dinner in our farmhouse at agriturismo barbialla nuova

best.  jerry-rig.  ever.  open fire in the corner of the kitchen, and a steak sizzling on a rack, perched on a candelabra, bread toasting on top. 

it’s been quite a while now that place has taken on new meaning for me, but this meal hit home.  after a long day of wandering through an epically beautiful tuscan hill town, we returned to the farmhouse and got to cooking.

the steak, doubly certified—first as organic, and secondly as i.g.p. chianina-was raised at the bottom of the hill.  for the uninitiated, chianina is the storied, white, horned, tuscan beast which has been raised on italian soil since roman times.  one of the oldest in the world, the breed has been raised for both meat as well as draft work. 

the bread, sourdough, baked by a true artisan a few hundred yards away.  the oil, pressed on the grounds.  the pasta and the vegetables purchased from the nearby biodynamic estate pictured below. 

the wine, from a nearby biodynamic vineyard. the salt—oh, the salt—hand crafted the traditional way, and still wet from the sea.  all these tastes.  one place.  terroir.  

these flavors all came together in my bowl, married in my mouth, and made sumptuous little taste babies in my stomach.  as i chewed we all became one.  roots shot out of my feet, breaking the stone foundation below me, and held onto mother earth like the vines out my window.  branches shot out of my head, fruit bloomed from my ears, and i tasted, for perhaps the very first time—toscana.