The friends walk in groups of two or more abreast, arms locked, in an impossibly slow pace. The couples emerge on Sundays, mooching around, holding hands, erratically zig-zagging in the pavement, or abruptly stopping.
General MacArthur stood with his back to the mantelpiece. He pulled at his little white moustache. That had been a damned good dinner! His spirits were rising. Lombard turned over the pages of Punch that lay with other papers on a table by the wall. Rogers went round with the coffee tray. The coffee was good, really black and very hot.
The whole party had dined well. They were satisfied with themselves and with life.
– From “And then there were none”, by Agatha Christie.
As I mentioned in an earlier post, the agroturismo we stayed on had kiwi trees, so it’s not surprising that the starter for one of the dinners was a platter with kiwi jam, fresh cheese, harder cheese, peach and… fresh kiwis!
On arrival to the agroturismo, we were offered an aperitivo, with olives, crisps, bread, cheeses, and white wine from the region, produced by a nearby vineyard.
After we had either opened our appetite or obliterated it with cheese, it was time to have dinner.
This was the opening, and I really liked its simplicity: bread, rosemary, olive oil and very mature figs. The combination of sweet and salty worked really well, and the rosemary added that extra complexity of aromas for a memorable snack.
✍🏼 Adding it to my list of “things to replicate at home” 🤓
