The previous day, Rosa had suggested she take us on an excursion to Alberobello, famous for it's hobbit-like houses called trulli which are forbidden to be dismantled; and a entire trulli town exists which is a world heritage site. We eagerly agreed to go and see this, and made our way to Gran Caffe Tito Schipa on the Monday morning.
We arrived and ordered espressos while Rosa busied herself serving the biggest group of people we'd seen the whole time we'd been there, and The Blonde and I started to worry that this might be a coach trip full of people who can't speak English, and that it would be awkward...
We needn't have panicked though, a good 45 minutes after the agreed meeting time (Rosa needed to have a cappuccino and smoke about 6 cigarettes), the three of us got into her convertible Renault and we made our way to Alberobello down remote roads flanked by olive groves and industrial units. The Blonde was cramped up in the back while I was treated to the sight of the road head on as Rosa threw the car around the narrow roads, whilst not wearing a seatbelt and having the odd cigarette out of the window.
After a slightly hair-raising hour, Rosa pulled up in the pretty town of Alberobello and we stiffly got out of the car and enjoyed a potter round in some fresh air.
Alberobello was a really unusual place and exquisitely pretty, with trulli as far as the eye can see. The thing is though, once you've seen one trullo, you've sort of seen them all. The town felt very touristy and every other trullo was a souvenir shop. I took pictures of one such shop, and the owner came out and ushered me in for a look around. He was also kind enough to open up his loft stairs and motion me up them to get a great panoramic view of the whole place.
He also gave us many samples of the Puglian liquers he was selling - in the space of about five minutes we'd had cactus liqeur, almond liquer, limoncello, chilli grappa (extremely strong) and various other potent digestifs from the same cup. We'd had a crispbread each for breakfast so we both staggered out of the trullo with a bagful of dubious liquers and some almond biscotti. Good sales technique.
On the return journey, Rosa took us via the coast to drive through Torre Canne to see the golden beaches. It wasn't really beach weather, but the sun came out despite the grey sky and the landscape was vivid. Then she said something which struck me with pure terror.
"We have restaurants here, sell only fish. Apulian speciality is, how do you say.... urchin?"
The Blonde and I exchange glances.
"I take you to restaurant and we try, ok?"
In my head I am thinking no no NO, since I am squeamish about seafood as it is, so the thought of an exotic sea urchin is actually making me feel a bit queasy. I've only been eating prawns and mussels for the last two years, for God's sake.
Rosa pulled into a restaurant where an old man was smoking around the back, and a well-fed slightly feral-looking dog was scampering round. Rosa asked in Italian if they were open, to my utter relief, it wasn't. No sea urchin for me! It would have been the dilemma of offending our hostess, or quite possibly trauma and vomiting. No one wants that. Especially me. The Blonde and I made disappointed noises and said "Next time! When we comeback in summer, yes!"
We were kindly invited to go and eat after the trip again with Rosa, so we happily accepted for the sake of Italian authenticity. Rosa laid out a spread of foie gras, salami, ham, cheeses, bread and her homemade white wine again, we were very happy. We assumed this was lunch, but this being Italy, there was more to come. As we digested the first course, Rosa whipped out a dish of the Apulian speciality pasta, orichiette ("little ears"). She served it with salty fish (I think it was anchovy) and a vegetable which was like a skinny broccoli. Unusually, you eat it with crispy breadcrumbs sprinkled over the top, and it's totally delicious.
Full and dozy again, Rosa's sister Annamaria popped out this time, with her homemade caramel panna cotta and cherry wine liquer she brewed herself. All completely yummy and moreish but by this time The Blonde and I had to go home and struggle up the hill for a little sleep and a kick back.
What better game to pass the time is there than 'Shag, Marry, Ditch?' (actually there are many, many better ways to pass the time but it seemed a great suggestion at the time) We enjoyed another bottle of the local vino and spent some time in the afternoon sat on our balcony trying to give each other really hard choices, and cracking up at the consequent answers. Which go no further than that balcony in Ostuni.
After such a heavily indulgent afternoon, there was no need to go out for dinner this evening. We spent it listening to a wonderful storm, watching more films and discovering an awesome Italian series called Un Medico In Famiglia which was a long programme and contained plotlines about a chocolatier, a riding school, doctors and bored housewives. Utterly brilliant, my new favourite series. No idea what they were saying for most of the time but somehow the blonde and I knew what was going on.
"Ooo quick, pour that wine and get over here, she's pregnant with his baby!"
"Oh my God, what a cow, can't believe she did that!"
"Why has she built a church out of white chocolate?" (This was a real observation and an example of the stunning plotlines.)
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