I have fallen for Puglia. Big time. Perhaps because most people don’t even know where it is, perhaps because of its lushness, perhaps its food, perhaps its people. I want to go back – soon, this summer, tomorrow.
Puglia, FYI, is the heel of Italy. It’s not easy to get to but harder to leave. Puglia is also the garden of Italy with olives as its key product. The people of Puglia say their region has three seas: the Adriatic Sea, the Ionian Sea and the olive sea. I like that and they’re not wrong.
There are sixty million olive trees in Puglia, one for every Italian, and I think I saw at least a million of them. Some are a thousand years old! I love olives. I love olive oil. I love Puglia.
We were there because Mr Carmichael did a very good job at his job in 2013 and this was his reward. I got to tag along. I’m a good tagger-alonger, always up for an opportunity to accompany almost anybody.
Dropped in the most exquisite Borgo Egnazian accommodation we were fed, watered, wined and entertained for five days. I got to make pasta and more importantly got to eat it too.
I am now on a diet. Well, I will be on Monday once I’ve cooked and eaten all the pasta I brought home. I discovered that not all Chardonnay is ghastly. Pulian Chardonnay is fantastico. I made sure I drank lots of it and took photos of the labels for restocking purposes.
Obviously I tried the rose and the reds as well. It would have been churlish not to.
I had this with the rose.
And this just before a wobbly bike ride back to the hotel and a well deserved nap.
I visited Ostuni (a fortified white town with a Baroque cathedral) where I seem to have taken 37 photos of doors.
Somebody stop me!
In Ostuni, I devoured my second gelato in two days (arrrgh). The café had a bordelloish quality to its decoration, which I appreciated (almost as much as the ice cream).
And then we moved here for our last night. British Airways doesn’t think anyone wants to fly to/from Puglia on a Sunday and for that I thank them.
Here, Teo opened the restaurant at lunch time just for us (even though it wasn’t May yet) and we slept under blankets crocheted by an 85 year old woman with extreamly nimble fingers.
The Masseria Ceravolo is a gem and a heartfelt recommendation for when you are no longer on the company buck.
I love Puglia and shall return sooner rather than later. Grazie mille, Puglia.