Castello delle Serre

It was a castle. From the 14th century. From your first glance at the very heavy walls and cobblestone roads you can imagine crusaders leaving town to liberate the relics of Christ’s tomb in Palestine. The castle was on top of a green hill in a valley, and rows of eternal cedar trees run like sun beams to horizon.

We stayed in a hotel so as to be able to explore Florence, Sienna, and the beauty of the surroundings in general.

One of the highlights of our stay was cooking class in a medieval castle.

The owner of the castle used to delight his guests in his restaurant in the US. He said he owned a restaurant in Sun Valley.

I had no clue about such an important place (now I do). To clarify, he said if you are SOMEONE in the US or in the world you have to have property in Sun Valley.

I asked about his famous customers. He said Schwarzenegger, Stallone, Dodi Fayed’s family (the owners of Harrods department store in London) and so forth. Salvatore was very proud of his American success. At a certain point he got tired of the constant speed of life and purchased a ruined castle to restore it to make a hotel and restaurant in his home land.

Salvatore was the main teacher of our cooking class. Juicy purple eggplants were placed in the sink and covered with shiny crystals of salt to remove the bitterness. Fresh herbs were picked from the garden around the castle. The aroma from Basil, mint, and parsley created a heady atmosphere.

There were eight of us in the class. There was a family from Vienna along with four others, parents and two daughters. The parents played in the Vienna Philharmonic Orchestra and the girls played cello and violin.

It was a festival of color, Diwali in a way. Fire red tomato sauce for eggplant parmigiana. Yellow sweet cantaloupe wrapped in tender pink bacon. Chicken rolls with red cranberry and whitish creamy cheese inside. Dark red Chianti added a relaxing mood to the delicious experience.

We made some small talk with the Viennese musical family. They had come to celebrate the husband’s birthday with his family.

Salvatore served dinner on a balcony overlooking a valley with rows of cedars. The magnificent sunset made it a dinner with entertainment.

There were only two families in castle that time. I noticed two more people in the Viennese family.

He was a very knowledgeable man with curly hair in his late 50s. The woman next to him constantly corrected his behavior. “You cannot eat this. Do not drink that. This is too spicy, that is too fattening.”

I was thinking, What a strict wife he has. That man was the only one who was speaking at the table. I was amazed by the stories he was telling. He was reciting “Master and Margarita” by Bulgakov in English. That was shocking. I never met an American who knew Bulgakov before. From memory?

He was talking about Rachmaninov, Stravinsky.

I made a guess: he is from New York City. Most likely he is a conductor of the Metropolitan opera.

All of the sudden, proud Salvatore came to his table and started to speak to him. “It is such an honor that you stayed in my hotel! Would it be OK to take photo with you?”

I thought, Definitely the Metropolitan Opera. He probably lives on 57th Street.

The following morning I came to a beautifully served breakfast and that knowledgeable man was sitting alone and writing something in a notebook.

I greeted him and shared with him my guess about the Metropolitan Opera and 57th Street.

He said: “You are only 50 percent correct. I live on 57th Street. But I am a writer.”

I asked which stories of his I might know?

He said the movies Munich and Lincoln.

I realized that it was Tony Kushner, with a little help from Google on the spot!

I asked about his plans in Italy. He said he is working on a movie with Spielberg. That movie is about a Jewish boy who was raised in the Vatican at the time of the Inquisition.

I also learned that that strict woman next to him was his sister.

Whenever I walk on 57th Street I look around—we might meet in New York City some day..