The Hills of Tuscany: A New Home in an Old Land (Paperback)

Central Italy's countryside, where "Everything was small to the measure of man," beguiled them; there "reigned the gentle Tuscan light, and silence, and a calm." They became contentedly sated by "pranzo," the four-course daily meal that resembles in quantity "our average Thanksgiving dinner," and decided to buy a farmhouse, to put down roots in the idyllic Tuscan hills.

Their enchanting dream was a challenging task. Mate spoke no Italian and was woefully ignorant of the vagaries of an agrarian existence. Nonetheless, he set about his search for their perfect home with a Quixote-like zeal, undaunted by a real estate agent cum undertaker who stored his listings with names of the recently departed in a shoe box. A parade of touted homesteads in abject disrepair didn't discourage him. Collapsed fireplaces and gaping roof holes were the norm. Mate zigzagged his way across unfamiliar terrain, following unmapped rutted paths, bouncing over rocky roads until he found his utopia, "a structure with perfect rhythm." La Marinaia The Sailor's Wife. Once that purchase was accomplished, attempts to have utilities turned on introduced him to an implacable, inscrutable Italian bureaucracy. It was explained that there are an almost infinite number of regulations in Italy, " . . . many dating from Roman times, some contradictory, some incomprehensible."

Settling in also meant becoming a part of the nearest town, Montepulciano, "built for humans not for cars, so the main street was just wide enough for conducting daily affairs, evening promenades, and small festive processions." The couple delighted in exploring closet-size shops run by often absent, usually amiable owners. Their nearest neighbor welcomed them with fresh goat cheese covered by a large fig leaf, and they attempted to improve their Italian by watching Telegiornale, the local televised news an "Italian version of reality, a flexible amalgam of fresh headlines, old footage, and clips from Steve McQueen movies."

More than an enthusiastic tribute to the ever astounding beauties of the Italian countryside, "The Hills Of Tuscany" is a paean to the pleasures of the palate as Mate describes in rapturous detail ravioli stuffed with ricotta and wild mushrooms, crostini spread with tuna and capers, rabbit ragu "spicy with tomatoes" plus a legion of dishes bathed, basted, stir-fried, swathed in or caressed by olive oil. He is also unreservedly passionate about the local wine, "wine as robust as the clay," "wine with a deep complexity that tingled all the taste buds."

Today, Mate lives with his wife and young son at La Marinaia, tending his olives and vineyard. It is there, he writes, that "we learned to live and enjoy life as the Tuscans do piano, piano, con calma." Slowly, slowly, with calm. The author's enthusiastic prose is infectious. His word pictures are captivating, as he unveils a Tuscany that is both serene and seductive. "The Hills Of Tuscany" is an invitation to follow your dream . . . especially if it leads to Italy.

- Gail Cooke

I read it when confined to bed in the depth of a British Winter and was immediately transported to Montepulciano and in particular to the stunning scenery of the Val d'Orcia. What better way to help the grey days disappear ?

It's also poorly written. Mate has almost no descriptive powers per se. He just tells us how sumptuous everything is. He also uses hyperbole so consistently that his observations become pointless. I thought a book like this would be interesting, but it's just self-indulgent and dull.