Leave Assisi by the road to the north-west, past fields of sunflowers if it's in summer. Travel on through the one-horse towns of Tordibetto and Palazzo. After about seven kilometers turn sharply right, signposted Sterpeto, and follow a steep track through silver olive groves until you can go no further. You will have reached the gated kingdom of Santa Maria degli Ancillotti, and you will more than likely be greeted by its 'prince', Alessio Villa.
Alessio reigns over this agriturismo with his family. Father Paolo tends the roses and the chickens, and cures his own salumi. Mother Rosanna bakes bread and cakes and takes care of the fresh pasta, sauces and puddings. Wife Innis busies herself in the kitchen so much that you may never see her. The family is completed by dogs Benito, Attila and Jenny.
We spent three nights here in the early summer. On our first evening, invited to join our fellow guests for a barbecue supper, my heart sank at the prospect of an evening in the company of a bunch of complete strangers. In fact, I was wrong. In the early evening our little band of about a dozen of us, a somewhat motley collection of European stock, gathered awkwardly together on the terrace as the sun sank below Monte Subasio. A large table, big enough to seat us all, was simply laid with plates and cutlery, tumblers and candles. Alessio's family sat on the terrace too, but at a separate table.
Bottles of wine were opened and poured, and the barbecue was lit. First came panzanella. Then more wine. Then, as Alessio periodically turned the barbecue grill with theatrical flourish, came the meat – fat sausages packed with herbs and fennel, meaty pork ribs, and finally steaks, cut thin and lean, all accompanied by a conveyor-belt supply of red wine. As darkness fell and the wine took effect, our little party became closer, a happy band together in this outpost in the Umbrian hills. At some point during the proceedings, for reasons which I still can't remember, I arranged with the elderly German guest sitting beside me that we would go swimming at 7.30 next morning. More wine. And there may have been grappa. We ate, drank and talked late into the chilly night.
Next morning broke bright and clear, save for a drift of white mist hanging over the Assisi plain. The dew still clung to the roses and the dogs stretched themselves in readiness for the lazy day ahead when, at precisely 7.30am, the elderly German lady, in swimming hat and towel, padded across the grass to the pool... and was surprised to find that I was already in the water. Well, I couldn't let the British side down, could I?
For the rest of our stay Alessio insisted on plying us with food. Roasted duck one night (his "mother's favourite dish"), roast rabbit the next (his "wife's favourite dish") were delicious and plentiful. But it was Alessio's breakfasts that were the real stars of his food show. Beneath the canopy of the loggia, the morning breeze wafting the fresh flowers on each table, we were offered freshly squeezed juices that were alive with flavour; the brightest, yellowest of eggs from the farm's own hens, scrambled into deliciously soft mounds, or set with mushrooms and herbs into a soft-centred omelette; home-made yogurt whipped to the lightest, airiest of textures. And coffee, deliciously chewy bread and home-made jams and honey.
Alessio was very good at keeping us within the borders of his kingdom, but charming with it.
Santa Maria degli Ancillotti, loc. Sterpeto, 42 06086 - Assisi (Perugia)
Tel 075 8039764
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