The Siena Sausage
All I really wanted was a sausage - prosciutto, to be precise. The last time I was in Tuscany I had the most delicious wild boar prosciutto (it still had the rough boars hair attached and everything) and was intent on sampling it again. I took the short train ride from Florence to Siena to spend the day and planned to do not much more than find yummy things to eat and wander the winding, hilly streets.
I was getting hungry for lunch so I poked my head into this little place that looked promising (there was a boar head welcoming guests at the threshold so that’s a good sign). It was small, dark and bustling with people ordering sandwiches, charcuterie and wine. I studied the display case to see what looked good, and this large, boisterous man with a big red moustache approaches me and asks in a very strong Italian accent if I’d like some wine. It was past noon, why not?
I’m sipping and waiting my turn to order some charcuterie when a small board appears on the counter in front of me. Red moustache man gestures that it’s meant for me. It had some beautiful focaccia bread, pecorino cheese and assorted cured meats. No prosciutto though!
As I’m standing there nibbling and sipping, I look around and realize that I’m the only one with the cutting board situation. Everyone else appeared to be grabbing and going, is this some kind of new and different service that I hadn’t encountered yet? Having been to so many other countries up to this point, the one thing I‘ve learned is to not assume the way things work so I decide to just go with it and enjoy. Plus, the way to my heart truly is through my stomach.
The next thing I know, my wine glass is full to the brim again, plus more food is making its way to my board. There’s a wee dish of olives, a black truffle pecorino this time, some chili sauce with a baguette and finally - the prosciutto. It was only 2:00pm and I was starting to feel a little buzz from the wine. I rarely day drink because I swear I feel the effects more in the light of day. I decide it’s time to move on so I go to the counter to pay and buy myself the wild boar prosciutto that I had been so eager for. As I was putting my coat on and fishing around in my bag for my wallet Antonio (big red moustache) comes running over gesturing wildly. “Don’t go! I have your final course!” I told him I was stuffed but he insisted. (I’m weak.)
The final board had a small dish of liquid honey, some fresh figs and home made biscotti. I told him I was a baker and he exclaimed excitedly, “Oh, you must have a tour of my kitchen, we bake it here.” I hesitated for a minute, but there were guys coming and going from the kitchen so I wouldn’t be alone with him back there. He showed me around, had a nice chat and right when I thought he might be an OK guy he sidles up to me, takes his index finger and pokes the side of my breast and asks, “Natural?” WHAT??? This was 2011, so well before the “Me Too” movement but still 100% inappropriate. I stared him down and asked him if that was a wedding ring he was wearing? He replied that it was, so I gave him a piece of my mind about not being such a lech and to go home and be good to his poor wife. He laughed it off and then proceeded to lean down and try to kiss me. Honestly! I rushed out of that kitchen back to the shop to make my prosciutto purchase and get out of there.
In an attempt to get away from Antonio, I hurried over to the end of the counter where there was another man serving customers. Shoving the other guy away he intercepted and packaged up my purchase for me. As I was paying he leans in and whispers, “I like you, you sexy.” I looked up at him, eyebrows raised, barely containing my disdain and eye roll.
In the end I didn’t have to pay for my free lunch, but it didn’t really feel all that free by the time he had copped a feel. It seems kind of fitting that the prosciutto went moldy after a couple of weeks too, doesn’t it?
The photo below cracks me up. Somehow I got roped into posing for it with him but it couldn’t be a more perfect display of body language. And why, oh why am I grabbing that sausage???
