It don’t mean a thing, if it ain’t got that Swing.
We’re really quite settled into the Lecce life. Late to rise, relaxed about leaving, if the car parking ticket is running out, “Meh! We’ll get there ...” (with appropriate hands up in the air gestures)
We decided to drive around Lecce today - not IN the city, but AROUND the city. To see those little towns just outside the city. We steered out toward the costa Adriatico, in the direction of San Cataldo, but turned left in the direction of Brindisi to get up along the coast to the north east of Lecce. Pip was picking random destinations on the Google machine, roughly in the same direction. There are a number of tiny coastal towns with low, cast-concrete houses and rubbish-filled lanes that lead to the beach. Again, these places rage from April to October and judging by the size of the camping villages that line the roads, traffic must be a huge issue. No huge issue in winter. We went down to the beach a couple of times and while it’s a spectacular seaview, there is so much crap on the beaches - bits of net, buoys , ropes, rubbish, rotting boats - it’s a little disheartening. Each promontory also features the ruin of a Norman watchtower, called a Torre and many of the beaches are named after them. The places we passed through were all very quiet - thoughts of coffee were all but dashed. We drove through to Casalabate, a somewhat larger town but still completely still. Casalabate, though, touts itself as CAO: Casalabate Art District and many of the buildings are be-muraled. We then turned inland toward Squinzano, about 15 minutes away. Our (coffee) theory being that if we went inland, where the towns are not just beach spots, there was a higher chance of of finding a functioning business district.
Our theories were proved correct and can now be made available for peer review. Squinzano was open for business and we quickly found a beautifully appointed pasticceria to take coffee and custard-filled treats at. Squinzano is wine-central and produces a DOC rosé and a red, largely from my new favourite NegroAmaro grapes. From Squinzano, Pip pointed us across the ol’ Salentine peninsula, through Campi Salentina (now known to us as Obama-lama-ding-dong ref ....) and Guagnano and across to Porto Cesareo, via a few of the winterised Ionian seaside spots. Porto Cesareo is a much more developed spot - think Broadbeach instead of Pottsville - and so is much more open. We needed open after our chug across the heel and despite seeking a simple sandwich, as so many of our simple sandwiches end up, we found the only place open in town was a ristorante. It’s never hard to dissuade us from ‘sandwich’, and so we found ourselves in a seafood restaurant called, La Piovra da Anna Marie (Anna Marie’s Octopus?), with table cloths and everything. Our food was delicious.
We shared an entree of mussels au gratin - for Pip, a seafood gnochettini with, vongole, rucula and whole prawns, and for me, steering away from seafood, a scrumptious cotoletta with a mixed salad. This is a lovely spot. There were Italian folk around us eating huge amounts - the four people next to us ate about a truckload of mussels, a bucketload of seafood crudo, then huge plates of risotto and pasta and were still going when we left (they were there when we arrived). It seems amazing to us the amount these Italians tend to put away.
Thursday was a quiet day, with the quiet broken by a sashay around the town in the evening. Pip constructed a delicious and restrained pasta for lunch, so our stroll was largely about stretching our limbs and seeking dinner. We strolled right around to the other side of the Centro Storico, an area we’ve not spent a lot of time in and swung back around to the centre. A tiny piazza with several bars flung itself into our path and we was lured into a gorgeous tiny bar called Saloonkeeper 1933. It was dark and filled with 30’s furniture and bits and bobs and we found ourselves a chesterfield couch under the bar and began to read the tome that was plonked on the coffee table in front of us - the drink menu. It was a great spot, despite the 30’s trad jazz (a genre I truly find difficult) which thankfully slipped into some Delta Blues, and we slowly sipped our wine and whisky before heading off to our favourite cafe, Bar Moro for dinner. More delights - we shared some polpette, battered bacala pieces, fantastic grilled vegetables and a wonderful eggplant lasagne. It’s truly a great spot.