By DOM JOLY

Great gastronomy: Dom Joly and his wife Stacey enjoy a foodie break in Tuscany


Like most middle-class Brits of a certain type, I used to go to Tuscany a lot as a kid. My parents were obsessed with the area and had several friends who lived there full-time. I particularly remember one evening at a small country hotel called Pin Rose.

It must have been in the summer of '76 as the Montreal Olympics were constantly on the ancient hotel television that sat precariously on a chair in the lobby. The hotel was being lashed by a violent summer storm.

The rain hammered on the tiled roof as lightning danced in the clouds above. There was a pervading smell of damp pine and the rumble of incessant thunder. To the consternation of my parents, who were worried about lightning strikes, my sister and I ran outside and danced about until we were soaked to the skin.

As we rain-danced, two hunters on horseback, shotguns slung over their backs, galloped, in what seemed like slow motion, up the long drive to deliver some freshly killed game to the hotel kitchen.

That night, sheltered from the storm, we ate a 12-course meal in candlelight. I can still taste it to this day. Tuscany is a bit like The Beatles - it's so good that you sometimes take it for granted. I hadn't been back since I'd InterRailed through at 18 - it was time for a return visit.

My wife Stacey and I landed at Pisa airport and headed off into the sunny Tuscan hills. Our destination was Castello Monastero, an old monastery that has been oh-so-tastefully converted into a five-star hotel and spa. It was the first time we'd got away without the kids for a while, and we both really needed the break.

Stacey was particularly excited as she loves spas and this supposedly boasted an impressive one. I was a little more reticent - spas rather freak me out. I'm not really into the whole whale music/serene whispering/yoga stuff. If anything it tends to leave me more un-relaxed.

I was certainly into the hotel, however - a huge, imposing place perched on a hill overlooking gorgeous Tuscan countryside. We were shown up to an enormous bedroom.

To ease the terribly arduous unpacking process, the friendly barman/ bellboy asked us what we would like to drink. I told him to surprise us. he did, and I discovered my new favourite thing in life: a rossini - freshly squeezed strawberry juice and chilled Prosecco. I now demand it wherever I go (which gets tricky at parent-teacher evenings).


Medieval magic: The pair enjoyed a blissful break at the Castel Monastero


It's particularly satisfying because most barmen don't know what it is and you have to tell them, much to their annoyance. If I ever make enough money I shall have a man shadow me with a chilled rossini constantly to hand. It's that good ...

Stiff from the drive, Stacey and I decided to go for a walk. We exited the main gates and followed a track that led up into the surrounding hills. It was blissful, the walk was bordered by vineyards and we watched deer gambol between the vines as the sun beat down on ever-changing Tuscan landscapes.

After half-an-hour or so of walking, we came across a curious sight. In a copse we spied something resembling a makeshift treehouse. Accessed by a ladder, it gave a clear view down a long open stretch running between two clumps of olive trees. It was a hunter's eyrie. What gave it a bit of Tuscan class was the presence of two high-backed leather chairs that wouldn't have been out of place in a palazzo.

Clearly, whoever hunted from here was used to doing things in style. It was a far cry from the horse-backed hunters of my Tuscan youth.

We got back to the monastery just in time for dinner. The main restaurant, Contrada, boasted Gordon Ramsay as a consultant. I love the idea of a consultant chef, especially when it's Ramsay. I like to imagine that once a month he rings the monastery and swears at everybody down the phone for a good half-hour before dispatching an extortionate bill. however, it works - the food was quite breathtaking.


Great gallop: The dramatic Palio horse race in Siena is beautiful but brutal


I had just come off a year being a vegetarian, and what a place to relapse. I celebrated with a Tuscan steak that, if I'm being wholly accurate, was less a steak and more a whole side of cow. It was the single best piece of meat I have ever had in my life. It was one of those dining moments that, like the Pin Rose's 12-course meal, will stay with me until my dying day.

Supper over, that particular day didn't feel too far off as I waddled back to my room and sank into a bath that rather fittingly had a view to die for.

We awoke the next morning, refreshed and eager for a little adventure. Siena, surely one of the most beautiful cities in Europe, was just a 20-minute drive away. We pootled in for some lunch and a little wander around town.

Despite the hordes of tourists (like my mother, I'm not a tourist but a traveller), we managed to enjoy the city. We licked gelatos, snaffled ultra-thin slices of pizza and downed lethal amounts of coffee as we camped on the Piazza del Campo watching the theatre of Italian foot traffic pass us by.

I'd been here before, when I was InterRailing, and on that occasion arrived in town on the day of the Palio - the most thrilling horse race in the world. I remembered being squeezed into the excitable crowd in the centre of the square and feeling as if I'd been thrown back in time to some medieval festival.

In a sense, I had been. The city is split into different areas (known as contradas) and loyalty to your contrada is fierce and final. Each contrada has its own horse in the race and they are treated like kings.

These equine athletes are guests of honour at huge street parties and are taken into churches to be blessed the night before the race.


Mighty meat: There is no better way to fall off the veggie wagon than with a Florentine steak


The Palio is tough and often brutal. It's not to everybody's taste, but for sheer visceral excitement it's hard to beat. On the day of my second, more recent visit, the square was still packed, but with awestruck tourists from all over the world rather than locals.

Caffeined up, we randomly wandered the ancient cobbled streets getting lost and seeing where we'd end up. every corner we rounded revealed either a tempting trattoria or a shop groaning with heavenly looking food.

Food is what Tuscany is all about. You find yourself constantly asking 'Why doesn't this taste like this at home?' every time you munch on a tomato or sample a bowl of the simplest pasta. This is ironic as the main 'draw' of Castello Monastero is the celebrated Dr Mosaraf Ali.

Dr Ali - whose name is mentioned in hushed terms in plush London circles, as though referring to some sort of deity - is a specialist in integrated medicine.

He is keen on detoxification with the help of 'herbs from the Himalayas', massages and especially the controlled fasting courses he oversees at the spa.

His clients apparently include Sir Richard Branson, Michael Douglas and Prince Charles. When you go to see him there is a large signed photograph of Sylvester Stallone leaning on the wall behind him. Sly has written that the doctor 'changed my life'.

Loath as I am to disagree with Rocky, I do find the idea of going to Tuscany to starve yourself slightly peculiar. Why not go somewhere where the local food is not quite so delectable? Poland comes to mind.


Dr to the stars: Mosaraf Ali consults with a patient taking part in his fasting course


The hotel was just opening when we stayed and neither Stacey nor I opted for the fasting option - we're too greedy. It would, however, have been perfectly possible for one of us to fast while the other gorged like a glutton.

I did wonder whether the management had considered the potential conflict that might be caused by diners like me, munching on half a cow while starving people sipped cups of warm water on the other side of the room. The fact that it could be married couples involved makes the recipe even more volatile.

I mentioned this to the fabulous maitre d' (the regular provider of my rossinis) and he laughed as he mentioned that there was talk of building some sort of dividing wall.

If fasting is your thing, you couldn't do it in more beautiful surroundings. If we happen to be there together, I shall try to keep my orgasmic restaurant moanings to a minimum. Promise.


Travel Facts
Citalia (0844 415 1956, www.citalia.com) offers three nights' B&B at the Castello Monastero from £649 including return flights from Gatwick. Seven-night stays start at £1,215.

source: dailymail