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It was our last morning in Montalcino today. After packing up from the Bed and Breakfast, we walked up the stone street to the Lomdardi Bakery. !t was about 9am and apparently that is rush hour in this hilltop town. I think about 12-18 cars passed us while walking and waiting. Doesn’t sound like much, but when you’re walking on a street that’s only ten feet wide and the car driving through it is seven-ish feet wide . . .and there’s 30 of you walking it gets a little snug. Now I understand why those work trucks so tiny.
From the street you can see through the small glass doors into the first room containing a triple level deck over, electric and replacing the wood ovens that used to turn Tuscan dough into bread. Waiting for us are two soft and crinkled faces speaking feisty as they float across the room in flowing pastel dresses and white apron. Glowing cheeks and gloved hands beckon us to “Eat, eat!” After a buffet of pizza bread- focaccia with tomato sauce, meringue cookies, almond cookies, and sugar cookies with jam we get down to business.
The owner is 75 years old and “retired.” She has been working at Lombardi since the day she married into the fam
ily over fifty years ago. Today, like every day, except Sundays of course, she arrived at work with her daughter and two other women at 2:00am to start the day, so by now the kitchen is in full swing.
Sitting in a giant mixer is biscotti batter, today the batch (about two five-gallon pails full) is “small” since the baker’s son has gone to Sienna to deliver baked goods. While, coming out the oven are loaves of Tuscan bread. Tuscan bread is made with little to no salt according to tradition. Historically the salt was left out to boycott the government and not pay the tax on the salt.
As we moved through the bakery, our translator, Elizabeth, explained the reason for the so many small rooms with thick walls is that they way buildings were bought and constructed, a business would have to buy the rooms from their neighbors.
As we migrated outside for last goodbyes we found ourselves again cluttering the street. I think were all we sad to leave, not only the warm and deliciously scented bakery and step into the drafty alley, but to have to leave this woman we had all fallen in love with. . . “CAR!” ahh looks like I have to go too.
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