The Perfect Minestrone

Shortly after we arrived in Cerro Veronese, we met the Simiele family.  Signor Simiele worked at the Gelati Sanson ice cream plant with Vincent. The family lived in Verona during the week, but on weekends and in the summer they moved up to Cerro.  Their cottage was perched on a cliff.  It faced south and had a view of the Adige river valley. Signora Simiele provided us with warm blankets and invited us for Sunday lunch.  There were five children in the family aged 16 to 4.  We soon became friends and spent many Sundays at their house.

Marie-Juliette and two little Simiele girls with poppies. I can't remember all the names.

Signora Simiele suggested we enroll the children in the village preschool. The thought was that the children would meet other kids and begin to learn Italian.  In the fall Marie-Juliette would be starting first grade with zero knowledge of the language.  The school was located on a tiny street behind a locked wooden door.  Inside there was a large garden, several small buildings and a chapel.  Miraculously the children were soon acclimated to the school. After a day or two they were happy to spend seven hours there each day (from 9 to 4).  They were fed a full lunch, took a nap and played.  From what I could figure out the program was not highly structured. I remember one tall nun with a cherubic face under her wimple who greeted us in the morning.  In the afternoon a tiny, wizened sister ushered the children out the door.   

These are the type of smocks Italian children wear to school; so they're all equal; clothes don't matter.

I remember one particularly wet, grey day.  I arrived at the small grocery store after dropping off the older two.  There were three crones standing together gossiping.  When I entered with Chris in my arms, all conversation stopped. In my memory they were all dressed in black with sturdy shoes.  For a moment they evaluated “la signora americana.”  I probably ventured a smile.  Then I asked the proprietor of the shop in my best Italian: “How do you make minestrone?”  Oh, my goodness, talk about the perfect ice-breaker!  There was an explosion of chitter-chatter. 

“Signora, you start with onions, then add carrots, chopped fine and celery.”  

“I always put pumpkin in minestrone!”

“Pumpkins, never.  Cauliflower.”

“Cauliflower is too bland.”

“Canned whole tomatoes.”

“I use pureed tomatoes.”

“Fava beans”

“I always begin with pancetta.

It went on like that for quite a while.  They all wanted to help me and pretty soon they were passing Christopher around from one set of arms to another.  He was happily licking a lollypop.

  

“What a beautiful little boy.”

I left the shop with bags of vegetables, a convoluted minestrone recipe and three new friends.