Lifestyle I

A Taste Of Tuscany

WORDS: CHLOÉ BRAITHWAITE | IMAGES: KATE DEVINE

Thoughts of Tuscany are often accompanied by visuals of rolling green hills and dirt roads lined by fragrant cypress. Groves of ancient olive trees sit beside sun-drenched fields of golden wheat and vineyards full of plump grapes ready to be crushed and fermented into bottles of heady Tuscan reds. But there’s more to this picture of Tuscany that we’re all familiar with. The region has a vast coastline of more than 600 kilometres and comprises an archipelago of seven islands. This unique geography shaped early Tuscan cuisine, cultivated over the centuries by the Etruscans – who laid the foundations for the local wine and olive oil production, and for whom the region was named – and the Romans before the Byzantines and Arabs.

This is the rich landscape in which Núria Cascante fell in love. Born in Spain, Tuscany now feels more like home for the yacht chef, thanks to its similarly hospitable culture. “I moved to Tuscany when I was 21 for my studies,” Núria smiles. “I barely spoke Italian back then and I used to live in a very small village. Despite that, I never felt like an outsider – unless I ordered a cappuccino at lunch time! Here, you just need a ‘buongiorno’ and a ‘grazie’ as your most used vocabulary and I promise you, you’ll be welcome forever.”

Originally, Núria trained in criminology, with a specialisation in forensic psychiatrics, but it was cooking that she fell for. “I’m a people pleaser, I always have been,” she smiles. “Even when I was working in restaurants, I always wanted to be a good host. I love having people around and cooking for them, making everyone feel at home.” She worked in a restaurant by the sea to support herself during her studies, and it was here that the young chef learned to develop her own style. “I’m not a fancy cook, I’d say. I love play. I love flavours. I love good produce. Family-type cooking, home cooking, big spreads. That’s what I love.”

Very quickly, her cooking caught the attention of a crew on a sailing yacht, with whom she became very good friends. “They were like, come on, you’re wasted here, Núria! What are you doing? Come work with us!’ So, I did.” She’s been cooking on sailing yachts – all Swans, coincidentally – ever since.

Núria used to live by Isola d’Elba – not on the island, but facing it. The archipelago is incredible, she says. “There are so many tiny islands, like Pianosa and Montecristo, and they’re kept very wild, very unknown,” she explains. “The tourism, like the ferries and all the things that would ruin a wild place, they’re not there yet. So, unless you have a boat, I don’t know if you would go there.”

It’s easy to lose yourself to your senses here, where la dolce vita is a way of life and an attitude. “It’s the smell of it,” says Núria, eyes closed to capture the scents. “It’s the smell of fruit trees and vines and the sea, and then some coffee. It’s like il dolce far niente, which I would translate as ‘the sweetness of doing nothing and not feeling guilty about it’. When the plan is no plan, when you have time to sit down for a bit. I’m Spanish, I love a siesta and a power nap after a pasta dish, for example.”

The fruit trees and vines and the sea are really what characterises the heart of Tuscan cuisine. It’s humble at its core, built around a philosophy of cucina povera, or a poor kitchen. “One of the things I’ve realised in Tuscany is that it’s hard to eat badly, it takes a big effort to be disappointed when it comes to food,” she says. “Even the most humble and unappealing shack on the road will give you a cheap and delicious meal – and they probably use their own olive oil and veggies from the backyard.”

Ingredients here are simple, good quality and seasonal. Nothing is wasted. Consider the essential Italian ritual of la scarpetta, the act of using a bit of bread to clean the plate, scooping the last ounces of flavour from the meal. Tuscan bread, made without salt, is perfect for this, deliberately subtle in flavour so as not to impinge on the original meal.

Many typical dishes, Núria says, can be traced back to so-called ‘peasant foods’, such as cacciuco, a fish soup from Livorno that uses only the cheapest fish, often left over from the markets; moscardini in umido – baby octopus cooked in a rich tomato-based sauce; or fresh pasta such as tortelli alla Maremma, tortellini stuffed with ricotta, chard or spinach, nutmeg and parmesan. Up in the hills or inland away from the sea, you’d simply swap the seafood for meat and wild game: think of bistecca alla Fiorentina – Florentine steak – or cinghiale, a kind of wild boar that’s popular throughout the region, deer or pigeon.

“It’s [all about] homestyle cooking in Tuscany,” Núria continues. “There is a lot of ragù, or a ragù bianco without the tomato. Or tagliatelle very simply prepared with butter and fresh shaved local black truffle right on the table. You need nothing more.” But if there’s one ingredient that’s essential to local cooking, it’s Tuscan olive oil. “There’s nothing like it,” Núria says. “It’s very young and green and crisp on the throat. In Italian, we call it pizzico, it almost itches the throat. It’s very hard to describe, but if I had a blind tasting of a hundred olive oils, I could pick which one is from Tuscany. It’s unbelievable.” You don’t need much more for flavour, says Núria. It can completely change a dish. “If you have good olive oil, you can transform the most insipid tomato – mind you, it’s impossible to find a flavourless tomato in Tuscany – but if you were to add olive oil and salt, it would blow your mind.”

We need to talk about the wine too, Núria says. You cannot eat Tuscan food without Tuscan wine. More than half of the local vineyards are planted with Sangiovese, one of Italy’s most cherished grapes. In Tuscany, it’s predominant, and many wines are slow to mature. The resulting bottles are often described as full-bodied and robust, with notes of plums and cherries, leather and tobacco, and woody herbs including sage or rosemary.

“As versatile as this grape can be, I’d describe its wines [as having] a lot of acidity and tannins,” Núria explains. “It pairs beautifully with rich Tuscan foods. A plate of pappardelle with wild boar ragù (pappardelle al cinghiale) without a glass of red is like having an oyster without Champagne – you’d be missing out!”