It's not a glamorous life, but it's a good one. The sentimental feeling of driving miles up the curvy mountains of Pontremoli, Tuscany to a village the size of a small street  where your grandmother once grew up, was invaluable. It was like I set out on a mission to find the past for the present. I was so aware of everything around me too, that I felt I must capture it all at once. I never used a camera so much until this very weekend. I wanted to capture those long unforgotten memories of my grandmothers life- I know she still remembers much- and hope for one day to tell my own stories too. The curvy valley views, the sound of the rocky stream, buzzing bees, or a rooster crow created that rustic, nature vibe that many people yearn to live in this hectic lifetime. My weekend was wrapped around meeting new family and eating familiar food that I grew up craving. The connections and the emotions were finally linked together in this small village named Groppiadiloggia. 

 My cousin took me into lower Pontremoli so I could see the town. I had been hearing about this sweet called Amor- similar to pronunciation of amore, but not spelled as so- that is typical of Pontremoli. Amor is a pastry made with pastry cream whipped with butter and sandwiched between two wafer cookies and then rolled in cake crumb. I loved how fluffy the cream was and how it left a seam of fat on the roof of your mouth from so much butter! I could not appreciate food so much in this instance. The more places I travel in Italy, I truly realize the rules of eating in the country. It's like each town or city or street the size of groppiadiloggia have it's own food item to contribute to that regions cuisine. And it's so special being able to eat particular foods in the place it was concieved. 

The stream that swerves around the mountains and down into town is such a tranquil place to stare. I could slip away outside at any moment last weekend to find peace if I wanted. After dinner on Friday night my family pulled out a shoebox full of pictures and I came across this one of my grandma. She too, was sitting by the river taking in the vibrant sunlight, swooshing sounds, and fresh crisp scent of water and rock while her tiny son jumped about the slippery slopes.  I suppose it was slightly less peaceful for her, but still a place she could always link back to and a symbol of the small village she once lived in. 

 I was totally craving one meal after the next. I was always so distracted by the meer idea of the next meal. Like day and nigh we ate La Bomba Reali- the bomb of the king- and Torta di Riso or Potato. Gosh! It was so crazy. I grew up eating this food when my grandma would make it a couple times a year and now I'm here eating it from the motherland. It was so incredible finally making that link to something mysterious: torta? la bomba? where did those foods come from and why? Always why. Why do we eat torta in Pontremoli? Who thought of making a huge rice bomb filled with meat? I also thought my grandma was the only person who ever invented those things, but I was so terribly terribly wrong. She could have very well learned from those who I met last week. The little ladies tucked away in their kitchens with slippers and an apron, every single one in that village was dressed the same way. Those ladies were making history happen.

Great uncle Pietro has an apiary. As if the village people were not interesting enough, this sweet animal loving man raised bees for honey. To my happy surprise he has a laboratory under his home to produce and bottle honey for market. It just seemed all so early nineteen hundreds to me. Everything so rustic, simple and not too showy, cut down to simplicity. The honey too was way different. It tasted very floral and produced from chesnut tree bees who pollinated from their. 

The Easter morning tradition in the house of my family was to have eggs with salami. Eggs of course symbolize birth and all that Easter fun lingo. Salami too is very common to have in the spring time nearing Easter in Pizza Rustica or Easter Pie which family from my other side makes. Uncle Piertro here getting his fill before going off to tend to her baby bunnies.

Crucendo bread! It sounds like the crucendo in an orchestra under the stage at a broadway show, and is similar in context too. The bread is huge, flat, and raised a few inches off the table. The fluffy, somewhat dense bread was torn all about the long table on Easter. It was very hard to put down when eating with prosciutto crudo or roasted oil soaked peppers. I made sure I got the recipe before leaving.

Testeroli is possibly the most interesting food item from Pontremoli. Once again, the type of food only found in this particular region. All may say it looks similar to a johnny cake or taste like pasta, but it's practically neither. Flour, water and salt, poured onto a griddle and toasted on each side like a pancake. They are produced into these enormous flat round disks that get  cut into diamonds, dunked into boiling broth for a minute to soften and eaten with pesto or parmesan cheese and olive oil. Being that Pontremoli is so close to Liguria, the region known for it's DOP basil and pesto genovese, the testeroli has adapted to this sauce and quite well!