Even when I spend a massive amount of time planning an adventure, I derive the most pleasure from the unplanned, atypical experiences. I’ve learned to make a plan, but be open to deviations. This year, my mom and I celebrated her birthday, a big one, by spending two weeks in Italy. We wanted to spend most of our time seeing the famous sights of Florence and Rome, but worried it would be overwhelming. So we decided to spend three days between city visits at Fattoria Castiglionchio, a Tuscan farm about 10 miles east of Florence.

When the train pulled up to Pontassieve, the town closest to the farm, we noticed a contrast from the Florentine landscape. Although, Pontassieve had medieval roots, much of the town was destroyed by Allied bombing during WWII. The restoration in the ‘40s and ‘50s resulted in a more industrial, concrete appearance that hasn’t aged well. After the majesty of Florence’s medieval edifices, Pontassieve appeared worn down. The weary gray buildings matched the dreary sky that day. We were relieved to escape the bland city blocks as we headed toward the textured greenery of the Tuscan vineyards.
Rather than rent a car to explore the area, I figured we would need a break from the Renaissance, grand basilicas and busy schedule before heading to Rome to take on the Vatican museums, the Colosseum and the Pantheon. We planned to hole up in the countryside, experiencing rural Tuscany and sampling wine from the farm’s vineyards.

But staying at a farm in Tuscany is much like renting a cabin in the Colorado mountains in that you’re expected to bring your own supplies. Unfortunately we brought less than we needed and had to return to Pontassieve to stock up. I suggested we walk the three miles since the fast and bumpy van ride up to the farm offered just a blurred glimpse of the landscape. The mountains in Tuscany are an older range, more akin to Colorado’s foothills, but dense with greenery nonetheless. Ancient farmhouses peek out from trees and long rows of grape bushes spread out along the hillside.

Mom wasn’t initially thrilled with the idea, but we spoke to an enthusiastic young woman at the farm who convinced us it was an easy walk to town. She suggested we eat at one of the restaurants and have someone from the farm transport us back when we were finished. The promise of food and a car ride for the uphill return trip sealed the deal.

After visiting the American-style supermarket and purchasing our supplies, we perused the list of restaurants recommended in the farm’s mini guidebook. Some weren’t open for lunch and others I couldn’t find on the map. Feeling a little frustrated, I finally figured out the location of Toscani da Sempre. The restaurant description said Chef Stefano Frassineti had a “passion for fresh ingredients” and extensive knowledge of local wines. The mention of a “surprise gift” intrigued us.

When we neared the address, we saw what appeared to be an alley. I looked at the map quizzically, mom looked at the slight incline, and we had our doubts. There didn’t appear to be any storefronts in that direction, just housing. We ventured forth and were ultimately victorious as we saw a slender green doorway with a “Toscani da Sempre” sign on the wall above it. A tall, bearded man wearing dark framed glasses greeted us warmly. Using the most basic Italian, I indicated we would like a table for two.

Now, we had just spent a week in Florence, a city accustomed to foreign tourists. Most people spoke English and restaurant staff presented English menus without asking. When Chef Frassineti presented the menu board in Italian, we were a little nervous. I can translate a few basics but, luckily for us, he returned and spoke in proficient English. He asked where we were from and mentioned that he visited Beaver Creek once, declaring “Very COLD!” and almost shivering as he said it. He said an American food magazine invited him and a few other Italian chefs to participate in a chef’s tour around the world. When he added that it was Bon Appetit, I suspected we might be in for a treat.

After discussing the menu with the chef, we settled on sharing a first and second course, a common way to order in Italy due to the large portions. True to its name, the risotto primavera had all the colors and flavors of spring vegetables. The vegetables were prepared just right — not mushy or hard, but with the proper amount of resistance when bitten. The steak arrived without a fussy sauce, just a modest amount of salt that enhanced the tender juiciness of a well-prepared cut of beef. The crispy, golden potatoes almost glowed on the plate. I normally fry potatoes in butter, but the satisfying, savory flavor of olive oil made me rethink my culinary choices.

My mother and I are not big drinkers. She enjoys the occasional margarita, rose or sweet Riesling while I prefer mojitos and dark red wines such as a Cabernet or Malbec. Neither of us had experience with Italian wines. We’d discovered that the lighter Chiantis weren’t our thing and, in fact, seemed to have an unpleasant sourness. Since Chef Frassineti was acclaimed for his wine knowledge, we took his recommendations without hesitation and enjoyed a darker Chianti Rufina Cedro from Fattoria Lavacchio, which surprised us both. Finally, we had sampled a mild, fruity wine that went well with our meal and pleased our divergent palates.

Our delight at the first courses made the decision to order separate desserts easy. I had a light, whipped cream mousse with delicate, flaky cookies. Mom tried a dense, chocolate, hazelnut confection I almost stole off her plate.

What distinguished this restaurant from others we had visited was that it reflected modern Italy. Sure the chef drew on the tradition of fresh, local ingredients, classic cuisine and fantastic wine. But he put his own twist on it. Instead of trying to recapture the ambience of the past, the décor had a clean, modern feel with plain white walls housing shelves of wine and bright red plastic chairs. As we prepared to leave, euphoric from excellent food and wine, the chef presented us with a small jar of homemade peach sauce, our “surprise gift” as promised.

That day, we experienced a piece of authentic Italy, hidden in an alley-like street in an unassuming building. A day that began with a hurdle ended with a delightful surprise. I couldn’t have planned it better.