I bought purple gloves, stood in front of the Duomo eating ice cream, had a great aperitivo with Georgette and friends, and stayed with the lovely Katie.  Saturday I had the first half of the day to myself to walk around the city and I later met up with Katie and Laura, who I’ve been wanting to meet for years, for lunch.  Spending all that time with other girls who are making their dreams come true was really a spirit lifter for me.  It reminded me of what I have accomplished, and it reminded me how nice friendship is.

Florence is beautiful and it was a lovely reunion (I giggled and said to her “You’re so beautiful” more than once during this visit), but I fear that she has some competition from Rome in my heart for #1 major Italian city.  I enjoy knowing that I live a train ride from either city.  And that reminds me: as the train from Florence got into Umbria and closer to Perugia, I felt so at home.  As I embraced my dear tango friends, it became even more apparent to me.  I’m glad and grateful.

There is also a a rooftop terrace belonging to this apartment, with terracotta flooring and beautiful little tiles strategically placed around.  I take my lunches up there.  I like to drink my coffee up there in the mornings.  Snack on things like artichokes and olives (or helado) in the afternoon.  I’ve just put a rosemary plant there, which futher adds to the whole look of it and brings me even closer to Tuscany and Umbria, my two favorite regions.  Soon (the next day or so), I will get sage, basil, thyme, parsley and oregano plants to put next to the rosemary.  My large terrace shall soon be an herb garden.

But the rosemary, oh the rosemary.  Just the look of it brings back so many memories, not just of Italy but also Seattle – a long time ago I had saved a sprig of rosemary that was started from my great-grandmother’s plant.  I think I got it from my uncle after a family day of eating and playing games on the island (that would be Vashon Island – I always refer to it as the island, for future reference).  When my father died, I took that sprig of rosemary, by then quite dry, and placed it in his coffin.  He loved to cook, and he loved to cook with herbs.

Rosemary also makes me think of the sumptuous dinners I have had at my aunt & uncle’s house on Beacon Hill as well as one lunch in Cortona.  They have a business renting villas and apartments in Tuscany, and even when they are in Seattle, one can say that Etruria most certainly dominates the surroundings in their kitchen, in the way they have decorated and in their garden and cooking.  When I taste rosemary, the taste of green, peppery, almost spicey olive oil comes to mind, as does the sound of family laughter in two countries, two languages, combined with that familiar clink of wine glasses.

Yesterday I christened my rosemary plant by snipping off a piece and making rosemary fettunta (bruschetta).  I grilled some bread, rubbed salt and rosemary on it, and then drizzled extra-virgin olive oil on it – but not just any oil.  My aunt Nina sent me some gorgeous, unadulterated olive oil from olives harvested and pressed in Tuscany.  Lucky me! There is nothing like it.

Do I sound “elitist”?  You know, I don’t have a lot of money and I don’t own a villa in the Tuscan hills (instead I’m sharing an apartment that could use a fresh coat of paint), but the way I choose to live my life every day makes me feel rich inside (and particularly so when I manage to get someone to send me my favorite olive oil!).  My recipes and tastes may seem sophisticated but really, if you do your research, the most popular Tuscan dishes are based on a history of poverty.  I use the most simple, basic things, and yes they are available  here.  Garlic, bread, herbs (fresh or dried), wine, olive oil.  It’s all based on simple things that one creatively puts together.  To me, enjoying cooking and eating means appreciating each individual ingredient as a whole food.  Such as rosemary.

I may not be rich but  my rosemary makes me feel like a queen.