Many of my posts here are about the oddities I find living in Italy as an American, but the reverse holds true as well. Having spent so much time in Italy, when I come back to the states, there are things that are normal to Americans, but rub me the wrong way because of my time in Italy. One of these that really gets to me is how we describe food in the states.

Italian culture truly does revolve around food. It is so important, that an Italian company really can’t get away with slick marketing terms that are misleading. That is, if something is marketed as “fresh”, it damn well better have come from the farm 15 minutes ago. But in the states, all of these terms to describe food have become meaningless. So here is my list of terms I find to describe food in the states that make me say “Are you freaking kidding me???”

Fresh
How many times have you been in a restaurant that advertises “The Freshest Ingredients”? Really? Are you treating me like I was born yesterday? I mean, everyone does it, from chain restaurants to fast food establishments. That tomato that you advertised as “Fresh” likely came from a greenhouse on another continent weeks ago. Spare me.

Home Made
How many restaurants offer home-made pie? Home made meatloaf, home made just-about-everything? So, did your chef make this at his house this morning and bring it to work? Why on earth do we respond to this?

Artisan
So I walk into some fast food restaurant and see an “Artisan” sandwich advertised. ARTISAN? To begin with, How on earth does ARTISAN apply to food? Do they have some little old man in the back with a lifetime of experience sculpting the ingredients into a work of art? I mean, fast food assembly line sandwich shops advertise “artisan” food. Please!

Hand-Crafted
Put this up there with artisan. What is “Hand Crafted Roast Beef”, anyway? How do you hand-craft that? And if you do, do chain restaurants really do it? I think not, so why use the term and treat your customers like idiots?

Hand-Cut
Again, like Hand-crafted, and used ad nauseum. So the meat in your sandwich is hand cut. Does that make it better? Really? Do you honestly hand-cut it?

Pan-Fried
I see this on menus all the time, like Pan-Fried Salmon. I have just one question: How else would you fry the salmon? In a pressure cooker? In an oven? In the sink? I don’t get it.

Cooked to Perfection
How many times do you see a description on a menu that tells us the food is cooked to perfection? How else are they supposed to cook it otherwise?

100% Real
This fist struck me on a pizza box from Papa John’s. 100% Real Cheese? Are they telling me that other Pizza uses fake cheese? That may be so, and great that theirs is real… but what is the other pizza made of? How sad is it that we have to wonder if our cheese is actually cheese!

Real Fruit Flavor
I love seeing this on juice drinks. So which it? Real Fruit? Or Real Flavor? Are you telling me that the flavor is that of REAL fruit, but it is fake? Am I supposed to get excited that it doesn’t TASTE like artificial fruit, even though it really is artificial? Or are you trying to pull one over on me, thinking I will believe you are selling me real fruit, when in fact only the flavor is supposed to taste real? Huh??? Argh!!

Natural Cut
Hello Wendy’s! Are you trying to tell me that your “Natural Cut Fries” are naturally cut? Or that the fries are natural, and you cut them?  Perhaps they are natural fries that you cut naturally? Because a quick google search will show anyone that there is very little natural about Wendy’s natural cut fries.

OK, I’m done with my rant… for now.

In our business, we meet people from all over the world. Small World stories can be expected from time to time. You know, “Hey! That person is my neighbor”, or “We went to the same school”, or “we have friends in common”. It just happens. But every once in a while, one of these things comes up that truly boggles the mind.

How on earth do I begin setting the stage for this one, anyway?

A few weeks ago, we had a reunion in New Orleans with some past guests that had been on one of our tours in Italy. One day, we put together a crawfish boil, and we put a bunch of other past guests together that lived in the area. In all, we were about 20 people, that represented 5 separate tours of ours in Soriano. Everyone bonded, and it was amazing. That was that.

The following day, I happen to notice a person that had “Liked” our Facebook page. It wasn’t a name I recognized, which is absolutely normal. But it also showed that the person had two friends in common with me. Also not strange. It was WHO we had in common that made me scratch my head.

Her name was Anne. Our common friends were “Kirby” and “Cissy”.

How I know Cissy:

In 2011, someone named “Connie” came on one of our tours in Soriano. We became friends, and later in 2011, Paola and I visited New Orleans, and went to visit Connie. We had a big dinner at a gas station turned restaurant in the middle of nowhere in Convent, LA called “Hymel’s”. While at that dinner, we also met “Cissy”, “Dennis”, “Scott”, “Rhett” and “Glynn”. The restaurant belongs to someone named “Joanne”

Dennis and Cissy are close family friends of Connie. booked a trip with us in Soriano, and came in May 2012.

Scott, who is Connie’s cousin, also booked with Glynn, Rhett and Vince. They came on a Soriano tour in September 2012.

How I know Kirby:

Kirby is my niece. What more can I say? Born and raised in Los Angeles. I can’t even imagine if she has ever even been to Louisiana, let alone this tiny little middle of the nowhere place! I’ll say now that Kirby is married to “David”, who I know is originally from Texas. Still, how on earth can Kirby and Cissy have a common friend on Facebook?

So I had to send “Anne” a message and ask how this connection existed. She wrote back, telling me that David is her son. She continued that she had grown up down the street from Cissy in Texas. When she saw photos of Cissy at the reunion, she wondered if it may have been the same place David and Kirby had been the same year.

In fact, David and Kirby came on one of our tours in Soriano, TWO MONTHS after Dennis and Cissy. It also turns out that I met Anne at David and Kirby’s wedding.

I explained to her that I knew Cissy from the year before when we had been visiting other past guests in Convent, Louisiana.

She replied, asking me who those guests were, and mentioned that she was friend’s with Joanne, telling me what a great restaurant it was.

I explained that the restaurant from the year before was Joanne’s place… and that the reunion we had done the night before was at her house. I also explained that the past guest in question was Connie.

So it turns out that she knows all of Connie’s family, as well.

Time goes by, and we have another reunion just yesterday, but this time it is in Florida. Scott, Glynn, Rhett and Henry are at THAT reunion. So we got to talking, and I told the whole story. Scott contacts his mother, and it turns out that Scott’s mother ALSO grew up on the same street as Anne and Cissy!

So of course, I contacted Anne and let her know. It also happens that we have yet another reunion happening next month, only this time it is in Texas. So I invited Anne. After all, we have got to get together and laugh about all of this, right?

She responds not only that she will be there, but David and Kirby will be in Texas visiting that day as well!

OK, long, complicated, and all… but I just had to share this small world story!

Just ten miles from our home base of Soriano bel Cimino is the city of Viterbo, which is practically unknown internationally. However, this city of roughly 65,000 residents holds a place in history that is especially relevant as of this writing. A new Pope is about to be selected by the Roman Catholic Church, and the process we are all about to watch unfold before our eyes started right here.

Most think of the Vatican as strictly a Roman place, and a few are aware of the Avignon Papacy, when for a period the Popes actually resided in France. But even fewer know of The Viterbo Papacy, a period that lasted several decades in the 1200′s, during which Popes were living in Viterbo because it was just too dangerous for them to live in Rome. This is not just some short period that lives as a footnote of history, but a very significant period. It is where the tradition of the Papal Conclave began, and the story behind it is fascinating.

So as we are about to watch our televisions with images of black smoke coming out of a chimney in Rome. As we listen to the pundits talk about which Pope will be selected, and how long it will be before we see white smoke come out of that chimney, read on to see how it all started. After all, Viterbo is home to the longest papal election in history and the first ever conclave.

It all dates back to the year 1257, when Pope Alexander IV made the decision to remove the Papal Curia from Rome. At the time, violence in the city was increasingly troublesome, and there was a great deal of hostility between the church and the Roman commune. He decided to move roughly 80km away to what was once a bishop’s palace in Viterbo. The church enlarged the palace to create a new location suitable for the Popes.

When Alexander IV died, Jacques Pantaléon, the Patriarch of Jerusalem had just returned from the Crusades to seek help for oppressed Christians. While there, the Pope died, and after three months, he was made Pope, taking the name Urban IV, and marking the first non-cardinal to be elected Pope in the later middle ages. During his four year papacy, he lived partly in Viterbo, and partly in Perugia.

Once Urban IV died in 1264, Pope Clement IV was elected in Perugia. It was still far too dangerous for him to enter Rome, as the anti-papal Ghibelline party was in complete control there, and he ended up taking full-time residence in the Papal Palace of Viterbo for his three and a half year papacy. It was just after his death in 1268 when things began to get very interesting in Viterbo, and Papal history was made.

The Papal election of 1268–1271

The election has gone down in history as the longest papal election, lasting one thousand and six days! It resulted in major changes to the process that are still in use today, and it all happened in Viterbo.

In the beginning, the cardinals would meet once daily in the Viterbo Cathedral, then return to their respective residences. However, there was tremendous infighting between the cardinals at the time, who formed factions, mostly French versus Italians, that could not come to agreement. During this period, three of the twenty cardinals died, and another resigned his rights.

For roughly a year, the vote happened daily with no results. More than anyone, it appeared that the most likely choice was going to be Filippo Benizi. However, he felt unworthy, and when he realized he was the likely choice, he fled to avoid election.  It seemed it would never end.

This resulted in a complete deadlock seventeen months into the process. The people of Viterbo were getting restless, and were advised be St Bonaventura of Bagnoregio to take action. The people decided to finally lock the Cardinals in the Papal Palace. Still with no agreement, they began to ration the cardinals to bread and water. Finally, out of utter desperation, they tore the roof off of the cathedral to allow better access for the holy spirit to get to the Cardinals and inspire them!

Finally, under growing outside pressure, the cardinals agreed to elect a committee of six in September of 1271. Within two days, a new Pope was finally elected.

The new Pope was Teobaldo Visconti, a nobleman from Piacenza. He was the second non-cardinal to be elected Pope in the later middle ages, but to take it a step further, he wasn’t even a priest! He was crowned Pope March 27, 1272, and took the name of Gregory X.

The Papal Conclave

Pope Gregory X was determined to make sure another prolonged election would not happen. During the celebration of the Second Council of Lyon, he established the Conclave in the Ubi periculum constitution, heavily based on the measures the people of Viterbo took to stop the stalemate that resulted in his own election.

When a pope died, the cardinals with him were to wait ten days for other cardinals to arrive. Then, each with only one servant, they were to meet in the palace where the previous pope died. They would all be locked in “cum clave” (By Key) a common room with no partitions. This is the origin of the term “Conclave”.  Nobody would be allowed in or out, and there was to be no communication with the outside world. No messages were allowed to be sent out, and the penalty for breaking these rules was nothing less than excommunication. One window was allowed, through which food would be passed to the cardinals.

If, after three days, they had not come to a decision, their food would be rationed. If, after five days, no decision had been made, their rations would then be reduced to bread, water, and wine.

In fact, the next Papal Conclave after Gregory X’s death lasted only one day.   Since then, there have been many changes to the Conclave, but the general concept remains, and this was the first time it ever happened.

So as we wait for the white smoke to come up the chimney, think of Viterbo where the Conclave started.

This morning as I took my daily walk to Bar Roma for my morning cup of tea and free Wi-Fi hit, I was warmly greeted as always by two of Soriano’s local characters, Franco & Enrico.

These two elderly gentlemen are only two of many locals who “hangout” at the local bars & caffés in Soriano, chatting about the weather, taking in the day to day goings on and greeting locals and strangers alike.

However, today I was surprised to get an overly excited greeting, with whispers of “vieni qui, vieni qui” (Come Here, Come Here).  As I moved closer, Franco reached into his jacket pocket and produced an envelope, I just thought he’d received a note from a long lost relative in Australia, the US or UK and he wanted me to translate it.

But when he opened the envelope and pulled out the little card with the maple leaf on it, his eyes glistened, his face beamed and his smile grew broad.  He was proudly showing me the special little card sent to him by one of the CDV guests from last year’s vacations.

Carolanne and her father, John, spent a week in Soriano, not just as your typical tourist, but embracing our little town of Soriano, it’s culture and character and it’s local characters.

Most mornings they would arrive at Bar Roma earlier than the other guests and would take their time to sit and chat with the locals in their broken Italian, the locals politely smiling and nodding and not really understanding every word, but connected by the efforts made by both to communicate.

Sitting with the locals and taking it all in was enough for Carolanne and John to start their days off in the most wonderful of ways.

Just as they started my day off today!  To have had such an enthusiastic greeting this morning and to see these two wonderful elderly gentlemen proudly showing their cards to anyone who passed by inspired me to write this quick blog post to make a point of reminding all that CDV is not just another tour company, it’s a family of locals who welcome strangers with open hearts and arms and create lasting memories and friendships.

I am so grateful to Michael and Paola and the whole CDV team to be a part of this, to be able to chat with new friends via Facebook and keep up with their lives long after their return home from Soriano is such a wonderful gift.

Thank you, Michael, Paola, Carla, Rita, Spartaco, Rocky, Pierina, Sergio, Antonio, all the local Sorianese connected to CDV and all the wonderful CDV ospiti over the past couple of years that my family and I have been privileged to be a small part of your Italian experience.

Grazie mille and we look forward to continuing to keep in touch and hope that one day we’ll see you all again back in Soriano!

Baci

Peta

This Sunday with the weather a little less conducive to wandering around an ancient village so we decided not to travel too far from home.

I had heard there is a regular antique/bric-a-brac auction in Vignanello (about 10 minutes from Soriano) & missing a little of our life in Oz where I’d frequently go take a look at these types of markets, I convinced my husband & boys that it may be nice to go for a small day trip & check it out.  After a few grizzles about the weather we finally headed off about 11am.

Vignanello is only a 15 minute drive from Soriano, so when we drove into the town and announced we had arrived both boys were relieved they didn’t have to endure a long car trip.  As we drove into Vignanello the first thing that struck us was the number of garages or boxes dug into the mountain. We would have driven about 2 kms along the main entry road and the whole way along the side of the mountain was rows of old garages dug into the mountain side.  Either the houses in Vignanello are small or people here just have a lot of stuff!  Have made a mental note to ask our friend who has recently moved here about why there are so many of these here.

After we drove into the centre of town we had quite a familiar feeling, even though we’d not been there before.  We worked out it was because a lot of the main buildings in the centre of town are very similar in architecture to those in Soriano.  I would think this would be expected given its proximity to Soriano.  And also just like in Soriano the usual crazy Sunday parking laws apply, that is where ever you think you can pull up without getting side swiped then just do so and park, love Italian parking mentality  So that’s just what we did, saw the first space we came across and parked.

Not quite knowing the location of the auction, just knew it was in Vignanello, we intended just to wander around & try to find it, but when we got out of the car and looked down the street we saw ahead of us a row of market umbrellas.

Apparently Vignanello is also known for its Sunday market, so another reason for the boys to enjoy the trip; they both love wandering around these types of more typical Italian markets.  The market was about twice the size of our Soriano Friday market with some of the same stall vendors.

We began making our way through the stalls and enjoying the atmosphere & came across a small stall outside an office type shop.  On the table of this stall sat a toilet filled with lucky dip type raffle tickets and a sign saying €1. The elderly gentleman standing behind the table with his hands in the toilet spoke out to our younger son trying to encourage him to put his hands in.  He must have thought this a bit odd as from his eye level he couldn’t see into the bowl to know it was only filled with raffle tickets!  After a bit of coaxing & convincing that there wasn’t anything else in the bowl he agreed to join in & have a lucky dip.  We’d already paid our €1, and received our prize, me a block of chocolate, my husband a chocolate pastry & our older son a can of tomatoes!  Our younger son dove his hand in and pulled out a ticket with ‘i cuore’ written on it.  Turned out this was a beautiful handmade Christmas tree ornament in the shape of a heart. So happy with our bounty for only €4 we went to wander on through the rest of the market.

As we headed off, one of the stall people said to the others, “ahh Inglese”, (Ahhh, English) and overhearing this I turned around & corrected him saying “ahh, no australiani”, the usual “ahh australia e molto lontano” (Oh, Australia is very far) came back, which started a little chat about what we’re doing here, where are we from and where are we living.  The same ‘ahh Australia, we have an aunt/uncle/cousin/ in Australia, in Brisbane/Melbourne/Perth.’  So many Italians we chat to have a connection to Australia I’m amazed there are not more Aussies living over here.  They then proceeded to tell us very proudly about their own Aussies living in Vignanello from Brisbane who own a pastry store.  It made us all smile a bit how they said it with such pride, “Well, we have our own Aussies!”   We all agreed that we’d have to try and meet them one day, said our goodbyes and wandered away, yet again amazed at the friendly, welcoming nature of these wonderful Italians. We spent a couple of hours exploring the markets, purchased a pair of dinky ear warmers each for the boys and a couple of other little things.  We then decided it would be nice to get something light to eat so wandered back up to Centro in search of a Pizzeria.

We came across the beautiful big duomo and also the castello which actually has an old moat around it with a real drawbridge, the boys thought this was really cool.  Unfortunately it wasn’t open so we agreed we’d be back for another visit and look around the castle one day soon.

Wandering back to the car we came across La Cantina del Gusto which sounded like a nice place to eat so we headed down 30 metres of stairs to a building on the side of the mountain.  It was fabulous, really nicely decorated and a view across the valley to Monti Cimino.  We didn’t want too much to eat so ordered a couple of mixed plates of antipasto, buffalo mozzarella & cingiale misto of prosciutto, salami and other meats.  It was absolutely delicious!  The meal came with pane and acqua and we enjoyed a mezzo litre of the house white.  The waiter was really friendly and chatted with the boys and was impressed with their Italian & joked with us about them teaching us.

It was a lovely way to finish off our day in Vignanello.  We wandered back up the hill to our car & the short trip back to Soriano.  We will return to explore the castello and other parts of this really beautiful old town and maybe even discover the antique auction, which we never did actually find….

As November comes to a close, so does the Olive Harvest in Italy.. So what better time than this to talk about the absolutely amazing experience we had this month harvesting olives and making our own olive oil in Umbria?

Liquid Gold.  The one thing that I make sure I bring back to the states every year.  After all, as I tell our guests, we can get good wine, good leather, good ceramics, etc. back in the states.  We may pay more for it, but it is there.  But no matter how much I try, I can never find decent olive oil.   At least nothing that compares to what I get from the olive mill we get our oil from.

Every week during our vacations, we take our guests one day to a tiny little olive mill and winery at the border between Latium and Umbria, in Orvieto country.  When we arrive, we take them into the mill to show them how the olive oil is produced.  This is one of Italy’s few remaining “Traditional” Cold Press mills…  The one with the giant stone wheels.  The one known to produce the absolute best of the best.

Week after week, we describe what they would see if the mill were in operation, and it takes some imagination.  After all, this places only goes into operation for a few weeks a year beginning in November when the olives are ready.  But one of our groups this year chose to brave the risk of cold and rain in order to not only see it in operation, but to be a part of the olive oil making experience.  While we were not sure how it would all turn out, it ended up being what was possibly the most exciting day we have ever had on our vacations.  We Came.  We Harvested.  We Made Olive Oil.

We started out our morning as we do each and every morning in Soriano.  We all met at the local coffee bar & pastry shop for breakfast.  We dad our “Espresso”, “Cappuccino”, and our “Cornetti:, then boarded our minibus, headed for the village of Castiglione in Teverina, just south of Orvieto, Umbria.   We stopped at the mill and met with Serena, one of the owners and a close friend.  We loaded crates, tarp, clippers & gloves, then followed her to a remote olive grove in southern Umbria.

One by one, we got off the minibus and made our way to the olive grove.  For a couple hours, our group split into smaller groups, each tackling one tree at a time.  We laughed and had a wonderful time picking olives & taking pictures on what turned out to be a beautiful sunny day with the “Dying City” of Civita di Bagnoregio as our backdrop.

When all of us had decided we had picked enough olives, we walked back to the minibus, carrying our crates full of newly harvested olives.  We loaded them into the back, climbed aboard, and headed back to the mill.

Once back at the mill, two by two, we carried the crates inside and set them on a large floor scale to see what we came up with.  All said and done, we had harvested 110.5kg (~225 pounds) of olives.  We then picked them up and dumped them into a large container inside the mill which then loaded them into the grinder where two massive millstones began to turn and crush them.

For about a half hour, the millstones turned nonstop, grinding our olives into a thick paste, while we headed into the old wine cellar, just a few feet away.  While visiting the cellar, we tasted a few of the white wines the winery here produces while having some Bruschetta that was made with the “NEW” olive oil that had just been pressed the day before..  We also had the opportunity to do a taste comparison between the new oil and last year’s oil, so that we could have a better understanding of how much better the brand new olive oil was…. AND IT WAS!

After our brief tasting, we headed back to the mill once again.  Our olives were all crushed and ready for the next step of the process.  While we only expected o be harvesting olives today, our friends at the mill had a very unexpected surprise for us.  As it turns out, we were also to operate the mill today!

One by one, guests that wanted to wore an apron and stood in front of a machine next to the grindstones.   The olive paste was loaded into a sort of large food processor.  Each guest would place a fiber disk on top of a turntable, then press a button that would start the table turning as olive paste was spread onto the disk.  Once it was spread around the entire disk, they would press another button that would cause a mechanical arm to pick up the disk, lift it and place it onto a large cylinder.  The process would repeat over and over, stacking the disks on top of one another as our guests operated the machinery one by one.

When the stack of disks layered with olive paste was tall enough, we wheeled it all over to the olive press and it it into operation.  The oil began to slowly drip along the sides of the press, and we headed into another room for lunch.

While we were operating the press, tasting wine and oil, and visiting the old wine cellar; Serena’s mom was upstairs preparing lunch for us.  We were served a wonderful assortment of local cold cuts, local cheese, Tuscan beans, fresh garden salad, and much more.  During our lunch, Serena opened up a selection of their red wines, one by one, so that by the end we had samples all seven of their amazing wines.  Finally for dessert she brought down cups of fresh ricotta cheese that had been made that day by her neighbor, then smothered in Acacia honey produced by a close friend.  As always, it was truly and amazing lunch.

Our bellies full and our sobriety in question, we walked back over to the mill once again.  While we were eating an drinking, our stack of disks had been pressing away, extracting  all the juice from the olive paste.  The olives have water content as well as the oil, so they must be separated.  The juice drips from the disks, and gets pumped into a container up by the ceiling that gravity feeds it into a centrifuge.  Out one side of the centrifuge, the water is drained.  Out the other side, a golden-green liquid gently flows… Liquid Gold!  Olive Oil.. just pressed from olive harvested from their trees less than three hours prior.

One by one, each of us took a one liter can and kneeled by the spicket.  We each filled our own can of olive oil that we had just made from harvest to pressing.

When it was all over, it was getting dark.  We hopped back on the minibus to go home to Soriano, each of us clasping onto our can as though it were a priceless treasure.  Each of us had smiles from ear to to ear, having just had one of the most amazing experiences of our lives.  To say the day was pure magic is an absolute understatement.  It was all we talked about for the rest of the week.

Every week on our tours, we visit this olive mill.  But only one week each year do we have this experience.  Only once do we get to actually see it in action, be a part of the process, and make it ourselves.  It is a source of incredible pride for us, because as a company that is all about cooking & culinary vacations in Italy, we know what a unique experience this is.  You will find a few others that include harvesting for a day.  You will find some that let you see a mill in action.  But that we know of, we are the only company that actually has its guests making the olive oil at every stage… especially in one of Italy’s few remaining traditional cold press olive mills, and what a difference it makes!

>> More info on our Olive Harvest Week can be found by clicking here.

Paolo and Marisa are, by all accounts, your typical everyday Italian farmers.  That is, with one big exception:  Their farm happens to be across the road from us…  those crazy people that bring all of the Americans to town…  Yes, Canadians, Australians and Brits, too.. but to them, they hear English and simply think “Americans”.

A fun, and to some degree, macabre tradition began three years ago.  A guy named Steve visited with his then girlfriend, Jessica.  He was a guy from Jersey with that classic dry, sarcastic, irony-ridden sense of humor.  He walked over to the farm, spotted a pig, and simply exclaimed two words:  RAMON JAMON.  Yes folks, he named the pig.  While it is widely considered a bad idea to name your food-to-be, I was right there with him, video camera in hand…. And for those of you that have been reading my blog, I’m that guy from L.A. with that classic dry, sarcastic, irony-ridden sense of humor.  I just couldn’t let it be.

While Steve left, I couldn’t let it go.  I had to humanize Ramon.  I went on to shoot hours of video.  People meeting Ramon, people feeding Ramon, interviews of people after having met Ramon.  The end result was a video I put up on the web that has gone on to be one of our classics:  “They Called Him Ramon” (View the video on YouTube).

A year later, Ramon (or at least part of him) was the prosciutto in our kitchen, and there was a new pig in the pen.  He had an attitude… not too friendly.  Still, the tradition continued.  As fate would have it, Steve and Jessica returned to get married in Soriano.  We waited for them arrive before we named the new pig.  When they did, we took this new pig’s attitude into account and called him “Jabba The Pig”.  Yes, Star Wars fans, he was big, ugly and mean.  The name fit.

All of this brings us to our 2010 season.  We were back in Italy, and Jabba was now the prosciutto in our kitchen, and there was a new pig in town.  He was a different kind of pig… nothing like Jabba.

The new pig was cute and adorable.  He was friendly and social.  He even had one blue eye and one brown.  But at the end of the day, he was a big fat pig.  So we thought of an appropriate name for a big fat teddy bear of a pig.  We called him Sumo.  Sumo The Pig.

As with years past, all of our guests met him, but unlike with Jabba, Sumo became extremely popular.  People fell in love with him.  They would feed him while talking to him like a puppy.  They would get saddened by his fate.  They connected.

The unparalleled love for Sumo gave him a life like no other pig.  All season long, people would set food aside to feed him, making Paolo and Marisa very happy farmers.  Sumo got his very own FaceBook profile, and boasts more friends than most humans!  (Visit Sumo’s FaceBook).  His genealogy has been traced and blogged (Read The “Our Year in Italy” blog about Sumo).  Songs have been written and sung about him (Watch the “We Love You Sumo” video), countless people have featured Sumo in their Facebook profile pictures, and elaborate escape plans have been made to secure Sumo’s future.

But the road to hell is paved with good prosciutto, and Sumo is a pig that was born with destiny.

Sadly, last Friday Sumo met his last visitor.  He had his last scrap of leftovers given by someone wishing for his freedom.  All Sumo has left are Paolo and Marisa… The people that will, in two months time, help Sumo fulfill his true destiny.

As our 2011 season starts, our kitchen counter will be home to a new prosciutto, and as with every year, there will be returning guests that knew Sumo, knew Jabba, and knew Ramon…  and as with every year, they will quickly get over it as soon as they taste some of the best prosciutto they have ever had.  Prosciutto that can only be the product of months of loving feeding by visiting guests.

There will be a new pig in the pen.  We will assess his personality and give him a name as we do every year.  If he is even half the pig Sumo was, he will be a delight to all.

Sumo, you will be truly missed.