which was also an espresso shop and bar, the little hole-in-the-wall pizza shop where pizza by the slice was one Euro, and the tobacco shop that also sold candy and something the locals call “poppers,” which are pea-sized pellets that pop like mini firecrackers when you throw them to the pavement.

With the town’s medieval festival in full swing, there were processions, drum corps, and guys dressed up like knights staging sword fights in the central piazza.

Most of this activity didn’t get going until well after dark and continued to midnight and beyond. Local parents with kids apparently had no concerns about their children being up so late and they gathered in small groups chatting as their kids slammed popper after popper into the stones in the square.

Naturally our grand kids mixed right in while we sampled Umbrian wine and grappa in the sidewalk cafe.

Our villa was a short, but steep, walk up a narrow stone-paved walkway plus several flights of stairs, giving us an opportunity to walk off some of the pasta, pizza and gelato we consumed each night.

The only thing that dampened (literally) the evenings were some spectacular electrical storms that shook the walls, rattled the windows and sent us inside the taverns as the rain came down in sheets.

Periodically the lights would go out, everyone gave a cheer and the celebrating continued.

Mario Marini shows us how to make pasta from scratch

Our first group adventure beyond the old stone walls was into the Nera River Valley, where I fished for trout later in the week. But this day, our guide, Matteo Marini, drove us high up into the very top of the Apennine Mountains to the home his father and uncle built in the forest.

There, Matteo’s father, Mario, gave us all a lesson in making pasta and pasta sauce from scratch, as well as instruction on several other fantastic Italian dishes, including fried zucchini blossoms and wood-oven roasted pork. Mario and his wife, Joanna, finished the preparations and served us all one of the best Italian meals we ever had.

Jake and Lily Cholko make pasta

Long, delicious dinners rich in conversation and wine

This is "slow food" country and we spent more than four hours sharing food, wine and conversation.

Matteo, who offers these very special and intimate cooking and dining experiences, has a website, culinaryholidays.com. He is a great guy and a fabulous guide. Two nights later, we invited him, his wife, Benedetta, and son, Lorenzo, to our place for dinner. And the night after that, some of our adult children spent the evening enjoying highlights of the nearby city of Terni with Matteo, Benedetta and their friends.

I think we’ve made some very nice Italian friends.

Jennifer Murphy writes down one of Mario's recipes

Part III

Chocolate on cookies and just about everything.

Maximilliano shows Joey Cholko how to squeeze out the ganache

Fishing with flies for trout who eat anything,

Truffles on pasta and mushrooms on pizza,

These are a few of my favorite things.

With apologies to Rogers and Hammerstein, I proclaim that the hills of Italy are alive with delights for the stomach and spirit, and our family group of 16, including seven grand kids 5 to 12, shamelessly enjoyed as many of them as we could.

A day or so after Mario Marini taught us how to make pasta and pasta sauce from scratch, we drove up the road about 40 kilometers to Perugia, where Maximillano Guidubaldi, Il Maestro of the Perugina Chocolate Factory, had us virtually drenched in rich dark chocolate sauce while he taught us how to make truffles somewhat like the world-famous Baci (chocolate truffles) that put Perugia on the culinary map.

Chris Murphy and daughter Celeste, and Dottie Lynch and grandson Evan squeeze out ganache

Each of us, including the children, had our own cooking counter, a large bowl of delicious chocolate sauce, and the tools we would learn to use in the ancient art of truffle making.

Maximillano didn't give away all of his secrets, but did provide us with the basic recipe for the ganache (filling) of the truffles and showed us how to squeeze a piping bag filled with the semi-liquid into little chocolate kisses that would later be the center of our truffles.  We each did this with varying rates of success.  All of the kids, including five-year-old Lily were better at it than me.

Kate Murphy made really good looking truffles

The next step involved heating the liquid dark chocolate to a specific temperature and then "tempering" it by pouring it onto the marble counter and moving it around with a scraper to cool it back down.  This process, which takes several steps, apparently allows the chocolate to keep its rich deep brown color and consistency as it hardens around the ganache kisses we dipped into it several minutes after the tempering process.

Many Sonoma cooks know this process, but to almost all of us (except Dottie) it was a revelation.  We all made fairly passable truffles, which we were allowed to box up and take with us, along with individual graduation certificates that declared each of us a Master of Cioccologia and graduate of the La Scuola del Cioccolato Perugina.

Many of the kids joined me in liberally sampling all of the ingredients used during the truffle-making, and as a result accomplished something I never thought could happen – we ate so much chocolate during the lesson that we actually turned down the many free samples we were offered during our tour of the huge factory (largest in Europe), which followed our graduation.

Part IV

Suffering from what can only be described as a chocolate hangover the next morning, I was picked up at the stone gates of San Gemini by my fishing guide Luca Castellani.

Luca Castellani was my guide on the Nera River

Luca, a former businessman turned fishing guide, specializes in fly-fishing on select rivers in Umbria and Tuscany.

It was cool and drizzly as we wound our way on a narrow road into the Apennine Mountains and the canyon through which the Nera River flows south and west eventually feeding into the Tiber River, which runs through Rome to the sea.

After an hour or so we stopped in the small streams-side village of Borgo

Cerreto where I purchased my Italian fishing license.  From there it was a short walk to the lovely little, tree-lined spring-creek that is the Nera River.

As we approached the stream, I could see many trout, including some big ones, lazily feeding in the crystal-clear water.  Bugs of various kinds and sizes were flitting around and over the river, and some of the trout rose to engulf them.

I felt like I was fishing in a very old place.

"This is going to be a good day," I thought to myself, as Luca led me to our starting point.

The stream that was no bigger than Sonoma Creek; although unlike Sonoma Creek, the Nera runs cool and clear all year long, providing a safe, natural habitat for the German brown trout that thrive in its waters.

Bugs skimmed over the water with trout in eager pursuit.  Most of the rising fish were in the eight to 12 inch range, but below them in the slightly deeper water, I could see much larger fish.  Some looked to be more than two feet long.

Luca was most interested in finding a place where I might hook one of the bigger ones, while I was eager to just wade in and start casting to the ones I saw rising.

(Side note: Because  I didn’t want to pack my waders, boots, rods, etc., Luca provided them as part of his service at no extra charge)

The trees are thick and tall. In many places they overlap the water completely so that the river appears to be flowing through a green tunnel rather than a mountain canyon.

Several old stone-arched bridges (the first editions of which were probably built 2,000 years ago by the Romans) span the stream.

Because it was drizzling slightly, Luca led me to a pool under one of the bridges. He spotted a big fish lazily feeding in relatively quiet water.  I started with a little grey mayfly imitation that seemed close to what was flying around us.

The trees made casting a little tight, but roll casts worked much of the time.

The first big trout saw my fly, swam to it, sniffed, and turned away. If I trout could talk, that one would have said, “No way, Bill. You’re going to have to do better than that.”

My first ever Italian trout

The water was so clear I wondered if anything could fool them into taking an imitation, especially with so much other real food flying about.

But I flailed away and Luca kept changing flies and eventually I enticed a medium-small trout to take my offering.  He was about eight inches, but the first trout I ever caught in Italy.

“Ciao, baby.” I said to the little guy as we let him go.  “Send us your papa.”

Luca and I spent most of the morning trying for the big guys, but only getting the smaller ones to bite.  I did land one brown that was about 16 inches, but the really big monsters didn’t seem to want to play.

This restaurant was right on the river in Borgo Cerreto

At about 1 pm Luca and I strolled up the stream bank where the owners of Ristorante da Roberto Al Casaletto warmly greeted us. Luca ordered for both of us. We started with some nice red Umbrian wine and thin slices of very lightly seasoned cold-smoked trout, followed by some sausage and other meats, crustini and olives, and then by incredibly tasty pasta with black truffles.

In all my years of fishing, I have never had a lunch as delicious as this one.

Luca and I took our time enjoying lunch, and I found myself somewhat ambivalent about going back to work on the river.

Nevertheless, we strolled back down to the water and spent a few more hours trying to get one of those big monster browns to take my fly, but only managed to hook their little brothers.

I paused often to take in the pretty little stream, surrounding trees and old bridges, guessing that many centuries of anglers had passed this way before me.

It was a good day of catching and an even better day of just fishing in a beautiful place with a great guy like Luca to guide me. I highly recommend him as your guide.

Part V 

Luca guides on five different fly-fishing areas in the Umbria and Tuscany region.  They include a tailwater fishery on the Tevere, the Santa Susanna River and the Velino River, plus one part of the Nera. Luca’s website is www.lucacastellani.it.   
With his help, and that of my other Italian friend, Matteo Marini (culinaryholidays.com),  you could plan a wonderful combo food, culture and fishing stay in either Umbria or Tuscany and do a lot more than just visit the typical tourist spots.
Matteo's culinary experiences take place in a private home and are much more intimate and authentic than a typical restaurant in Orvieto, Perugia, Assisi and other well-known and well-visited cities in the region.
That doesn’t mean that we didn’t visit those famous sites and enjoy dining out there.
We did.  In fact, when we didn’t have a daytime group activity planned, our family of 16 broke up into smaller groups and took off in various directions.
Some of our kids and grandkids even took a day-trip by train to Florence.  Joey, our oldest grandson at 12, was so impressed with Florence that he wants to spend a college-year there.
Meanwhile back in our little village of San Gemini, the two-week-long medieval festival continued, with most of the activities occurring at night.
Because the roads in this mountainous region are narrow and winding, we opted not to drive out after dark to a restaurant.  Instead, we enjoyed our dining-out lunches in places like Spoletto, Assisi, Montefalco, and Orvieto, and then returned to the village for a family dinner.

Ryan and Rachel Lynch sharing an Umbrian wine discovery

Just a few flights of stairs and a steep driveway below us was the small central piazza and narrow street (Via Roma), on which the town merchants had their shops.
Most were tiny, no larger than a one-car garage.  There was a butcher shop, a fruit and vegetable shop, a fresh pasta store, pizza place,  a bakery, and a general grocery store where you could buy milk, eggs, wine, etc.

Kids dined in Villa's tower dining room with vistas of Umbria

We’d come back from touring, usually in later afternoon, decide who was cooking and then go down to the stores, visiting each shop to pick up the ingredients for dinner. 
Because the festival celebrations got going fairly late, we often didn’t eat until 8 or 8:30. Dinner was a chance to share the various experiences each family group had during the day.
Virtually every night there was some kind of event in the piazza, often involving costumed local residents in some kind of procession.

Drums led processions virtually every night while we were there

One night there was an incredible fireworks display.  Because our villa had a tower, and was located at the very top of the highest point in the hilltop town, the fireworks, launched from the soccer field down below us, burst at our eye-level.  Just far enough away to be safe, we still felt like we were in middle of the bursting bombs and shooting stars.  Our kids and grand kids had never experienced anything like it.

Part VI

Imagine the biggest football game of the year against your crosstown rival at homecoming. That was the mood in San Gemini on the final Sunday of the town’s two-week medieval festival.  It featured a joust between the Roccas and the Piazzas.  The Roccas are the residents who live inside the original old walls of San Gemini (built between the 10th and 12th Century, plus or minus a few centuries), while the Piazzas are the newcomers, whose part of town was added sometime later (14th or 15th Centuries?)
They call it “Giostra dell’ Arme,” – a joust (sort of), involving modern-day knights carrying lances on horseback. It takes place in an arena (one-third sized soccer field) with hundreds of townspeople screaming for blood (O.K. Maybe blood is too strong a word, but there was lots of screaming).
A dirt track runs around the small soccer field.
Our brood of adult kids and grandkids, 5 to 12, got there early to get a good seat.
We were staying in the Rocca part of town, wore Rocca colors (red and blue) and sat in the middle of the Rocca cheering section.
To our right several rows over and on the bend of the track were the Piazza townsfolk, decked out in green and gold.
As the procession of royals began, a bunch of the younger folks in our section put red scarfs over their noses and mouths and set off smoke bombs. Billows of thick red and blue smoke engulfed us.  Chants in Italian (probably “kill the Piazzas”) rang out, as we coughed and sputtered, trying not to breath.
After the smoke cleared and the royals were seated, there was a synchronized  flag-throwing demonstration and then the introduction of the jousters.
Each team consisted of three men on horseback carrying long lances.  They were not in armor but did wear little rider’s helmets.
It was a contest of horsemanship, speed, balance and accuracy.
On one side of the track was an L shaped pole from which was suspended a hoop about the diameter of a woman’s hoop earring.  At the beginning of the opposite straightaway was a two-part speed trap to calculate the start and finish of the rider’s run.
One at a time, each rider made a three-quarter run around the track, with the horse accelerating through the speed trap, made the very tight turn at nearly a full gallop, aimed his lance at the little hoop and snared it on the end of his lance then continued around the next turn at a gallop while shifting the lance into a throwing position. Heading full tilt down the final straightaway, he hurled the lance into a target that resembled one you’d used for archery, but onto which the opponents coat of arms had been painted.  They earned points for snaring the ring, speed, and how close their lance got to the center.
The horses were powerful and agile. They needed to be because the track was narrow and very short (perhaps an 8th of a mile long), and the turns very tight. Everyone cheered madly – loudest when the lance hit near the center of the target.
Each rider had three tries and scores were accumulated.  Round-by-round, It went on for two hours.

A jouster makes final turn in Giosta 'dell Arme

At the end of two rounds Piazza was leading by a few points, but in the third round, one of the Rocca horses seemed to fly around the track. Its rider snared the hoop, leaned into the turn while changing his grip and fired his lance almost dead center, earning the highest score of the day, and putting Rocca ahead with one Piazza rider to go.
He valiantly raced around the track even faster than his Rocca opponent, but his horse skidded and fell on the second turn.  Fortunately neither he nor his horse were injured, but Piazza lost points for the fall and Rocca won the contest amid ear-shattering cheers from our section of the stands.
It was an event that our grandkids will never forget, and marked the end of our stay in San Gemini.  Our next stop would be Rome.
(Note: If you decide to visit Umbria, which I strongly recommend, you must read a book by Ian Campbell Ross, an English professor at Trinity College in Ireland.  The title is "Umbria - A tour through its history, landscape, architecture, food and wine." In some editions its title was simply "Umbria - A Cultural History." You can find it on Amazon. Your experience in Umbria will be enhanced greatly by reading Professor Ross' excellent book.

Part VII

After 10 days in the lovely little village of San Gemini in Umbria, most of our family headed south to Rome (our son, Ryan, and daughter-in-law, Rachel headed north to Paris and then on to Berlin to visit old friends there).
The remainder of our group boarded a train in Terni. One and a half hours later we arrived at Termini, the central station in Rome.  Not enough can be said about how great train travel is in countries like Italy, France, Spain and England, compared to the U.S.
An odyssey in three taxis via narrow streets that crisscross old Rome like fractures in a cracked plate brought us to our apartment near Piazza Borghese. It was a very nice, large and comfortable flat with plenty of bedrooms and bathrooms for us all.  It was almost too close to the most popular tourist sites, but that made it nice for sight-seeing, even if the crowds were significant in some places.
Walking was by far the most efficient means of getting around, except for cross-town travel, for which the Metro was excellent.  It was the first time on a subway for our grand kids and they seemed perfectly comfortable with the dense crowds and hustle into and out of the subway trains.
Our first group activity involved a Metro ride to the Coliseum for a tour of Old Rome with Lucia, a very pretty Roman woman who spoke English with a Liverpool (Beatles-like) accent. Born and raised in Rome, she spent several years in England before returning to her hometown and becoming a guide for Nancy Aiello Tours (nancyaiellotours.com).

Grand kids and the gladiators, Rome, Italy

The kids took to her immediately. She had a way of explaining the ancient history of Rome in a way that kept them captivated during our more than three hours of walking through the Coliseum and the many parts of the old forum. 
After the coliseum part of the tour, during which she told all about the gladiator fights, lions, tigers, etc., she persuaded three of the guys in gladiator costumes to pose with the kids for a photo, for which they normally charge quite a bit. They waived the charge, but we tipped them anyway. Years from now our grandchildren will look at that photo, remember the trip with us, smile and tell their kids about it.
Since this is a fishing column, I should mention that the forum is fairly close to the Tiber River, and although I didn’t fish it, some folks try. Lucia told us that in the ancient days, when old folks like Dottie and I got to a certain age, the younger generation would just chuck them into the Tiber, presumably because food was scarce and it was one or more less mouths to feed. I guess it paid to learn to swim in those days.
We ended our Old Rome tour about 1 p.m. and Lucia directed us to her favorite pizza place, Forno Boscioli.  It was in the old Jewish section of the city several blocks from the forum.  The streets were even narrower there.
We saw lots of interesting old buildings and partially excavated Roman ruins. The many sidewalk cafes in the area were packed with locals and tourists.
Lucia was right, Forno’s pizza was delicious, but then we’ve never really had a bad meal anywhere in Rome. 
Dottie and I were tired after walking what seemed miles and headed back to the apartment, but our adult kids and the youngsters went on to check out the Trevi Fountain, the Pantheon, Piazza Narvona, and various other sites.
I was in awe of the children’s stamina and interest in what I had assumed might bore them.  They loved Rome.

                                          

Part VIII

No trip to Rome would be complete without a visit with the Pope, whose country, The Vatican, is surrounded by a city founded by heathens. While heathens still abound, they are outnumbered by Italian Catholics, who consider The Vatican also their country, and St. Peter’s as their church.
Pope Francis was not receiving visitors from Sonoma on the day we stopped by, but thanks Lucia, our tour guide, we had passes to the Vatican Museum and Sistine Chapel, exiting into St. Peter’s.

Kate Murphy awed by St. Peter's

Lucia created a game for each of our grandkids that challenged them to find objects in the museum that were described in her list of clues.  The kids, being ever competitive, eagerly played the game. What could have been a long and tedious tour through a crowded museum was made entertaining as well as informative.
Lucia gave credit to Pope Julius II (Pope from 1503 - 1513) for starting the process by which the Vatican acquired and restored a huge collection of ancient art. Julius, known as the “Warrior Pope,” was also a patron of Michelangelo, and persuaded the artist to paint part of the Sistine Chapel.
My attention span being shorter than the average six-year-old, I found the tour to be a tiring ordeal of walking and jostling through crowds, especially so in the Sistine Chapel, which was impressive, but also jammed full of other visitors.  I most enjoyed the periodic respites that Lucia suggested, when we’d stop, gather ‘round her and she’d tell us a story of how a specific work of art had come to be there and how the various successors to Julius didn’t always admire his taste in art.
After three hours of walking, stopping, being elbowed by other tourists and needing to use the bathroom, I was ready for the fresh air in the grand expanse of St. Peter’s Basilica and Square.  The kids, on the other hand, were eager to see more.
I wonder if years from now, when and if schools still teach art appreciation, if the Vatican tour and their visit to Florence will make them far more appreciative of Renaissance art than I ever was in school. 
All that walking generated an appetite, and there was no shortage of places to fill that need.

Singing along with musicians at Da Meo Pataca, Rome

We made reservations one night at Da Meo Pataca, a lively somewhat touristy restaurant in the Trastevere part of Rome. Ken and Pat McTaggart first introduced us to Da Meo Pataca ten years ago.  While the food is classic Italian and good, the primary reason we took the kids there was the entertainment.  A quartet of musicians circulate throughout the restaurant all evening, serenading diners and inviting them into singing along to popular Italian-American classics like That’s Amore and Volare.  Sophisticated it is not, but a lot of fun.
There is always something new to see in Rome. Dottie and I took a metro ride out to E.U.R. Built in the late 1930s by dictator Benito Mussolini, it was supposed to show off the modern wonders of fascism, but then World War II came, and the massive, stark, unfinished, 1984-ish looking city within a city wasn’t finished until the 1950s.  In contrast to old Rome, it has tall, sterile office buildings in an Italian modernist style, laid out in a grid with wide boulevards. Architects may be impressed, but to me it seemed cold and devoid of passion and human touches.
The best thing there, and reason enough to go, is the Museum of Roman Civilization. This well-planned and easy to walk museum is huge and uncrowded. You can spend many hours there viewing the story of Rome from prehistoric times to present, with artifacts from each era on display.

Our dream trip of a lifetime was just that

All good vacations eventually end.  Happy, stuffed with Italian food and very tired, we all flew home 14 days after our arrival.  For Dottie and me, the pleasure we took in having our entire family with us was beyond measure – the dream trip of a lifetime. 
We know our adult children appreciated it, but most importantly, so did our seven grand children 5 to 12. 
Who knows how much of an impression it made or if it changed them.  But we took great joy in what Joey, our oldest (12), said to his mom when they got home – “It was the best two weeks of my life.”