Tuscany in early fall

I love Italy. I love the way the land lies basking under the sun. I love the narrow roads winding past crumbling farms and vineyards. I love the quality of light, and the way it shines through grape leaves as they begin veraison in early fall. The way the buildings seem to gather around me as I make my way over age-worn cobblestones. The tiny alleyways hiding nooks full of curious treasures: handmade pottery, gossamer-thin blown glass, crusty loaves of fresh bread, strings of sausage hanging from hooks, wooden boards groaning under wheels of local cheese.

Yes, you knew this would come down to food. Italy is a food-lover’s paradise, and I ate my way across our little corner of Tuscany as though there were no tomorrow. Drank plenty of wine, too—but that’s a story for another day. During my 2006 trip I had planned to eat as many different kinds of things as I could, but one dish made me stop in my tracks. I ended up eating it four times at four different places, each time enjoying a new kind of bliss with my newfound love.

Cinghiale.

The flesh of the crafty and sometimes dangerous wild boar, cooked down in wine and secret spices until it literally falls apart in the most tender and succulent morsels I could ever hope to find: ladled over extra-wide pappardelle noodles with a drizzle of olive oil and a few slivers of local aged cheese (and paired with a nice local Chianti), this dish made me feel like a Medici princess every time I ate it.

I have not enjoyed cinghiale since my trip, but I certainly have not forgotten my new love. As none of the mighty hunters in my family has brought a hairy boar carcass to my door, I finally decided to improvise on this ancient dish with venison—and I have been very pleased with the results. Some newer versions of cinghiale call for fairly brief cooking time, but the older Tuscan method calls for marinating the meat in wine for a couple of days, and then adding your secret spices and cooking it down for up to a day. I went with the old way, and I have been very, very happy. Not vacationing in Tuscany happy, but very close if I shut my eyes while I am chewing.

Tuscan-Style Venison

Check out my recipe–we’ll call it Tuscan-Style Venison. I think it is so perfectly Italian: it takes a very long time (no American rushing around), and it will feed you very well.

** Want to dig a little deeper into preparing wild game? I have added an article that expands on this venison recipe. You may find it here. **

Walls of medieval Volterra