Forgot your password?

We just sent you an email, containing instructions for how to reset your password.

Sign in

  • Sassari is 30 minutes from the seaside.

    Between Sassari town and the seaside lies the countryside: 'la campagna'.

    And every self-respecting Sassarese has his bit of 'campagna', often handed down through the generations so that what was originally land with the equivalent of a garden shed and a stand pipe has become a Palladian villa (unbeknownst to the authorities, of course) but still with land, land, land.

    For there is nothing dearer to the Sassarese heart as the cultivation of summer vegetables: cucumber, 'cetrioli', zucchini, 'zucchinE', and aubergines, 'melenzane'.

    In fact, so dear is the latter vegetable to the said heart, they even have a song singing its praises. Yes, I'm singing it under my breath as I write ('o-o-o-o-o ma-lign-annnne/ o-O-OO MA-lign-aannne and so forth unvaryingly and for a rather long time).

    But now things have come to the crunch.

    Every single Sassarese has to find some way to deal with the inordinate quantities of the stuff produced.

    Over the past few days, I have answered the doorbell to crates and crates of it, gamely supported by, in turn, Mariella, Virginia, even Hannah (who's Polish and should know better).

    And they know, as I do, even while we smilingly, ENTHUSIASTICALLY, greet this cornucopia or 'ben di Dio', that each and everyone of us has a lumber-room we don't dare open the door on for fear of being nutted by a falling vegetable.

    Only this morning I was party to a fevered, desperate exchange of recipes, and methods of putting down the stuff so at least it gets to September. And then the rounds will start again. Only this time, not crates of them fresh, but carrels of them under glass.

    Tonight the Blessèd Benedetta popped by.

    Bearing fresh ice-cream from La Pasticceria Vanari; we had some 'affogato', that is with a good splash of coffee.

    And the Blessèd One came up with the solution.

    Load up the car and take the lot to the 'Caritas'.

    What we have in plenty, so much so that we complain about, so many do not have at all.

    That doesn't solve the problem of the cucumbers, however.

    Jaga? jaga n .a. argentum? Any ideas?

    Image: part of a recent 'delivery'. These won't go to the 'Caritas' because they were harvested too early, and are not very nice to look at. Regarding food, we say here 'anche l'occhio ha la sua parte'.
    • Share

    Connected stories:


Collections let you gather your favorite stories into shareable groups.

To collect stories, please become a Citizen.

    Copy and paste this embed code into your web page:

    px wide
    px tall
    Send this story to a friend:
    Would you like to send another?

      To retell stories, please .

        Sprouting stories lets you respond with a story of your own — like telling stories ’round a campfire.

        To sprout stories, please .

            Better browser, please.

            To view Cowbird, please use the latest version of Chrome, Safari, Firefox, Opera, or Internet Explorer.