If you have picked up a travel magazine anytime over the past 20 years, I am sure you have been given advice regarding travel spots in Italy. Italy has been and has stayed one of the most traveled destinations of all time, most particularly Rome, where the city’s amber light and historic wonders fill you with a romance rivaled only by Paris. Outside of Rome, tourists have continually flocked to Florence, Venice or Pisa for great art and architecture.

Yet, over the past 10 years or so, Tuscany became the greatest destination spot outside of Rome as agritourism flourished. Vacationers flocked to the hills for great food, wine and olive oil. The English bought villas and implanted themselves as they had done in France for generations. Tuscany was then followed by Umbria, and now even a bit of Romagna (holding its beloved city of Bologna) as a sure hit on the list. Yet remarkably, Le Marche was somehow missed...   but not for long. 

Like a quick-eyed bird hunter, I have already spotted the English lounging in countryside villas and combing its medieval towns. In addition, the AARP has deemed it one of the top places to retire in the world. Thus, sadly, Le Marche will not be my little secret, but then again, why keep something so beautiful to myself?

I have been lucky to have the opportunity to travel Le Marche and get to know its treasures in an intimate and almost familial way. Within its regional borders, one can sample a taste of all Italy has to offer. From its hills of sunflowers to its coastal seas; from its medieval towns to its legend filled mountains; from Roman ruins to modern shopping—Le Marche has EVERYTHING.

Since I am a gastronomic lover, where discovery of a culture begins with my palate, this trip to Le Marche was designed to follow the dish—and from the dish to the preparer, and from the preparer to the belevedere. From the tiny to the great, I would learn something I hadn’t learned before.

I could still hear my suitcase rolling out of the terminal and onto Italian soil when Presto! I am sitting in an apartment being fed spaghetti con vongole (spaghetti with clams)—the Adriatic Sea burst in my mouth as these tiny clams said hello. From that moment until I had my last bit of gelato on the return flight from Rome, this particular trip was a journey of the senses I had not expected, and I have the extra pounds to prove it.

I hope you enjoy reading this journey… it all starts this week. Benvenuto!

Elise McMullen  a.k.a. The Galavant Girl

 

There seems to be a growing consensus that breakfast is the most important meal of the day. It gives you energy; it helps you lose weight; you spend more time with your kids; it helps you work; and the list goes on and on. However, one reason not mentioned often is that psychologically, breakfast is important. Most people don't like to get up and cook something first thing. They want to sleep till the very last minute. Sleep is prized, and understandably so. But, I have found that getting up, and having that extra 30 minutes to an hour to prepare, sit and eat breakfast makes all the difference in the world regarding the remainder of the day. Here's why.<< MORE >>

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If you live abroad for sometime and then return back to your home country, the last few weeks and months of your stay become more meaningful and significant. You try to put things into your schedule that you had planned on "getting to later". You try to see everyone that has been a part of your journey and say your goodbyes. You thoughtfully construct the life to which you are heading, while simultaneously closing the one you have been living. Life feels uncertain and emotional. In these moments, humans need a bit of ceremony. << MORE >>

I've known people who have said, "I just eat for fuel." When I hear this, I am always saddened for them. I want to cook them everything in my repertoire and show them the joy of food. Understandably, not everyone needs to be a "foodie," but with this philosophy, a major source of feeling alive and well is lost. They have no connection to their food source. There is no pleasure in the process. There is no savoring. Dung is fuel, too, but I wouldn't eat it! I had been thinking about how so many busy New Yorkers either eat out or order in, rather than preparing food themselves. Now, there is a place for eating out. But, continuously eating out, New Yorkers save on time, but lose financially. They also lose out on what I call "food healing." Let me explain.<< MORE >>

It was an ordinary day. It was a day full of life's stresses. I was thinking too much about money. I was thinking too much about my need for a vacation. The daily grind had just "gotten to me." And, then out of nowhere, walking through the park near City Hall, I heard a piano. Maybe it was a busker. Maybe an event was happening. I rounded the curve and there was a man, sitting at a psychedelic piano. I stopped. My thoughts stopped. The music invited me to sit on a nearby bench and listen. So I complied.<< MORE >>

What is it about Spring? What is it that makes us so stupid on the most beautiful days of the year? Is it the air? Is it the sun? Is it the pollen? The weather in and of itself does not let us do our work. It won't take no for an answer. Like a precocious child it pulls you towards the green of the parks and the budding trees and doesn't let you go. I, for one, cannot resist the Greenmarket at Union Square, and now with my mission being "food in NYC," I had a genuine excuse to get outside.<< MORE >>

  Hello all my dear Galavant Girl Followers....