I've finally got the blog up and (hopefully) running.
New Year's Eve was pretty low key. We had dinner at the usual 9 o'clock and then Giorgio and I watched part of The Help until we realized we only had 2 minutes left to get ready for the clock strike.
He opened a bottle of Brachetto d'Acqua (sparkling red wine), and poured four glasses. His father woke up from the couch, downed his glass and went directly to bed with not a word to the 3 of us gathered in the kitchen. We broke out the leftover panettone and pan d'oro left over from Christmas and listened to the firecrackers exploding in the streets around us. 
After it was safe to go out, we took a stroll into the Centro Storico (Historic Center) with the acidic smell of explosives tinting the air. The pizzeria was closed already but we walked by the trattoria and Giorgio recognized some friends of his that work there enjoying a meal at the end of their shift and we walked in to offer, "Auguri" (wishes). Before we knew it we had been forced to sit and a glass of grappa and a plate of just-jiggly-enough panna cotta with a hefty drizzle of chocolate sauce thrust into our hands. A little while later as we stood to go as they finished straightening up for the night, Giuseppina insisted we all have a limoncello before we left. We couldn't call it a night without stopping by and checking out the scene at the local bar, BBeP. They had were just starting to clean up after hosting a private party for the night. We hung around to chat while they worked and they gave us a free beer--German, of course.
And then we finally called it a night at 2:45.
The next day we went for a walk near the county house enjoying the 53 degree weather. I saw some really old trulli, a horse, some sheep, short, twisted grape vines and more silvery, green olive trees.
When we got to the apartment we were suprised to see one pair of Giorgio's aunts and uncles there (although they were the favorite of the ones I met) to celebrate the day with us. Apparently we were in for a feast and I'd forgotten my camera but thankfully Giorgio let me use his-- so I could look more obnoxious than usual photographing every plate set before me.
Graziella, his aunt, started arranging our antipasto plates with a couple ribbons of prosciutto, a knot of mozzerella sliced, a golden triangle of caciocavalo (despite the name NOT made from horse milk), and a slew of shiny olives. A couple stacks of sliced Puglian bread were dispersed around the table and Vita (Giorgio's mom) opened a couple jars of artichoke hearts and wild mushrooms (that his dad had foraged for) that she had canned, drizzled some fresh, grassy, olive oil on them and set that on the table, too. And of course we washed it down with the red wine that his father, Cosimo, had made from the grapes from their trees. You can see Giorgio in the photo to the left carefully pouring the wine into a small pitcher to leave the sediment behind in the bottle.
After those plates were cleared away, a tray of bubbling beef lasagne was pulled from the oven and cut into thick, saucy rectangles. I was happy to see it was devoid of any of that grainy, flavor-thieving ricotta. To add a bit of crunch there was a bowl of sweet fennel wedges, leafy stalks of celery, a local, hollow vegetable called cime di cicorie (a mix of the crunch of fennel and the slight bite of chicory) and rosy radishes for a splash of color. (You can see the freshly washed vegetables in the photo below) We would just pluck a vegetable of our choosing out of the bowl and munch on it, almost like a palate cleanser, as we saw fit as a break from the silkiness of the lasagne. I was sorely tempted to have another slice (as I knew any leftovers were just going to be sent to the dog) but I also knew there was a meat course coming, so I wisely abstained.
Giorgio's mom has this nifty convection oven-like aparatus that she uses to quickly cook meat or vegetebles. She cooked beef for us that we ate with more salad and bread (for those who felt the need).
And then we had fruit--more gorgeous clementines.
And then nuts-- I was, of course, most interested in the 3 lone hazelnuts I found hiding under the peanuts and nestled among the dried garbanzos in the bowl.
And then this came out:
That we washed down with some Asti and limoncello. Most people had one, maybe two pieces--it's nice that they're sized for tasting--just my style. I don't think Giorgio's uncle, Franco, had even one... There were 3 left when Giorgio and I finally called uncle. And the meal was done. About 2 1/2 hours after it started. I needed a nap.
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