Casa L Orto

Inspiration Found On The Amalfi Coast--By Terrence Meck

casa-l-orto — Tue, 02 Apr 2013 12:28:22 +0200

Driving through the Amalfi coast and arriving in the quaint seaside village of Praiano, I shook my head in disbelief at never having traveled south of Rome in previous trips to my family’s home country. This part of Italy’s coastline can simply be described as one of the most beautifully surreal places I have ever seen in all my travels; a sentence I would soon learn never to use again in my writing.

Checking in to the family-owned Hotel Margherita I cautiously searched for the other participants attending the inaugural Praiano Writers Forum. Still questioning my ability to contribute to the intimate retreat, I was happy to confirm my fallback option. If this week turned out to be a bust, I was stuck in a picturesque Italian village with plenty of cultural excursions to choose from.

Toying with the idea of writing a memoir since losing my husband Rand to pancreatic cancer in 2008, this retreat would either serve as the kick in the ass I needed, or as the ultimate confirmation for my over-crowded calendar. I kept waiting for the alert to pop up: “Writing this book creates 75,000 conflicts. Would you like to delete?” The notes section of the warning would then undoubtedly remind me of my lack of guts and the talent needed to successfully tackle this overwritten plot.

My Aunt Robin’s words, however, rang loudest in my ears when I made the leap to cancel a week’s worth of meetings, lunches, calls and galas to attend my first writing workshop. “Of course you are going Terrence – It’s Wally Lamb! Look at what he did with the women of York Prison. Just imagine what he can do for you.” Truth be told, my Aunt is such a huge Wally fan that if I told her I had taken a piss at the urinal next to him she’d ask me if he had an update on Dolores Price. But either way, she was right. Whether or not Rand ever became a household name like Dolores, opportunity awaited in Praiano.

“Bongiorno Terrence – I’m looking forward to our collective Praiano adventure. Hope you are too. See you soon. Prego! Wally.” Even his penmanship spoke like an Oprah favorite as I perused through our welcome package. Sending off a picture of his note to my family back home, Aunty Rob included of course, I headed out to find the others.

Every man in the old-world village of Praiano seemed to be named Gennaro and each was nicer than the next. The small community of just 2000 residents was filled with excitement as they vigorously prepared for the commencement of their much needed tourist season. Colder weather than we all had hoped for, the resident’s hospitable warmth lifted our exhausted spirits.

Guided through the meandering streets by two of our hosts, the talented editor and writer Larry Bloom and the acclaimed poet Suzanne Levine, the six unlikely-grouped travelers were finally able to put a face to each other’s words. Blindly turning yet another scenic corner, we were greeted by Wally in his best Connecticut-born Italian accent. “Bongiorno” he shouted from the top of another breathtaking vista.

Casa L Orto, the magnificent villa owned by Carol LeWitt, beckoned as we descended the precipitous stairwell. Generous in its serenity, all pre-conceived notions were left outside before entering the Forum’s classroom for the week. No matter what happened over the coming days, I had made the right choice. The distractions of my life drifted farther away than Manhattan itself as I inhaled the possibilities of what lay ahead.

Our mornings at Casa L Orto were filled with workshops as we gently navigated the process of group learning amongst strangers. Effortlessly we strained to absorb the immense amount of insight and knowledge as our teacher’s brilliance caused pens to fill the pages of Italian notebooks. Both the praise and critique we listened to and offered one another opened our eyes to the dexterity of progressing from a civilian to a writer. The insightful discussions were infectious.

Expanding my horizons each day, I learned to let go of the eulogy I had been writing in my head and allowed the realistic pain of my life with Rand to pour into my afternoon writing sessions. My heart nearly pounded through my sweater Wednesday night as I unveiled part of my complicated love story to the group. Like proud parents watching a first ballet recital, Wally, Lary and Suzanne listened along with fellow Praiano writers as I continued reading aloud from a piece I had written just hours before.

“Rising gently from the tornado of clothes, shoes and everything else Rand had collected in his closet over the years, I carefully replaced each clear plastic bag into their rightful homes. They were never meant to end up in my shaking hands. Every jacket was re-hung, each shoe put back on its shelf. Tee shirts, socks, underwear, white cotton hankies all re-folded. Rand’s crimson colored embroidered handkerchiefs remained untouched once again in the back of his top drawer as I pushed it closed and turned off the lights.”

The revelation of Rand’s betrayal in his Manhattan closet 8 years ago was a small window of our life together but a scene I thought I would never expose. The encouragement from my first-ever reading of my work combined with the constructive criticism of our writing samples throughout the week fueled my desire and motivation to write.

Gennaro’s Wine Bar, one of the few local restaurants opened during the offseason, was the perfect setting to celebrate our culmination to a productive week. Familiar now with each other’s heartfelt stories and the complexities of our individual lives, we drank wine, laughed, and overate while encouraging each other to pursue our newfound discoveries.

With the intricacies of my path towards writing a memoir slightly clearer, I left the week energized, inspired and enthusiastic to continue my journey. I have no doubt that on a future trip to Praiano, when I read from the pages of my newly published book, I will be thanking the readers in the audience for fostering my creative process in this coastal village along the Amalfi coast – unquestionably one of the most beautifully-preserved destinations in the world.

ProsaThe - Incontri Letterari Pubblici in Residenze Private

casasorci — Sat, 11 Aug 2012 11:39:28 +0200

August 8, 2012 Casa L Orto was the setting for the fourth literary encounter in Praiano’s ProsaThe series. The writer Michael Gregorio

presented their eco-noir thriller “Boschi e Bossoli”. Before an enthusiastic crowd of residents and visitors,

they described their earlier series of historical detective fiction and read a passage from their latest novel. Refreshments included Maria’s home-made zeppole—

exceptional!

One Last Garden Feast

kyramorris — Sat, 28 Jul 2012 21:16:16 +0200

On Thursday night we made one final garden feast with guests Stephen and Clo Davis. Hallie, Clo, and Tess all cooked together and produced a delicious meal of our favorite Praiano dishes plus some new editions.

Menu:

-Whipped ricotta spread with lemon zest and black pepper

-Green and black olives with savory biscotti

-Stuffed peppers

-Insalata Praianese

- Zucca with sautéed herbs

-Risotto with lemon, wild arugula and pecorino

-Affogato

An Italian 4th of July Feast

kyramorris — Thu, 12 Jul 2012 15:13:34 +0200

On the 4th of July we hosted a feast here at Casa L Orto in honor of the American holiday, the arrival of Hallie’s parents in Praiano, and Tess’ return from her trip to the states.

The Menu

Apertivo:

-Hallie’s homemade tomato rosemary foccacia

-Crostini and peppers with fava dip

Anitpasti:

-Insalata caprese

-Oregano onions

-Pepperonchini ripieni

-Melanzane alla parmigiana

-Insalata verde

-Alici marinati

Primi:

-Spaghetti alle alici e noci

Secondi:

-Steamed Mussels

Dolce:

-Lemon tart with minted cream

-Fresh strawberries

-Torta di Noce

La Festa di San Luca

kyramorris — Tue, 10 Jul 2012 13:39:37 +0200

This past week marked La Festa di San Luca, celebrated in the Piazza San Luca in Praiano. For three days fireworks were set off in the piazza at all hours of the day. I could hear them in the morning when I was stringing up tomatoes, and I would pause during my night runs to watch them explode above the roofs. Each evening a procession carrying a metallic statue of San Luca and a magenta baldacchino paraded around the town and up to the piazza followed by a wind instrument band.

On Friday night after a late run and a late dinner I decided to venture up to the piazza by myself. Piazza San Luca is located just above Casa L Orto—a five minute walk up several hundred steps. The steps take off at a steep incline from the Piazza Moressa, just outside the gate of Casa L Orto. This little piazza consists of one small bench and a cement railing where the elderly women of the neighborhood like to perch themselves. Sometimes they lean over the railing to observe the action down at the grocery store on the street below and other times they seat themselves on the bench to observe and make conversation with the people that roll by—on foot, on vespa, or in stroller.

I passed through the piazza Moressa, and headed up the steps. Before I could see the church of San Luca or the lights in the piazza, I heard the famous refrain from the Barber of Seville, floating down to me from the square.

When I reached the piazza I chose a seat up on the stairs around the periphery of the main square where I had a good view of the bandstand, but could also look out at the moon high above the water and the lights of Salerno in the distance.

The band and all their shining brass instruments were packed into a small temporary bandstand, raised above the square. The audience was concentrated in the little group of plastic chairs in the middle of the square where the older people sat, intently watching the bandstand. Outside of this nucleus, the audience members dispersed around the edges. On the benches around the perimeter sat the more middle-aged audience members—their attention divided between the music on stage and their conversation. In the center of the square, kids played tag—darting in circles like whizzing electrons. The kids didn’t seem to be paying much attention to the music, but they created a crucial part of its landscape. The sound of their hard sandals slapping the paving stones mixed with the quiet chatter of the adults and the trumpeting of the band. Often right at the moment that the music reached the peak of a crescendo one electron would whiz by and tag another with a slap.

If you follow the narrow path out of the main square you will come to other part of the festa. Here there is no bandstand, no nucleus of plastic chairs, only the flashing neon lights of the arcade games, American pop music, and tubs of gummy candies covered by sheets of plastic. Clearly the festa is set up to have two distinct areas—one for kids and one for adults—but it doesn’t function that way. The two parts fit together organically; kids dart in and out of the main square and adults stroll along the road past the lights of the arcade.

It was past midnight and I rested my head against the stairs, eyes drooping. I stayed because the life of this little cell—its nucleus of chairs and its whizzing electrons—held me there. I stayed until the music had stopped, people had gotten out of their seats to applaud, and the chairs had been moved back into the church. I watched the musicians climb down from the bandstand and then I began walking down the steps back to Casa L Orto.

Interview with two local fishermen Antonio...

escucharemos — Mon, 09 Jul 2012 12:41:18 +0200

Interview with two local fishermen Antonio D’urso & Dominico Galani

More Tomatoes...

kyramorris — Tue, 03 Jul 2012 18:21:32 +0200

…they just keep coming! This week Hallie began the process of canning tomatoes to try and keep up with our ever increasing supply. Yesterday the two of us finished up our first batch of 12 jars. It was my first time canning and so Hallie taught me the painstaking process of sterilizing each jar and lid. The hardest part was using the tongs to pull each slippery jar out of the vat of boiling water. We had special tongs for the task but it was still a challenge. Funneling the sauce into the jars without spilling any on the rim wasn’t easy either. I drew up some Casa L Orto labels by hand and we taped them on so that the recipients of the jars will know where the product came from! We’ve given away a few jars already—one to Salvatore at Bar Mare and one to Pasquale the barber—but we’ve only just begun.

This afternoon Jordan and I made the trip up several flights of steps and through the Piazza San Luca to the hardware store; a tiny hole in the wall stuffed with all the hardware goods you might need. We bought 30 more glass jars so there is sure to be more tomato sauce as well as some other canned goods on the way.

Tomatoes. A lot of them.

kyramorris — Tue, 03 Jul 2012 14:59:11 +0200

Yay! We have tomatoes! ~~Too~~ Many tomatoes.

It’s hard to believe that just a few weeks ago, we were all so bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, eagerly scavenging for even just a handful of the little red jewels. Ah, how young we were; how little we knew.

See, things are different now. The tomatoes just don’t seem to stop coming. And even with our discovery of the second most simple and tasty thing to do with a cherry tomato (the first being slicing it in half, sprinkling it with salt, and putting it in your mouth), we can hardly keep up with them. Good thing we love ‘em.

The Second Most Simple and Tasty Thing to do with a Tomato

- 1/2 c. extra virgin olive oil

- ~~too many~~ tomatoes (I used cherry tomatoes, but a larger variety would be equally delicious. Just halve them before roasting.)

- 2 medium sized white onions, cut into wedges

- handful of basil, torn

- 4 garlic cloves

- sea salt to taste

- 1/4 c. grated pecorino romano cheese

1. Preheat oven to 375 degrees Fahrenheit.

2. Toss all ingredients but the cheese in a large bowl until tomatoes are evenly coated with oil.

3. Arrange tomatoes on a baking sheet, top with grated pecorino, and roast for 45 minutes.

Raised Beds Planted

kyramorris — Sun, 01 Jul 2012 12:40:04 +0200

All seven raised beds have now been planted! The raised beds were planted to serve as an easily accessible kitchen garden. They contain: pepperoncini, chard, lettuce, radishes, parsnips, beets, dill, basil, chives, and parsley.

Adventures with Maurizio: Part I

kyramorris — Fri, 29 Jun 2012 17:23:00 +0200

We met Maurizio on the main road in Vettica. He pulled a small green plastic bag from his backpack, slipped his flip flops into it, and began to run barefoot down the hundreds of steps that lead to the beach. We found our friend Alfonso in his tiny white speedo, moving kayaks into the water, the white speedo standing out like a cutout against his redish-purple skin. Maurizio and Alfonso directed each of us to one of the kayaks set out for us and we began paddling along the coast.

We had been introduced to Maurizio and Alfonso the first day that Tess brought us down to the beach at Gavitella. 5 minutes after we jumped in the water, Hallie got stung by a jellyfish. As soon as she got out a man wearing a tiny white speedo came over to treat the sting with olive oil and garlic. While Hallie’s wound was getting treated Tess introduced us to Alfonso (the one applying the oil) and his friend Maurizio. The next thing we knew, Maurizio was rowing us all over to a secluded beach where he said there wouldn’t be any jellyfish—or medusa as they are called in Italian. We pulled the boat up onto the pebbly beach—the six of us (Maurizio, Tess, Hallie, Jordan, Alfonso, and I) straining to push it through layers of wet gray stones.

Once we had secured the boat I began eyeing a big rock/cliff that hung out over the water—wondering if I could climb it. Without hesitating Maurizio motioned to me to follow him to the other side of the boulder and helped me climb up through a narrow crevice. As we neared the top the rocks were so sharp that I could only walk by placing my feet on the little tufts of grass that grew in the cracks. Maurizio walked over the rocks without a problem—“your feet get used to it” he reassured me.

I had no idea that Maurizio was planning to jump off the rock, but when we arrived at the top he plunged headfirst into the clear water below—rolling into a somersault as he hit the water. I hesitated for a minute and then I jumped as well.

As I was playing in the tiny waves that washed into the beach he told me that when he was a kid, he and his friends used to take big rocks in the their arms and then, using the rocks as ballast, walk around under water. “It was like walking on the moon,” he said, “but you have to stay completely calm.”

On the beach, we lay on our backs as the sun went down, piling pebbles under our heads for pillows. Maurizio showed me the 3 foot stretch of shoreline where it was sandy by lying down at the edge of the beach and rolling over on the sand—legs dangling in the air.

It’s difficult to know how old Maurizio is. He is balding, but he keeps his hair shaved close to his head. His bald head gives his eyes an even more dramatic effect—like two brown half-domes that dance with energy. The gray hair on his chest is the only indicator that he is actually much older that he might seem rolling in the sand on the shore of the beach. I realized it’s not so much that he looks young, but that he lives as if he were still playing his childhood game: calmly walking underwater holding his rock—as if he were walking on the moon.

-Kyra

Night Running in Praiano

kyramorris — Fri, 29 Jun 2012 17:16:00 +0200

When I arrived in Praiano and saw the stairs, I assumed there was no way I would run while I was here. I was a serious cross country runner in high school and have run many different places on different terrain and in different conditions, but the stairs and winding roads still seemed too daunting.

One day during our first week at Casa L Orto, we decided to walk into Vettica (the town center) after a sweaty and exhausting morning weeding and stringing up tomatoes on the terraces. On our way back toward Casa L Orto we stopped at a trattoria to look at the menu. I felt so exhausted that I sat down on the cement against a railing. Somehow, in that moment of total exhaustion, I decided I should run back to the house to shake off the haze of heat and fatigue that was hanging over me.

To run from Vettica back to Casa L Orto requires running up what we call “the Vettica hill”—a hill that just keeps going up. It starts out steep and then it doesn’t flatten out until the top where it suddenly becomes a downhill. I ran up the hill—slowly—and was so happy to start going down the other side that I didn’t notice that there was a stretch of road where they had spread new cement. I ran right through. I left footprints that Jordan and Hallie saw as they walked by—wondering who had been silly enough to run through the wet cement. My plan had been to run straight back to the house, but instead I began running down the steps toward the beach at La Praia.

The route I took down to Praia feels a bit like a labyrinth—down 3 flights of stairs, sharp left, sharp right down another flight, sharp left, sharp right down another flight, left, more stairs, left, and then switchbacks down to the beach. Once on the pebbly beach at Praia I left my shoes on the stones and ran into the water.

When I was pleasingly cool again I got out, put my running shoes back on, and ran back up the labyrinth. I would run until I felt my legs couldn’t take it any longer and then I would walk up a few stairs, then run again.

After that first run I had to run every night. I extended and varied my runs a bit; sometimes I would run a long ways out the main road toward Amalfi before heading down to Praia, but my runs almost always ended with a swim at Praia and then the climb back up. I always ran late, beginning around 8 or 8:30 and so it was always dark by the time I got to Praia.

My favorite part of each run was turning the last corner on the cement path down to beach and seeing the water—completely clear under the lights from the restaurants. When I jumped in, I was in a magical pool—kissed with gold light on the surface and clear underneath. I would swim out a few strokes, but where the lights no longer shone it was dark and the water felt more foreboding. I would test myself to see how many strokes I could swim past the light before I got scared of getting stung by a jellyfish and turned around.

Sometimes I would float on my back and look up at the cliffs above Praia. As our friend Maurizio explained to me, for every beach along this stretch of coast there is a corresponding valley. When I looked up I didn’t see the valley—only the oval outline that the tops of the cliffs cut into the sky. With my ears in the water, all the sounds from the restaurants disappeared and I was suspended —suspended until the moment I took my head out of the water. Once I lifted my head out, all the noises, even the ones I hadn’t noticed before, came rushing in my ears: silver ware on plates, television broadcasters talking about soccer, glasses clinking, wine pouring, and children speaking in high pitched Italian. Then I would get out of the water and head back up the labyrinth.

When I reached the gate of Casa L Orto I would often see the same elderly woman out on her balcony, her tiny wrinkled frame bent over her railing. She would always great me with a smile, “Ciao bella.” Though clearly unsure why or where I had been running she was amused by me and my nightly routine.

A few days ago I noticed a slight pain in my left hip flexor. I had to miss my senior year cross country season because of a hip flexor injury and so as soon as I felt the pain I knew I had to take some time off from running, as much as I didn’t want to. For the past few days I have been resting my leg by training at the gym but there has been a missing piece in my days at Casa L Orto. After a few days of rest my leg is feeling better and tomorrow I think I will be able to go back to my nightly routine.

-Kyra

Friday's Guesthouse Dinner

hallub1993 — Tue, 26 Jun 2012 14:32:27 +0200

Kate and Andy Spade celebrated their last night in Praiano over a simple garden dinner at the finest dining room table in town.

Spaghetti with Lemon Garlic Confit and Pancetta

The Lemon Garlic Confit I used in the pasta is truly the most versatile and useful thing I know how to do in the kitchen. Make it once, and you’ll find that you’ll want it on more than just pasta. Crostini, marinades, roasted meats, roasted veggies, a spoon…

Lemon Garlic Confit

1. In a saucepan, submerge 7 peeled garlic cloves in extra virgin olive oil. Cook until fork-tender and golden brown, and remove saucepan from heat.

2. Remove the soft garlic cloves from the oil and mash them until they reach a paste. Then add them back into the olive oil.

3. Whisk in a bit of roughly chopped oregano, the juice of 3 lemons, and a handful of grated pecorino.

Garden Salad

I can proudly claim that this parchment-roasted Pezzogne made seven-year-old Bea Spade “even like the fish.” But let’s be real, how could you not love something that shares its roasting pan with onions, basil, and the first crop of sweet and plump cherry tomatoes?

Traditional method for stringing tomatoes using...

kyramorris — Fri, 22 Jun 2012 17:43:49 +0200

Traditional method for stringing tomatoes using bamboo—photo from Clementina’s garden.

Evening Farming with Clementina

hallub1993 — Fri, 22 Jun 2012 16:32:15 +0200

In the evening when we go down to water the terraces we often find Clementina, bent over in her white undershirt, pulling weeds out of her neat rows of vegetables. She keeps a white handkerchief tucked under one strap. From a distance her hair looks thick and brown, but when she bends over her tomatoes you can see that on the top her of head her hair is thin and white. Other times when I look out over the terraces from our kitchen window she is walking through the rows in her orange top and blue pants, smoking a cigarette.

Clementina and her husband used to be responsible for farming all of Casa L Orto’s terraces, but now Clementina comes only in the evenings to farm a small section on one of the lower terraces. With help from her son Pasquale, Clementina maintains a vegetable garden that feeds her family. She also keeps chickens and two rabbits. We ask Clementina about her garden and for suggestions with our work—she knows more about how to farm this land than anyone else.

The evening I took these photographs, we found Clementina watering her beans. She told us she had been lazy and hadn’t watered them in almost a week. Now she had to give them a good soaking. Clementina’s beans are planted alongside broccoli, not because the two are companion plants that use different nutrients (as I thought at first), but because the broccoli plants hold the soil in. She told us that she had to pull the broccoli plants out soon in order to give the beans more space and more sun.

Our conversation moved seamlessly from the garden to Clementina’s 1 ½-year-old grandson Lucca. Clementina’s face lit up as she described a joke that Lucca makes—I couldn’t fully understand her Italian but from her imitation I understood that he clasps his hands together as if to ask for forgiveness. Just then Lucca appeared several terraces above us, his mother holding him up to the railing. He showed us the motion himself, clasping his hands together and moving them back and forth. Clementina began climbing slowly up the terrace steps to join Lucca, but before she left she cut us two beautiful heads of lettuce to have for our dinner.

I am looking forward to spending more time with Clementina, because I want to learn from her about how this region used to be farmed and about the best ways of continuing to farm it today.

-Kyra

Tess is back in the states for 10 days—we miss you mother...

hallub1993 — Fri, 22 Jun 2012 14:16:22 +0200

Tess is back in the states for 10 days—we miss you mother Theresa!

Love,

The Interns

Stuffed Peppers - an Amalfi Classic

hallub1993 — Wed, 20 Jun 2012 16:14:50 +0200

The first sweet pepperoncini of the season made the perfect home for a stuffing of pancetta, mozzarella and anchovies.

Rosemary Sage Potato Chips

hallub1993 — Wed, 20 Jun 2012 15:48:32 +0200

See those chips up there? There isn’t a thing in them that we didn’t grow. Hope the Praiano locals enjoy this classic American food with literal Italian roots!

Guest House Garden Dinner Menu

hallub1993 — Mon, 18 Jun 2012 15:40:07 +0200

Baked Shrimp in Brodo

-Freshly caught gamberi

- White wine

-Olive oil

-Homemade shrimp broth (every inch of those guys was used!)

-Red onions

-Leeks

-Cherry tomatoes

-Rosemary

-Oregano

-Parsley

Lasagna di Verdure (without pasta)

-Zucchini

-Eggplant

-Potatoes

-Ricotta

-White wine

-Oregano

-One egg

-Salt and pepper to taste

-Grated Pecorino

Insalata Misticanza

-Wild arugula

-Bibb lettuce

-Carrot ribbons

-Thyme flowers

-Balsamic vinegar

-Olive oil

-Salt and pepper to taste

Alici Fritti

-Freshly caught anchovies, de-headed

-flour

-salt

-lemon juice

Garlic Lemon Chard with Pinenuts

-Rhubarb chard

-Garlic

-Lemon juice

-Salt

-Toasted pinenuts

Casa L Orto Apertivo

kyramorris — Mon, 18 Jun 2012 00:17:00 +0200

Minted Fava Spread with Pancetta

-1 c. blanched favas, shelled

- ½ c. grated pecorino cheese

- 1/4 c. fresh mint, chopped

- a few leaves of fresh basil, chopped

- ½ c extra virgin olive oil

- juice of one large lemon

- 1 round of pancetta, cubed and sautéed to a crisp

Herbed Caramelized Red Onion Spread

-2 red onions, diced

-3 tbsp. extra virgin olive oil

- 2 tsp. salt

-1 tbsp. fresh oregano

-1 tbsp. fresh thyme

-2 tbsp. butter

-1 tbsp. rendered pancetta pan drippings

-3 tbsp. white wine

-2 tbsp. balsamic vinegar

Discovering Roots: A Visit to the American Academy in Rome

kyramorris — Mon, 18 Jun 2012 00:08:00 +0200

Before arriving at Casa L Orto Hallie, Jordan and I spent 5 days in Rome. We planned our days around food, but our most important food stop by far was at the American Academy in Rome (AAR). Carol LeWitt had put us in touch with her friends at the AAR before we left for Rome and so we arranged a visit.

We stepped out of our cab outside the AAR and walked onto the grounds of what looks like a beautiful Italian villa—a soft orange color with an inner courtyard and fountain. The walls of the inner courtyard were covered in a blanket of honeysuckle and arches in the walls gave way to a colonnade/walk-way that went around all four sides. We crossed the courtyard and entered the building through a screen door. We found ourselves at the AAR bar where Gabriel the bartender made us all espresso. In addition to drinks, the bar at the AAR also sells organic granola, biscotti made in the kitchen, fair trade organic coffee, and something very hard to find in anywhere else in Italy—organic peanut butter. The walls surrounding the bar are covered in small frames—from a distance they look like multicolored tiles, but each one is a self-portrait done by an AAR fellow.

After finishing our espresso we were met by Laura Offendu, the manager of the Rome Sustainable Food Project, who gave us a tour of the grounds and explained to us a bit about the history of the AAR and beginning of the sustainable food project there. We saw the small garden and met the gardener who is responsible for it as well as a fellow who was volunteering for a few hours. We learned that though the garden itself is an important part of the Rome Sustainable Food Project, it cannot provide nearly enough food to support the whole Academy. An equally important part of the project is that the AAR began to source all their food from local producers.

We met Alice Waters at the long table that runs along an entire side of the inner courtyard. She was wearing an eggplant dress and sitting with her hands around a glass of French press coffee. When Hallie said that she was a cook Alice immediately replied: “just remember, less is more.” At first I wasn’t sure whether this was just a mantra she was reiterating to us, but as she talked with us about the Rome Sustainable Food Project and her project in public schools I saw that this was a statement that she continues to live by.

Alice led us through the kitchen where the lunch preparations were underway. The kitchen itself embodied “less is more”—all stainless steel surfaces and appliances with a few cooks in white coats. Cooking implements, ingredients, and finished products all had a rightful place. Nothing spoke more to the success of her project than the golden fingerling potatoes sizzling on the griddle. As we stopped to admire the potatoes and take in their scent, the cook told us that the potatoes came from a farm in a region of Italy that for a long time was un-farmable because no one could figure out how to drain it. It was Mussolini who finally succeeded in draining the area—creating an ideal landscape for cultivation.

The lunch table under the shade of the courtyard colonnade was set for 75 –running along two whole sides of the courtyard. In addition to the Mussolini potatoes the menu included pasta with fresh tomatoes, chilled cucumber mint soup, eggplant parmesan, and mixed green salad. For dessert, there were cherries and yogurt with apricot compote and honey. Waiting in line to get food, I recognized a professor I knew from Yale because she had lectured for my Directed Studies classes. I went up and introduced myself and we ended up sitting next to her during lunch and learning about the summer program she runs for Yale students in Rome. As it turned out she was only at the AAR that day by chance to see a friend, because the program she runs operates all over the city and students live in apartments in Trastevere. Listening to this professor describe her program in Rome and then getting advice from her about what sites we should visit during our remaining time there, I felt what Laura and Alice had told us about how the advent of the sustainable food project had transformed the atmosphere at AAR. According to Laura it used to be that only a few people would come to lunch at the AAR and now they had set a table for 75. It wasn’t only the number of people there but the pervasive warmth and openness of conversation I experienced that spoke to the success of the Rome Sustainable Food Project and “less is more.”

When we stepped outside the gate I felt as if I’d just left a utopia of sorts, the whole day—complete with delicious lunch—was almost surreal. As Hallie, Jordan, and I debriefed the day we became more and more excited about how we could potentially apply the model of the Rome Sustainable Food Project to Casa L Orto. At the time Casa L Orto was only an idea in our heads but we were already convinced that we could bring something from this incredible day to the project of our summer.

It has been just over a week since Hallie, Jordan and I arrived in Praiano and moved in at Casa L Orto. What Casa L Orto has that the ARR doesn’t is space and volume—we have the capacity to grow and are already growing way more food than we could possibly eat ourselves. What Casa L Orto still lacks is an outlet for our produce—since we do not yet have the permit needed to sell produce we rely on outlets for giving it away. This week we began by making zucchini bread with Casa L Orto zucchini and distributing this American specialty to people in town. We were met with confused looks when we declared that the item was “pane di zucchini” and several people asked us what time of day they should eat their zucchini bread, but the bread was received well. Luigi, the owner of a local hotel and bar called us to thank us for the delicious bread and declared when we saw him later that it was “the best thing he’d eaten.” Pasquale, the barber who lives right next door to Casa L Orto showed his gratitude by passing a plate of homemade cookies over the fence to us the next day. We are far from seating a lunch table of 75, but the community of Praiano is already responding to the power of simple food.