The book someone should write:  hidden Tuscany.  I won’t.  I don’t have the patience for details about hotels and restaurants and mileage from here to there.  But Tuscany is pieno, full, of places of secret loveliness, interest, good food, and  stunning landscape.  People often say to me, “Tuscany is full of tourists.”  Or, “We’ve been to Tuscany three times.”  Tuscany is large and varied and if you had two lives you couldn’t begin to know it.

For example, the quick two-day trip Ed and I just took. Our friend Steven Rothfeld, the photographer, was with us when we took off for Marina di Bibona to eat at La Pineta. We headed toward Volterra, an austere and handsome little city with Etruscan roots, then through idyllic countryside—no traffic–to the coast.

Fish!  Fish!  We went  in search of inspiration for cooking fish.  (Did I say that Ed and I are working on a cookbook?) .  At fish-mecca La Pineta, there’s a Michelin star–which in Italy often is awarded to something the French like because it seems French.  La Pineta, instead, looks like a seafood shack on any beach.  Twin waiters greeted us in the surprising formal dining room–right on the beach–and proceeded to stun us with course after course of the freshest seafood I can remember. The owner, Luciano Zazzeri, who was once a fisherman himself, came over to the table twice to make sure we were happy, and we were. Although it was lunch time, we quaffed the complimentary prosecco, a bottle of wine, and then the extra glass they offered.  As we talked to Luciano about how amazed we were at the sweet, sweet shellfish and the delicate pastas, and the fritto misto, he told us about his cousins and friends in nearby Cecina, who dock on the river when they come in from the sea with the catch of the day. At La Pineta, here’s what I ordered:

After this sybaritic lunch, we checked into a modern, charmless hotel, which did have a pine forest on the sea.  It seemed to be headquarters for German and Swiss bicyclists.  They looked happy and rosy from their rides along the deserted roads where there are many umbrella pine and cypress lanes.  In the afternoon, we loved wandering around Bolgheri and Castagneto Carducci.  This area, with lots of sun and sea breezes, is ideal for wine.  (Look for wines from this area–you can’t go wrong!)  The poet Carducci wrote a poem about the staggeringly long cypress lane leading to Bolgheri.  The trees were planted in 1801 and they look like gods–overpowering and majestic. You might be entering heaven, if hosts of angels greeted you at the end of the 5 KM. long avenue.  Instead, there’s a low-key stone town, with a seated statue of Carducci’s grandmother.  I sat down beside her and imagined that we had a chat.  The countryside invites you to take small roads leading only to other small roads, with only the green countryside, chestnut copses, and hidden villas to entertain you.

Luciano recommended Zanzibar in San Vincenzo’s port for dinner.  Again, we feasted on the freshest of fresh fish.  We were seated in an airy alcove overlooking the boats in the harbor.  Two men, both alone, were the other diners.  In true Italian style they began to talk from adjacent tables and–perfect strangers–enjoyed an evening together, each intermittently talking on their phones and explaining that they’d met and apparently had much in common.

Early the next morning we were in Cecina among the dozen or so friendly men who’d just pulled in with their nets and were putting out on styrofoam trays small silvery fish, sea urchins, shrimp of many dimensions, something dire that looked like a cross between a snake and an eel–everything you need for a batch of fried fish, a stew, or a simply grilled fillet.

We drove on to Castiglione della Pescaia, walked around the medieval upper town and stopped for a fine lunch on the piazza at Pierbacco.  I had big shrimp on a little lake of pureed chickpeas.  We all tasted Steven’s grilled eggplant with caper sauce and slivers of parmigiano. Then we meandered down the street and tasted honey gelato with pine nuts.

So much one can see in such a short time.  We drove back to Cortona via Monte Amiato, Tuscany’s highest point.  From our mountain house, we can see this mystical extinct–let’s hope–volcano on the horizon.  The slopes are dotted with tiny medieval villages and the views as you ascend are heart-stirring.  We all longed to find a cozy inn and take long hikes with a big hunk of cheese and some rustic bread.  Chestnut beer is a specialty here, as are all chestnut dishes.  We’ll come back in the fall for the blue light at evening and the layers of hills.

Tuscany crowded?  Off track of the grand sites, Tuscany remains idyllic and alluring. Many readers here know Tuscany well.  Any favorite spots to suggest?

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