It was bound to happen. We came prepared. But still, when Sophia’s skin turned so hot to the touch that it seemed her pajamas gave off steam, it was a serious disappointment and just plain sucked. So she and I spent the day at home; her on the couch watching Tom and Jerry and Looney Tunes cartoons on DVD, and me outside writing in the garden and doing endless loads of laundry. It would all be sort of pathetic if not for the grape vines surrounding my “desk” and scent of basil, thyme, rosemary and lemons drifting through the air. There are worse ways to spend the day in Italy.
Isabel and Corey did all the shopping at the market in town and later at the grocery store in order to restock the house. Here’s what we’ve learned so far about Italian supermarkets. First of all you weigh and tag all of your produce yourself. The girls LOVED this. You put your veggies or fruits on the scale punch in the unique code written on the little price sign and out come your label with the weight and price on it. You slap it on the bag and off you go. Another thing we’ve learned is that it’s very hard to find fresh, refrigerated milk. The Italians much prefer the shelf-stable kind. When you do stumble upon the cold milk its only sold by the liter which is a very small amount for a family that eats cereal every morning and has kids that actually drink glasses of milk. We also can’t find mustard anywhere.
My sister in-law hired a private chef to cook at their villa last week. She asked him why the bread in Italy was so bad. Continue reading