The local polenta.

This week was the local festa in my tiny home town, Bruntino. As the strange girl that sometimes speaks English, I played my role as the foreigner, using the opportunity to take photos as one of my neighbours stirred the Polenta (a cheeky 100litres) with a large spoon that resembled a rowers oar, in an old copper pot.
The local menu consisted of all things Bergamo, Casoncelli with butter and sage, Casoncelli with ragu, or my choice – pappardelle with hare ragu. Just to add to the list of animals I had never eaten before leaving Australia.
This all followed by a creamy bowl of polenta enjoyed with various charred goods from the grill. And of course, a local [plastic cup] of red to accompany the feast.
If you are travelling Italy and see the words sagre: please enter. Localness at its best.

Muscles. 100 litres of Polenta!
Muscles. 100 litres of Polenta!

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