And no, for once, I’m not referring to art.  Cheers to Tintoretto the drink, not the painter!

As the holiday season begins its annual appearance, why not kick it off with a Tintoretto?!

A drink typical of Asolo, in the province of Treviso, the Tintoretto is perfect to make this time of year, as it relies on the tanginess of the seasonal pomegranate. Plus,it has the color of the Christmas season!  The fact that it is also Italian and named after the Venetian painter, Tintoretto, just gives me two more reasons to love it!

The drink is made with one part pomegranate juice to 2 parts prosecco.  You can add seltzer water to lighten it further, or skip the prosecco and mix just pomegranate juice with the seltzer.  Either way, it’s a refreshing and beautiful cocktail!  I like it with a few of the arils added as well.  But I am crazy for pomegranates.  I split and eat a whole one almost every evening this time of year.

Want more Italian?  Then practice your italiano by reading this from Wikipedia!

Il Tintoretto è una variante dei cocktail Bellini, Rossini e Mimosa. Viene preparato con il succo di melograno e prosecco.

Si serve in flûte e ha un sapore fresco e rinfrescante. Il nome rende omaggio al pittore veneziano Tintoretto.

Il cocktail è composto da 1/3 di succo di melograno e 2/3 di prosecco freddo, il periodo ideale per gustarlo sono i mesi di settembre e ottobre, quando appunto maturano i frutti. Il Tintoretto è tipico delle città di Asolo, in provincia di Treviso.

I have adored the beautiful Dominican church of Santa Maria Novella, Alberti’s Renaissance masterpiece, in Florence since I was 20 years old and first saw it in a slide in my art history course in college.

I’ve written about the perfume shop known as the Officina Profumo-Farmaceutica di Santa Maria Novella in years back on this blog.  It is among my absolute favorite places to visit/shop in Florence.

 

They have potions and lotions to die for, as well as candles, soaps, and myriad other products.  It would be fun to try them all.

 

The perfumes alone are amazing.

 

The rooms themselves are gorgeous, each more beautiful than the last.

Check out the frescoes:

 

But, without question, my favorite product and the reason I always return to the pharmacy is the potpourri.

I’ve loved potpourri since I was a teenager, and used to concoct it from petals I harvested and dried from my mother’s rose bushes.  But, nothing I prepared came close to the heavenly scent of this potpourri.

 

They mix the concoction in large containers as above and sell it in beautiful packaging like this below:

It is super strong and not loved by everybody.  I think it is acquired appreciation.  I’ve acquired the appreciation.  I love the scent.  I bought more today.

 

History:

Dominican monks began concocting herbal remedies here in the 13th century, in the time of Giotto and Dante. The monks’ simple apparatus for distilling flower water rests inside wooden cabinets, flanked by old containers used for lotions and potions, lists of ingredients and even the monks’ original recipe ledgers. Merchandise lines the walls of the dimly lit, frescoed rooms—all manner of soaps, sachets and scents, many made according to ancient formulas.

The Dominicans, an order devoted to poverty and charity, first arrived in Florence in 1219, in the last years of Saint Dominic, who would die in Bologna in 1221. His followers took over a church, then called Santa Maria delle Vigne, and began the process of transforming it into a monastery. At the time, the Dominicans were engaged in fierce competition with the Franciscans for the loyalty of medieval Florentines in what would soon become one of Europe’s wealthiest and most powerful cities. Their cause was helped by a Verona-born Dominican, later known as Saint Peter the Martyr, who attracted huge crowds to his sermons at Santa Maria Novella, as Santa Maria delle Vigne had come to be known.

By 1381, the Dominicans were operating an infirmary there, with herbal remedies made by the monks themselves. Among the first distillates was rose water, a simple essence prescribed as an antiseptic to clean houses after an outbreak of plague. (It remains on the pharmacy’s shelves today, although it’s now more likely to be used for perfume or aromatherapy.)

Also among the early creations were tonics reflecting the sensibility of the times: the imaginatively named “Vinegar of the Seven Thieves,” for example, was a popular remedy for women suffering from “fainting fits.” The vinegar is still available for those in need of a quick pick-me-up. Also available to Florentine ladies was a concoction designed to calm “hysterical women.” It, too, is still on the shelves, bearing the innocuous name Santa Maria Novella Water—now recommended for its “antispasmodic properties.”

By the late 15th century, Florence was plunged into turmoil, with political attacks on the Medici dynasty spurred by the fiery preaching of the Dominican monk Savonarola—who denounced all vice and exhorted the citizens of Florence to burn their finery in a “bonfire of vanities.” The pharmacy’s nostrums, however, were mostly medicinal, and the monks quietly labored on. By the mid-16th century, relative calm had returned to the city under the rule of Cosimo de’ Medici.

By then the monastery’s pharmaceutical activities were being run as a separate business, managed by a layman and, it appears, were profitable. One entry in church records reports a large investment in vases, stoppers and pestles. The operation’s manufacture of perfumes was apparently key to winning the allegiance of its most famous customer, Catherine de’ Medici.

She had been born in Florence in 1519, and at age 14 famously became the bride of Henry, Duke of Orleans, the future king of France. She proved a legendary figure both for her political intrigues and her love of novelty: she is credited with promoting, in the French Court, innovations ranging from the sidesaddle to the handkerchief—even tobacco. The pharmacy created a new fragrance for her, a perfume that became known as acqua della regina, or “water of the queen.” In due course, Catherine’s patronage proved the making of the place.

The growth of the business was not welcomed by all; unease among some monks that the sweet smell of success might distract from the Christian pieties led to a temporary shutdown of the production of medicines in the early 1600s. But manufacture resumed in 1612, for a run of two and a half centuries. In 1866 the Italian state confiscated all church property. The move could have been the pharmacy’s death knell but for the vision of the last monk to act as its director, Damiano Beni. In a deft move, he handed over control of the enterprise to his layman nephew, who eventually bought it from the state. His descendants remain involved in the business today.

As a secular endeavor, the pharmacy could fully exploit the trends of the times. In the 1700s, it had expanded its product line from distilling medicines and perfumes to manufacturing alcohol. In the 19th century, as alcohol-laden patent medicines and tonics became all the rage in the United States, the pharmacy’s liqueur, Alkermes—advertised as a way to “revive weary and lazy spirits”—became a top seller.

Today the pharmacy still occupies its historic quarters, but it has expanded into an international concern, with stores in New York, Los Angeles and Tokyo. Eight years ago it opened a small factory two miles away, where the monks’ ancient techniques have been streamlined, but where much of the manufacturing continues to be done by hand. The factory can turn out 500 bars of soap a day in any one of 25 varieties; each bar is then aged for a month before being chiseled by hand into its final shape.

For those who fancy themselves a modern-day Catherine de’ Medici, the pharmacy produces a fragrance similar to the “water of the queen,” although it now goes by the less regal name of Eau de Cologne Classica. Some 40 colognes, in fact, are offered, catering to a huge range of tastes. The current managing director, an urbane Florentine named Eugenio Alphandery, has expanded his clientele still further with a new fragrance, Nostalgia, based on his own passion—fast cars. A whiff of the cologne evokes nothing so much as leather seats, tires on a track and a hint of gasoline fumes.

 

Who can take the simple ingredients of a few eggs and a fresh artichoke and turn it into a masterpiece?  The chef at Trattoria Sostanza, that’s who!

Il camiere ground fresh black pepper over my torta at the table and that, with a spritz of fresh lemon juice, made me want to swoon for the taste of this seasonal delight!

What do you follow a torta like this with, for dolce?  How about a bowl of fresh, wild strawberries, with a sprinkling of sugar and a dose of heavy cream.  OMG! Paradiso!

Soon enough, I suspect, I will stop sharing the names of the places I love, for Florence is way too popular for its own good.  I’m sorry.  I’m not nice.  Santa (or perhaps more likely, La Befana) will surely leave me coal this year.

But for today, I share: I love Trattoria Sostanza.  In business since 1869, they know what they are doing.

 

The menu is simple but choice.

The tall Christmas tree went up today by the Duomo, and all across the city, the lights are arriving.  It is sweet to walk the streets at dusk or at night and view the white lights, everywhere you look!

Every Thursday in the arcade of the Piazza della Republica, a flower market pops up for the day.  Today it was filled with Christmas greens and berries.

I love the contrast of the time worn, massive, permanent architectural stonework with the ephemeral, bright beauty of the ilex berries!

 

There were branches of variegated holly available, as well as all the red/pink/fushia tones of cyclamen.

 

There were magnolia branches painted gold and silver.

 

There were hellebores in bloom, as well as heather.

 

And there were lovely fresh greens wreaths, some plain, some decorated.

 

For those people who are not in the mood for Christmas, there were roses.

 

And there was a hearty woman who kept track of it all.

It was a sight to behold!

Peanut brittle, Italian style.

 

Doesn’t this dark confection look just like what you would think Italian peanut brittle would look like? It does to me!  Very earthy and dark.  It reminds me of the rich potpourri I adore from Profumeria Farmaceutica Santa Maria di Novella.  More on that later.

 

When I was young, my mother made peanut brittle every Christmas.  I never liked it because I didn’t, and still don’t, like the taste of raw peanuts.  But this brittle seems to be made with peanuts that have been cooked?  I don’t know.  I don’t love it but I know my mother would!  This one’s for you, Linda!

Can you tell?  I’ve posted about 100 posts in the past 5 days.  And, I’m just getting started!

So, here’s what’s on my mind right this minute.  Today I’ve been reading about the history of leather making here for the past, oh, I don’t know, millennium. And it turns out that this craft, which I’ve always loved in Italy, has left its mark on the city strata.  Not surprising when you think about it.  By the 1300’s, for example, there were already 1500 shoemakers working in Florence.

Still today in the Santa Croce section of the city, east of the cathedral, is the Via dei Conciatoi, or the Street of the Tanneries.  You can see it right in the center of this map, running on an angle from left to right.

Author Laura Morelli writes that “In medieval Florence, many of the tanneries were located along the Arno in order to facilitate washing away the detritus of this process, and in many other cities of medieval Europe the tanneries were required to locate outside the city walls altogether. The via dei Conciatori, in the eastern part of the city near Santa Croce, retains the memory of the Florentine tanneries and is the location of the current Scuola del Cuoio or leather school.”

Sitting right on the banks of the Arno River, the neighborhood of Santa Croce in Florence has been home to water-heavy trades, like hide tanning, since the 13th century and the tradition lives on today. In fact, 35% of national leather production still takes place in this area today!

And, in another part of town, not far from Il Duomo, is another street, Via dei Calzaiuoli, Street of the shoemakers. On this map the street runs N-S right smack dab in the middle.

Via dei Calzaiuoli

Trailing from Piazza del Duomo to Piazza della Signoria, Via dei Calzaiuoli is a popular street filled with high-end to everyday modern stores. You’ll find ultra luxury from Chanel to department store Coin, Sisley, and Furla.

Again, Ms. Morelli tells us “Although they remained of modest means, shoemakers sat atop the leather hierarchy and were considered a pillar of medieval Florentine society. By the 1300s some 1,500 shoemakers were already working in the city. About a third of these settled in the Oltrarno district. Cobblers made shoes for local consumption, but also participated in a lively export trade, forming the roots of the Tuscan international leather shoe industry that still thrives today. The statutes of the shoemakers’ guild or Arte dei Calzaiuoli (or Calzolai) specified many aspects of their working lives, from the quality and types of leather that the shoemakers must use in their production, down to their shop opening hours. Fifteenth-century documents place shoe- and belt-makers’ shops along the via dei Calzaiuoli, as well as on the streets stretching toward the church of Santo Stefano near the Ponte Vecchio. In contrast to the high-end fashion boutiques that line the via dei Calzaiuoli today, surely this street must have been lined instead with more humble workshops.”

Morelli, Laura (2015-04-01). Made in Florence: A Travel Guide to Fabrics, Frames, Jewelry, Leather Goods, Maiolica, Paper, Woodcrafts & More (Laura Morelli’s Authentic Arts) (Kindle Locations 668-669). Authentic Arts Publishing. Kindle Edition.

Next time you are in Florence, maybe you’ll stroll in your hand-made Italian footwear over these two leather-associated streets and think of the long history of this fine art in the city.