hat, my friends, is what they call grouping. In the words of Megs, “I’m not one to toot my own horn…but toot toot!” Our family’s entire weekend in sunny Asheville was On Point, from the moment we shipped out to the reluctant drive home.
Friday night we began our journey powering through the piedmont, the caravan stocked with edibles from the North like quality Salumi and Semolina Bread. Tommy rang loud as we sang along in jubilee, playing the steering wheel and dashboard as tho it were a 13 piece drum set. From Sam Cook, Johnny Winter, Cream and Howlin’ Wolf to Hendrix, Joe Cocker, Joni Mitchell and Blind Faith the mountain miles gave way until we finally arrived at my brothers.
It was a road trip I will never forget, but only the beginning of a unforgettable weekend. The next few days went something like this: Morning Manmosas, Dog Chasing, Turkeys flying over trees, Neeses Sausage, Hippy-Children Fairs, Statue Molesting, Shootin’ Shit, Midnight Dinners, Bocce Ball, Blues Jams, Beatles Sing-Alongs, TRX Workouts, Afternoon Growlers, Tipsy Frisbee, Bulk Braciole, Scientific Dialogues, Dog Chasing Bull, Bull Chasing Dog, Orange Moonlit Strolls, Sunset Antipasti, Sports Trivia, and Record Amounts of Espresso.
I guess we did a few things, and below are some of the most memorable shots:
Saturday Morning and 45 acres to re-explore, game on!
Exploring with ManMosas doesn’t hurt at all, either.
Some kind of crazy Hippy, Children, Fundraising, YMCA, Beer-Infused festival downtown topped off by a performance by these two: Reggae-Rap Children Song Musicians…flippin’ Asheville.
Anthony’s Ruger 22 with a righteous scope. First time shooting a real rifle? No problem says I. Count it!
The present Tuorto Ragazze spending some down-time in the pasture. I don’t think we’re in Long Island anymore, toto.
Late Night dinner including pan-fried chiles, broiled sole, lemon marinated broccoli, and Ant’s roasted potatoes. Worth the wait, but I struck out on the fish. Next time.
Reef, my little bro’s dog, taking a well deserved snooze in the sun after running across both pastures and gnawing on a 5lb beef bone for a few hours.
Mountain Bocce, dodging mole runs and relentless hills, coupled with afternoon growlers full of Pisgah ESB and IPA. Youngsters took the trophy, back to practice old timers.
Pan-Fried, Sausage and Pancetta stuffed Braciole waiting to be braise in sauce for a couple hours: A Napolitano Staple.
Sunset antipasti including salumi, pecorino, reggiano, pears, semolina bread, and plenty of Sangiovese.
The ride back felt twice as long as the previous trip up, but my Unlce Anthony and I made it thru thanks to the musical stylings of The Doors, Paul Simon, Lesley West, Neil Young, Zepplin, and a little more Jimi. As we retreat back to work and our daily lives I can’t help but revel in the bond both generations of Tuorto’s share: through music, through food, through history, and through blood.