A Gift for Your Palate

I squint my eyes to allow in a stream of light from the window. My ears become acutely aware of the rustling made by the other volunteers making breakfast in the kitchen. With a great big yawn and stretch, I welcome in the new day. Then I join my fellow WWOOFERs (workers on organic farms) in the kitchen and share a kind smile with each of them. Crunchy biscotti dipped in tea has become my morning ritual for the past week and despite the routine, I'm excited every morning to eat it again. Once we've all consumed our breakfast, we throw on our warm yet mud caked layers and slip our feet into black galoshes. Outside the morning sun kisses the golden fields and illuminates the rows of olive trees.
We separate into groups and circle the newest trees, ready for a day of olive picking. Although I love sliding my hands through the lively branches to relieve fresh olives, I still find myself counting the hours until we can join the farmer for lunch. At lunchtime, we all wash the layers of dirt off our hands and help Grandma Barbi set the table. Everyone bounces in the chairs like little kids at a birthday party excited to eat the cake but instead of cake our mouths are watering for fresh green olive oil and hand rolled picci pasta. Once the table is covered in our first and second courses, we pile it all on our plates. I dip my Tuscan white bread into the olive oil until the entire piece drips green. Each bite stings my palate with a fresh from the tree taste. Red wine, purchased up the road, dyes our lips crimson as we smile and stuff our faces with more pasta and tomato sauce made straight from the garden. After filling up on caprese, pasta, and the second course of moist chicken breast, we unbutton the top of our pants and make room for dessert. Vilmo switches out the bottle of red wine with a vin santo dessert wine and dishes up chocolate gelato and panetone bread. He smiles before digging in and says, “now this is a real Italian meal!”