Ci spiace, ma questo articolo è disponibile soltanto in English.
Nel 2003 Rebecca ha iniziato a scrivere dei saggi per il sito Slow Travel, raccontando la sua esperienza di ragazza di città che dagli Stati Uiniti si è trasferita nella campagna umbra.
Le sue riflessioni sono riprodotte qui.
Umbria Slow:
I am trying to decide if I should kill myself eating the torta di Pasqua or if I should refuse to go to heaven unless I am given large daily amounts of it. You know I’m allergic, this is a torture.
Oh Rebecca,
Lordy lordy lordy! Or should that be Lardy lardy lardy!
This shouldn’t be just for Easter!
What a wonderful way of baking too – love the image of sealing the oven with mud!
Giselle
I love Torta di Pasqua! It’s one of the things I miss about Italy. I like when it has walnuts in it, too. That extra, nutty crunch is so good! You’re so lucky to have so many wonderful farmwives around to make it for you. I hope you’re learning the lessons well for when you’re a farmwife of 62-87. You’ll need to teach your sons’ farmwives, too.
Letizia, after the almost entire loaf I went through between last night and this morning, I’m not feeling so well and I’m not even lactose intollerant! Though, given that one has to die eventually, I can’t think of a better way to go. Okay, maybe there is one better way to go. (I was thinking of chocolate! You have such a dirty mind….)
Giselle, I just love all the tradition surrounding the torta…they make it before holy Saturday because then it goes in a basket with a salame, some hard-boiled eggs, a bottle of wine, and some salt to get blessed at Mass and the contents of the basket are then eaten for breakfast on Easter morning. Lovely country traditions that have to be documented now before they die out!
George, the one with nuts is called pan casciato (cheese bread as well, but with a slightly different recipe)…that’s more of a fall dish, and one I love as well. Another caloric bomb.
Lovely article and photos! When we moved to our farm ten years ago, we arrived exactly at Easter. The first day here, an elderly couple came by to inquire if we had started the wood oven. Later… too late, I’m afraid… I understood that my very large forno was probably at one time the community oven.
Aren’t those the things that bother you years afterwards…toes you had no idea you were trodding on, traditions you had no idea you were breaking? Part of the heartache of the expat life…
Delightful story! I LOVE the recipe! You made me chuckle outloud, reading it. Thank you so much.