Only in Louisville...

I was born and grew up in Louisville, Ky. I (wrongfully) assumed that everyone knew of – and loved – pimento cheese, benedictine cheese, The-Pie-Which-Shall-Not-Be-Named, and Henry Bain sauce. I've written about the first three of these Louisville originals before, so it seemed only fair to introduce you to Henry Bain.

Mr. Bain (1863-1928), the creator of this piquant, tangy, brown condiment, was a head waiter at the private Pendennis Club in downtown Louisville. He developed the sauce for steaks and locally killed game. Legend has it that the all-male club members would routinely bring their kills to the club to be cooked and sauced with the magical Henry Bain sauce.

My grandfather was a member (and long-ago President) of the Pendennis Club so I have lots of memories of dining at this club. (For many years, membership was only open to males. All female guests had to enter the club via the side door. At some point, that rule was dropped; my grandfather however, insisted that my sisters and I continue to observe the old tradition. Out of respect for him, I did – rather begrudgedly. I'm pleased to report that today, the membership is far more diverse than in my grandfather's day and, when invited, I proudly enter by the front door.)

I've seen some jars of Henry Bain sauce for sale at local grocers and specialty food stores; but here's the thing: it is simple to make. You just dump 6 ingredients from the condiment aisle of Kroger into a bowl, mix it up, and funnel it into jars. That's what I did in about 10 minutes last night. I used recycled maple syrup jars and here's the result of my efforts:

I need to figure out how to print a Farm Dover label and then I'm all set to give four lucky people a bottle of this Louisville tradition.

In addition to being delicious on a steak or chop, you can simple pour some over a block of cream cheese and serve with crackers. 

Here's the recipe that I used...
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Henry Bain Sauce

ingredients
1 (17 ounce) jar Major Grey chutney
1 (14 ounce) bottle of ketcup
1 (10 ounce) bottle of Worcestershire sauce
1 (12 ounce) bottle chili sauce
1 (10 ounce) bottle of A1 Steak Sauce
A couple of dashes of Tabasco Sauce

preparation
Mix all together and pour into sterile jars.

Note: the original recipe also calls for 4.5 ounces of pickled walnuts. In all the recipes I found, it was considered an optional ingredient. I suspect that is because this ingredient is hard to find nowadays. 

I'm lucky

I can count my very best friends on one hand, and I know I can count on each of them whenever I need them, and vice versa.

One of my best and oldest friends is Jane. I met her just out of college. She interviewed me for a job at a local bank, made sure I got a job offer, introduced me to Ed, and to a whole new world of art and books. She changed my life – all for the better.

A few years into our friendship, she moved to England, but we stayed in touch – mostly via long handwritten letters on airmail stationery. A decade later, she moved back to her hometown: Berea, a suburb of Cleveland, Ohio, where she opened a small gift/antique shop. Since then, she has worked a number of jobs, most in bookstores. She's a genius about remembering not only my birthday, but those of my whole family. We talk by phone once a month or so: fill each other in on our lives; trade favorite book recommendations; and promise to get together soon.

On Sunday, she drove down from Tiffin, Ohio, where she currently lives with her cat, Pippin. We spent the next 48 hours walking, and talking, and eating, and catching up. Yesterday, we drove into Louisville to go to the KMAC (Kentucky Museum of Art and Craft) but found it closed for renovation. So we crossed Main Street to have a look around the 21c Museum Hotel. After doing a bit of shopping, we went to my Louisville book club meeting. In preparation for her visit, Jane had read the Raymond Chandler book that we were discussing and fell right in with my other book-loving friends.

at 21c

This morning, we took one final walk around Farm Dover in the misty rain, enjoyed an early lunch of bean soup, and then posed on the front step for a photo to prove that we really were together – and not just talking over the phone.

I watched as she drove down our drive and thought about how lucky I am to have Jane as my friend.

Come back soon, Jane.

My hearts-a-bustin'

Since we've been home from our travels, Ed and I have been busy working the woods, fields, and gardens of Farm Dover.

In our woods, we are playing catch up with controlling the invasive species that like to reappear every time we turn our back (or go out of town for three weeks). Specifically, we been tackling the bush honeysuckle, osage orange and multiflora wild roses. Don't all those plants have lovely names? Don't be fooled by them. They are crazy, and meddlesome, and nearly impossible to get rid of.

Most days, we head out shortly after breakfast with our shovel, clippers, chainsaw and loppers. If we can dig the plant out, Ed digs – and I pull. If it is too big or too stubborn, Ed clips or chainsaws it down to the ground – and I apply the smallest amount of stump killer. Hate to use the herbicide, but if we just clip the target plant, it comes back with a vengeance.

Our work has several upsides. It improves not only the health of our forests, but also of us: it's great exercise. It's satisfying: there is something about getting rid of pesky plants so native plants can thrive. And, perhaps best of all, we get to know our woods intimately as we slowly work our way over every square inch of our farm. Almost every time we go out, we discover something of interest. This week, we came upon a bush aptly called Hearts-a-Bustin'. On its now bare limbs hang the most beautiful pink and red fruit/seed. In an otherwise neutral forest, the color pops – making my heart almost bust with joy.

Turns out there is a song about this bush by country music singer and songwriter Billy Joe Shaver. Here's a link to the song, sung by one of our all-time favorites: Jimmie Dale Gilmore. Like most country songs, it's all about being lonesome.

Hearts-a-Bustin' is a beautiful flower

That looks like its heart burst inside

I miss you so much, your sweet gentle touch

I'll love you till the day that I die. 

..........................

We spent this afternoon walking our fields with Margaret Shea, owner of Dropseed Native Plant Nursery, located in Goshen, KY. The mission of the nursery is to provide high-quality, local-genetic plant material for restoration and landscape projects. We met Margaret this past weekend when we stopped by Dropseed and bought two persimmon trees, one yellowwood tree and one wild plum tree. She agreed to come out to Farm Dover and give us some recommendations for how we might continue to improve our fields of native grasses and wildflowers. Today, she mostly just walked around our fields and talked with us about our vision for them. She has promised to follow up with her recommendations. Can't wait to see what she comes up with.

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Progress has been happening in the garden as well. Although if you looked at it, you couldn't tell. I finally got my garlic planted over the weekend. I placed nearly 80 cloves in neat rows in the back corner and covered them with a couple of inches of soil. I'm waiting for them to sprout before covering them with straw to protect them from the winter cold.

And I began digging up my old strawberry bed. After five productive seasons, the plants had grown too dense and the bed needed to be rejuvenated. But the old plants looked so healthy once I had dug them up and separated them that I didn't have the heart to just dump them onto the compost pile. So, as an experiment, I planted 45 of them in a corner of my big garden. Won't know until spring if this was a good idea or not.

I've got three bales of straw to put down in my garden in the continued hope that it helps keep the summer weeds at bay. Ideally I'd like to put down plain cardboard before the straw, but I've yet to find a supply of brown corrugated boxes that need recycling. Let me know if you have some you could provide for this project.

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The days are getting shorter and colder, but our list of outdoor projects is still long. I'm grateful for every day that we can get outside and work our woods, fields and gardens. It makes my heart want to bust!

Oh, Lard!

I had quite the homesteading experience this week. I rendered three pounds of pork fat into eight jars of white, odorless lard. You heard me right. Lard.

There has been a bag of hunks of pig fat sitting in the bottom of our freezer since last December when we purchased half of a heritage hog. It had been weighing on my mind. I've been trying to eat through our freezer so I can defrost and then refill it. Pork chops, gone. Sausage, gone. Ham, gone. Pork shoulder, gone. All that was left were a couple of packages of pork skin, some liver, and a bag of leaf lard: the highest quality fat deposits that surround the pig's kidneys. I've been told that it has little pork flavor, making it ideal for producing flaky, moist pie crusts.

Mind you, I've never made a homemade pie crust and I certainly have never rendered lard. But there is always a first time...

Before I tell you how I did it, I want to back up and admit that cooking with pork fat has long been a tradition in the Galloway family. When I first met Ed, I had no idea how to cook anything other than plain pasta, but he knew his way around the kitchen. On his stove top was a tin can into which he would pour his bacon drippings. A similar tin can also sat on his mother's stovetop and, in years past, both his grandmothers'. Ed would use a spoonful of the room-temperature bacon fat to cook a pork chop, brown some onions for chili, or fry an egg. I was baffled by this practice -- and a little concerned that I might die from it, which I didn't!

Fast forward 35 years and turns out that pork fat (lard) is back in fashion among chefs, especially southern chefs. We dined at Husk in Charleston, S.C., last winter and had the most delicious cornbread, made with – you guessed it – lard. I bought a can at Kroger and made a skillet of cornbread using Chef Sean Brock's recipe.  It was good, but not as good as at Husk. I suspected it was the quality of lard, as most that is sold at a supermarket is rendered from a mixture of high and low quality pork fat sources. It is also hydrogenated and treated with bleaching and deodorizing agents. Yuck.

By rendering my own lard, I could get high quality fat that I could feel good about using. In fact, the lard I produced (unhydrogenated) has less saturated fat, more unsaturated fat, and less cholesterol than an equal amount of butter by weight. And unlike many margarines and vegetable shortenings, it contains no trans fat. Almost sounds healthy, right?

Rendering the lard required dicing it into small pieces and cooking it in my crockpot over low heat for hours and hours. As the fat melted, I ladled it into canning jars, which I later froze. At the end of the process, I was left with a cup or two of cracklins (which I'm still trying to figure out what to do with).

Once I was done, I couldn't wait to cook with it. Using the Husk restaurant recipe, I cooked up a cast-iron skillet full of cornbread. Thanks to the lard, it was crispy on the outside, soft and moist on the inside. 

Now, I just need to tackle a pie crust. Wish me luck.

And then there is the question about what to do with the pig skin and liver, still in the freezer. Any suggestions?

More than skin deep

Beauty is more than skin deep.

– often quoted by my mother to her four girls

Yesterday, while the sun was shining, I was picking the last of the apples off my neighbor's ancient apple tree. They were a far cry from the perfectly polished, unblemished apples that you find at the grocery. Misformed and splotchy they might be; but once I peeled and cored the apples, and cut out the bad spots, they filled my crockpot to the brim. Now the aroma of bubbling applesauce is filling my kitchen.

Tomorrow morning, Ed will get up early and patiently cook a pot of steel-cut oats, stirring every five minutes for what seems like a very long time. I'll get up late and enjoy a bowl of homemade oatmeal with warm applesauce on top. Can't wait.

Currying Favor with Curry Flavor

It's Meatless Monday and I'm back to working out what to cook. Ed would be totally happy with a plate of vegetables (especially in the summertime – so long as it included sliced tomatoes). But I like to curry favor with him, so I've settled on cooking a pumpkin curry.

The basis for my creation is this recipe I found on Love & Lemons, but of course, I changed it around a bit as I am incapable of following directions.

I started with one of the buff colored Long Island Cheese pumpkins that I grew in my patch.

I sliced it in half and roasted it for about 45 minutes. Look at that color of its insides.

I also roasted the seeds and have been snacking on them all day.

Until a year or two ago, I could probably count on one hand the number of times that I had eaten curries. That was before our trip to Thailand, where I was enthralled with the multitude of delicious curries we were served.

I'm sure there is much for me to learn to make an authentic Thai curry, but, in the meantime, I've found a short cut: red curry paste that I find at the Shelbyville Kroger store in the Asian aisle. A couple of teaspoons is all it takes to warm up a dish with Thai flavors. It's made from a mash of red chilies, coriander roots and leaves, lemon grass, garlic shallots and galangal. (If you read the fine print, it also contains a bit of shrimp paste, which technically puts my Meatless Mondays in jeopardy. Yikes!)

To the curry paste, I added a can of coconut milk, a squeeze of lime and a teaspoon of the fancy salt/pepper blend that my friend Steve brought me from his recent travels to Spain. I cooked some brown rice, baked some tofu, and steamed some broccoli and green beans. 

I layered the rice, curry sauce, tofu and vegetables into our lunch bowls. It was both beautiful and tasty. The perfect lunch for cold fall day. 

Get Out of Your Comfort Zone

Last Monday marked our 30th anniversary. For us, it was a bit like Mary's childhood birthday celebrations: we celebrated and celebrated, beginning with our Italy trip and continuing last week with a fly fishing trip to Arkansas. We had planned our Ozark trip at least a year ago, before Italy, before the Czech Republic, before NYC. Had we known about those trips, we may have opted to stay home and enjoy our time at Farm Dover. Instead, we packed the car and headed west for a week. I'm glad we did.

While we were traveling, sister Sherry forwarded me an article from The Wall Street Journal about how to enhance cognitive function. (These are the kind of articles we circulate among the sisters in the hopes that we can somehow ward off ending up like our mom who suffered so from Alzheimer's.) The gist of the article was that by getting out of your comfort zone and learning new skills, one might show improvements in memory and processing speed. Something about tapping more diffuse brain circuits and pathways to compensate for age-related deficits.

It seems our travels afford lots of opportunities for Ed and me to get out of our comfort zone and learn new skills – or at least see new sights and experience different cultures. This trip was no exception. Once we crossed the Mississippi near Wickliffe, KY, I felt a bit like Dorothy: "I've a feeling we're not in Kentucky anymore." Stretched before us in all directions were cotton fields. I thought they were spectacularly beautiful; I made Ed pull over so I could make a photo, or two, or ten.

Our first destination was Norfolk, Arkansas where we hiked and fished the White River for two days. Because we only fly fish a couple of times a year, it seems I need to relearn the basis skills every time. Chalk one up for my brain development.

From there, we drove to Bentonville, corporate headquarters for Walmart. Don't get me started, but just know that I am not a fan of Walmart stores and believe they have done much to destroy small-town USA. Having said that, the Walton family has given much back to the small town of Bentonville. We stayed the night at the very hip and very fun 21c Museum Hotel and toured the Crystal Bridges Museum of American Art, founded by Alice Walton. We had two excellent meals in the downtown square: a late lunch at Oven & Tap and dinner at Tusk & Trotter.

The last part of our trip we spent at Petit Jean State Park, where we rented a cabin. We made some good hikes; cooked some simple meals; read some good books and enjoyed the fall colors and beautiful sunsets (as well as the antics of a funny armadillo that lives in the back yard of our cabin).

On our way home, we stopped in Nashville to visit the Country Music Hall of Fame; checked out the independent bookstore, Parnassus (co-owned by bestselling author Ann Patchett); and met up with long-time friends, Wade and Lacy, for dinner.

At noon today, we turned into our drive.

We were back in our comfort zone.

Octobers

“I'm so glad I live in a world where there are Octobers.”

– L. M. Montgomery, Anne of Green Gables 

I agree with Anne. I'm also glad to live in a world where there are Octobers – especially Octobers as beautiful as this one at Farm Dover. 

Even poison ivy and spiders look beautiful in the autumn light.

But here's the best thing about this October at Farm Dover: we had all three kids at home for one weekend. Too short; but very sweet.

Meatless Mondays

We woke to a quiet and cold house this mid-October morning. Quiet because Jack left this weekend to go back to his life in China and cold because we slept with the windows and doors open and I'd not yet placed a winter quilt on our bed. Not only was it quiet and cold, but it was also Monday, which meant that I needed to figure out our meatless meals. I slipped on my favorite fuzzy robe and started taking stock of options for our Meatless Monday.

Our refrigerator was mostly empty; our pantry nearly bare; and our freezer was down to its last offerings (as I've been trying to eat our way through it). Hmmm...nothing like a good challenge.

Our neighbors had given us some purple eggplants and I still had a couple of white ones from our garden. I had sweet potatoes and butternut squash in abundance, along with a handful of end-of-the-season peppers.

I recalled a vegetarian chili that friend Karen would make and share with us when we were next-door neighbors. Inspiration was slowly coming. I kept looking.

I found one can of black beans and one of red ones, a can of green chopped green chiles and almost a cup of quinoa. No tomatoes, but then I remembered that I had some roasted tomato sauce in the basement freezer. While rooting around for the tomato sauce, I came upon a package of corn and one of diced onions. I grabbed a bulb of garlic from the basement basket. Once back upstairs,  I pulled four canisters from the spice drawer: cumin, smoked paprika, chili pepper and coriander. For good measure, I plucked the last lime from our fruit bowl and an avocado that desperately needed eating today. I was in business.

Fifteen minutes later, my made-up vegetarian chili was bubbling away on the stove. Don't ask for the recipe – I just threw all the ingredients into the pot and hoped it would turn out edible.

It did. Not only was it edible, it was delicious. I topped each bowl with a last spoonful of sour cream, the avocado diced, and a few sprinkles of grated cheese.

The best part is that I froze three pint jars of it. So next time, I'm stumped on a Monday, I'll just head to the basement freezer and voila! Chili, ready as fast as one can say "Meatless Mondays" three times.

Happy Monday.

Mamma Mia! 10 Best – and Sometimes Surprising – Bites from Italy

Take a girl who loves food to Italy, and she will surely be happy. That would be me, and I was happy during our entire three-week stay. I'm still happy, just dreaming about some of the meals I ate and wines I drank.

Happy girl tasting Parmesan cheese with three ages of Balsamic vinegar.

Without exception, our meals were fabulous – not to mention our daily dips of gelato. Here's my list of unforgettable tastes of Italy – ones that I want to be able to recall and savor over and over again.

In relative chronological order...

1. Margherita Pizza in Naples
Three years ago, I gave up gluten,  which – for all intents and purposes – meant that I gave up pizza. I decided to test my tolerance for gluten on our trip, allowing me to partake of pizza, pasta, beer and baked goods.

Pizza baking at Pizzeria Trianon

Our first stop was Naples, home of the modern pizza. After a bit of research, we made our way to Pizzeria Trianon. Like every other pizzeria in Naples, the pizzas are cooked in a wood-burning brick oven and take only minutes from order to delivery tableside. The setting was unremarkable; the pizza was out-of-this-world. I ordered a Margherita pizza; Ed, something with anchovies. We both had a large Peroni beer. My pizza was simple: the fresh buffalo mozzarella was perfectly molten; the cherry tomatoes, while roasted in the hot oven, still had the taste of fresh tomatoes; the basil was whole leafed, making a striking red, green and white pizza – just like the Italian flag. I ate the whole thing, and enjoyed every bite.

We had pizza another time or two on our trip, but none compared to the Neapolitan one from Trianon.

2. After-dinner Drinks: Caffe´Corretto and Amaro
After landing in Naples (and taking a two-hour nap) we walked the city streets until 8 p.m., considered an acceptable (if still early) dinner hour. We wandered back toward our hotel, turning right at the street just before it, and found Locanda 'Ntretella, a small restaurant that our hotel receptionist had recommended. Our dinner was lovely.

We read in some guide book that a cappuccino was a totally inappropriate after-dinner coffee – a sure giveaway that one was a tourist. The coffee drink to order is a caffe´corretto, which consists of a shot of espresso with a small amount of grappa, or sometimes sambuca, served in a tiny cup. Ed ordered one and I opted to try something called an Amaro, which turned out to be an Italian herbal liqueur that I thought was the most delicious thing I had ever sipped. I took a photo of the bottle and carried it around with me for the rest of the trip, showing it every chance I could, in the hope of ordering another.

Amaro: a photo to aid in my search

Ed ordering a caffe´corretto in Rome.

3. Zabaglione Cream Puffs
In Rome, while our friends Jackie and Paul toured museums, Ed and I decided to tour foods. We signed up for an Eating Italy Food Tour, a 4-hour guided walking food tour of the Trastevere neighborhood. Are we every glad we did! Our first stop was at the Pasticceria Trastevere, where we met Signora Vera, the owner and resident pastry chef for 40 years.

Signora Vera, pastry chef extraordinaire

After letting us stare at her beautiful pastries for several minutes, she came from behind her counter with a silver plate stacked high with small cream puffs. They had a pink icing top to them – and truth be told – they did not look all that great to me. I thought maybe she was just trying to get rid of something that hadn't sold so well. We each politely took one. I popped it in my mouth and thought I had died and gone to heaven. It was filled with cold zabaglione cream, with a hint of Marsala. It was the most delicious thing ever. I desperately wanted to ask for another, but, after all, this was our first stop.

Could I have another, please?

4. Fried Squash Blossoms
For the middle week of our trip, we met three best-friend couples at a Tuscan villa. It was such a fun and relaxing week. The villa caretakers, Margherita and Luca, cooked us dinner two times while we were there. On the first occasion, Margherita set before us an antipasta of squash blossoms, lightly fried and lightly stuffed with Pecorini cheese. We had a similar dish two other times on our trip – this one won hands down.

I had hundreds of squash blossoms in my garden this summer. Of course, they were all gone by the time we returned home. Can't wait to re-engineer this one next July.

A little pre-dinner reading

5. Tiramisu cake
We celebrated Ed's birthday while at the villa. Margherita and Luca knocked themselves out to prepare dinner in Ed's honor. I was a little disappointed that they had decided at the last minute to pick up a bakery cake for the candle-blowing portion of our dinner. I took one bite of the tiramisu cake and all my disappointment flew across the vineyard valley. I can't even describe how good it was.

We had tiramisu two other times on our trip; each version was different. One more pudding-like and served in a glass; the other more traditional. Each delicious, but none as good as the birthday version.

6. Buccellato Lucchese
While exploring Lucca on a day-trip from our villa, we stumbled upon Pasticceria Taddeucci, a bakery begun in 1881 by Jacopo Taddeucci and now run by a fifth generation of his family. The shop is best known for its buccellato Lucchese, a sweet cross between bread and coffee cake, studded with raisins and flavored with anise. We left with two loaves, one to share at the villa the next morning and one to put with our picnic provisions for the last leg of our journey. We sliced, toasted and buttered the loaf and then ate it with great gusto. It was light, yet at the same time, substantial. The second loaf we didn't get around to eating until several days later. It was good. A little hard. But still good.

7. Lambrusco wine
After our villa stay, Ed and I struck out on our own for 10 days, finding our way across the Emilla-Romano region of Italy. We stayed two nights in Bologna and were both impressed by the liveliness of the town and the abundance of great food. It's no wonder that it is considered the gastronomic centre of Italy. Our first night there, we wandered the streets, heading toward the University of Bologna, the oldest university in the western world.

Tons of young people were out and about, many looking for the bars that set out large buffets of food, free for the price of a drink. We were in the mood for something a bit more subdued. We spotted Trattoria Anna Maria, a very traditional-looking place, and were lucky enough to score a table. I was looking forward to trying a Bologna favorite: tortellini en brodo (tortellini in broth) and they had it on the menu. I think Ed ordered lamb and roasted potatoes. Our young waiter recommended that we order a bottle of Lambrusco, and so we did. Turns out, it was bottle of very dark red, sparkling, but dry, wine – and it was the perfect complement to both our meals.

We ordered a Lambrusco a couple of times after this meal – and even tried to find one at our favorite Louisville wine shop – but all we could find were ones that were much lighter in color and not quite as good. The quest is on...

Two other wines that I wish never to forget were the various vin santo wines that we drank after dinner (and after dipping cantuccini/biscotti into the sticky sweet wine). The second was a sparkling rosé wine that we had on our last night in Florence. It was a dei Frescobaldi Alìe 2014, Toscana IGT. It was surprising good with our Florentine steak.

8. Polenta with Fontina and mushrooms
Our next stop was Mantua, a town surrounded on three sides by artificial lakes, created during the 12th century as the city's defense system. Our hotel owner highly recommended a restaurant for us – one of her favorites and one that was surely open on a Monday night. As we walked around the city center, we looked for the restaurant she recommended, but could not find it. (We had the name of the street it was on, but not the specific address). On about our fifth stroll down the street, we spotted it. The owner was outside trying to shoo away a customer (who also was staying at our hotel and was also advised to go to this one specific restaurant).

Turns out the restaurant was hosting the local Rotary club dinner that night and was not accepting any other customers. The owner quickly indicated that we might find an open restaurant around the corner and down the street. All three of us headed that way and by the time we reached the restaurant, we had agreed to have dinner together. Our new friend was a toy salesperson from Holland, traveling on business.

I don't remember the name of the restaurant where we ended up, but I do remember that we were warmly welcomed and I'll not forget the antipasta: squares of polenta, topped with Fontina cheese, mushrooms and sesame seeds. Of course, I've already tried to duplicate this at home.

9. Pasta with eggplant, cherry tomatoes and mint 

We spent our afternoon in Ferrara walking 9 kilometers of the city's medieval red brick walls and trying to work up an appetite. 

Our hotel manager recommended that we dine that night at the Osteria del Ghetto, a traditional family-run restaurant hidden away in a narrow street in the center of the old Jewish ghetto. As usual, our dinner was excellent. I'm guessing that it was the matriarch who took our order. She was pleased when we ordered the pasta with eggplant, cherry tomatoes and mint. It is a Jewish specialty of the osteria. I can't pinpoint what made the dish so special. I'm guessing it was the quality of ingredients, including the homemade pasta and local olive oil. I recreated the dish last night. It was good, but not nearly as good as it was sitting in that lovely space in that lovely town. 

10. Artichoke quiche at an Italian farmhouse

We spent three delightful days at Campanacci, an agriturismo farmhouse located near Faenza. During the day, we took trips to Faenza, Ravenna, Comacchio, Terra del Sole, Brisighella, and San Marino. Each evening, we would return to the farmhouse and sit down to a fabulous home-cooked meal. We hadn't planned on eating dinner at Campanacci each night, but after the first one, we wouldn't think of dining elsewhere. Fourteen wines are produced on the vineyard and we sampled most of them. The farm also boosts 800 olive trees. 

Evidently artichokes are also grown somewhere on the property as the first night, we were served a quiche that was 99 percent tiny artichokes, barely held together with a bit of egg and cream, and baked in a flaky crust. I have no words for how good it was. And I'll never attempt to recreate it. 

Not the artichoke quiche but rather a vegetarian mousse, which was also delicious.

That brings me to the end of our culinary journey through Italy. It made me hungry just writing about it. I definitely, positively, need to go back. Momma Mia! I can't wait!