Expectations can be a bugger. Ever been fairly sure when you have sussed out the lie of the land, only to find you aren't on terra firma,but sinking in the deepest of guano without a clear idea of how to take the next deep breath? Well that's how l felt as l looked at the scales in the bathroom when checking my weight after week two.
It wasn't just a matter of self control either. I usually have that to excess, which means l have a more miserable time than anyone else....'come on Alex, give yourself a break ' are the entire lyrics of my song, sung to the melody of The Sound Of Music ( no comment!).
The problem wasn't the food - always  delicious and different every evening. The table was always freshly laid out and reflected the honour we the (paying) guests were shown. Nothing was too much trouble for Vanna and Danilo.
My weight gain was due to the spectacular miscalculation in which l thought l knew how to manage my food intake here. There was no alternative. l had to face the  MASTER, and that meant his theatre, and like all theatre, timing is king.Let me explain.
In Italy senior citizens  whose lives are is based in the countryside have a tradition which  dictates  that the man of the house is master of the table.
By  8pm sharp, in our first  2 weeks , Meredith, Giuseppe and l would have spent 1/2 hour testing our wit and  struggling with the unfamiliar vocabulary of the game shows. (There is a small annex of the kitchen with a TV, around which we gathered). There we wrestled with the aromas that were turning the gastic juices of our pitifully shrunken stomachs from a barely perceptable drip into a raging torrent that sloshed forewards and back looking  for a way out. It took  just 30 minutes of this 'gastric waterboarding' to turn us into docile automatons. We had become ' anatrocolli,' (baby ducklings)willing to follow Il Padrone anywhere for he was THE bearer of  food.
Serving dishes that  moments before had been lying abandoned were now brimming with freshly cut Tuscan bread, and salads usually of 2 different sorts  waited patiently nearby whilst on the stove the second course of meat and vegetables was in its final phase of being cooked. There was always a pasta first course which by now was in a large 'ciottola'(bowl) steaming with a fragrant aroma of the ragu or the pesto or the Matriciana or simply the freshly made tomato sauce. Pasta was often home made and if we had those light as air gnocci (potato dumplings), we were over the moon..  This large steaming bowl of pasta was lifted high and carried into the dining room and the only sound heard as the chairs were being pulled in, was the sound of either the wine being poured or our gastric juices about to explode out of our fragile bodies. By this time we had become gibbering wrecks trying to give the appearance of mature nonchalance as if eating like this was our norm.
Eating late for me had become quite difficult long before this trip. I ate like a man possessed and it seemed that even after the main course l could keep eating until all the dessert had been demolished. Giuseppe and l always did our bit equally. Meredith showed restraint.
It took only a week before the effects became obvious BUT what to do? With  the second course rivalling the first, whether we had wild boar shot by Danilo, or roasted chicken or veal escallopes in lemon  sauce or Tuscan sausages grilled with a mouth watering selection of seasonal vegetables it was all a FEAST. The desserts fortunately were much simpler affairs.
Danilo loved playing the part of bountiful host and he did so to a T. The house wine flowed too and it really was a party......and l couldn't find the off button.
With a waist line about to confirm a 6 month pregnancy it was time for ?? This all had to stop but how ? because l loved it all and looked foreward every day to the excesses of the evening.
Vanna who conjured all of this up as if by magic in less than 2 hours having started from scratch, sat modestly and ate what would not have satisfied a real 'antrocollo'.
I had to wait till Meredith and Giuseppe moved out to hatch my plan.