Four years on from the launch of his holiday cottages in Maremma, Graham Bradford shares the magic of the southern Tuscan landscape, food and fauna as he reflects on his coming of age in the hospitality business.

‘You’re out in the sticks ... How far is it to San Gimignano? But we wanted a place near San Gimignano ...’

Guests’ reactions upon arrival at Podere Sant’Angelo can vary but are invariably conditioned by early rises for low cost flights or long drives from northern European countries. Experience has taught me to be patient and wait for the peace and tranquility of the Tuscan countryside, not to mention the good food and wine, to start their soothing therapies.

Newly weds from Glasgow, exasperated teachers from London, fathers to be from Boston, frazzled parents from Rugby, all have arrived in various states of fatigue, ready for the magic to work.

Very occasionally, the magic can’t work quickly enough. Minutes after being shown to their accommodation, a New Zealand couple came up to my kitchen. They were rather put out at the low quality of the wine glasses provided (admittedly rather robust objects, as the terracotta floors are very unforgiving), especially as they planned on tasting as many as possible of the local wines. Good wine glasses were duly supplied and my wait to try one of their wines with them began—I was hoping to sample one of the Brunello vintages from nearby Montalcino (which cost €65 and upwards). I didn’t have to wait too long for the invite and eagerly appeared with my fragile wine glass. My surprised look as they opened a carton of cheap red wine brought forth the explanation that anything over three euros was a waste of money—an affirmation to dismay the local producers (particularly those of Montalcino).

If nothing else works, though, the hot springs at Saturnia are a great source of relaxation. Some guests opt for the exclusive five star hotel but most join in with the dressing gown-clad Italians who mill around the freely accessible waterfall of hot, sulphurous water. One guest told me of a friendship he struck up with a local under the stars, a friendship helped along by a bottle of local Morellino di Scansano that plopped down into their pool.

The local fauna can turn the drive home in the evening into a Tuscan version of an African safari, with wild boar, porcupines, roe deer and hares putting on regular appearances. One morning, a couple of students from Norway reported the presence of what looked like mouse droppings in their bedroom. We were mystified—why would a mouse take refuge in the middle of summer?—and I started thinking about the time required to source humane mousetraps. Before the mousetrap was put into action, though, the culprit had been found—a bat that had taken to hanging from the beams in the girls’ bedroom. They were OK about the bat but mosquito netting was quickly put into place to prevent further nocturnal visits.

I don’t like reinforcing national stereotypes but the comments in the cottages’ guestbooks do hint at a rational Anglo-Saxon approach to life that contrasts with a more emotional, Italian way of seeing things. Chris and Anita from Basingstoke listed their ‘Top Things To Do’ in the area:

• 1. Sistine Chapel, Rome

• 2. Towns perched on hilltops and scenery

• 3. Hot springs at Saturnia

Sandra and Alessandro from Milan wrote:
"We were here for one night, only one night, but a long, intense night full of love and simplicity, in this wonderful place … "

But the most memorable comment I came across was left in a local restaurant’s guestbook. Francesca left her successful restaurant in Rome some years ago to work in Maremma. A lot of the vegetables Francesca served were found during her roamings in the fields around nearby Semproniano. One lunchtime, my mother started her meal with the ‘vegetables of the meadows’ soufflé. During the meal, as her mood became increasingly exuberant, I became very curious about those vegetables.
Francesca supplied me with a weighty tome full of edible plants that I’d been pulling out of the ground to make compost. At the end of the meal there were kisses all round, and Francesca reassured me that her food often had this effect on people.
Out came the guestbook where I found the comment by Paolo from Rome: ‘Eating here is like making love for the first time.’

This year, as the summer drew on, the glow of fireflies was replaced occasionally by the glow of computer screens. Daniele, an online currency trader, and his partner Michela, a Dr Who fan, traded and watched the Tardis, while next door, Dominique and Francois, French teenagers on holiday with their parents, chatted with their friends back in Clermont Ferrand late into the night. Much maligned Telecom Italia brought broadband net access to this part of Maremma last year thanks to their ‘anti digital divide’ project.

Technologically advanced it may be, but this remains deep countryside. I was alarmed when two of my guests, Frank and Monika from Berlin, told me they had heard someone during the night in the empty cottage next door. They had heard a lot of noise on the roof. A couple of nights later I was woken at four thirty by the sound of someone walking on the roof, as one tile after another was lifted in a frighteningly methodical manner, obviously by a practised hand. Full of trepidation, I grabbed my torch and went out to challenge the roof wrecker (I spent a lot of money last year sorting out leaks and poor insulation). There was no sign of anyone on the roof. I got a fright as I walked back into the kitchen when I came face-to-face with the roof walker—two shiny eyes and four short legs, a weasel.
Friends explained that it’s quite common for weasels to lift tiles looking for nests. I’m relieved to say that it hasn’t returned and no damage was incurred to the expensively repaired roof.

The price of ewe’s milk has dropped recently but there are still plenty of sheep around supplying the pecorino cheese factory in nearby Roccalbegna. A couple of years ago my neighbours invited me round for lunch. They had three antipodean sheep shearers visiting them. The Falkland Islander, New Zealander and Australian had started out in Sicily and were gradually moving northwards up the peninsula as the summer progressed. In return for a magnificent lunch, I translated lots of things I never knew about sheep shearing and sheep farming in general. I learned about the difficulties these days of finding good Italian shearers, and my neighbours were very impressed with the speed, dexterity and gentleness of the guys from the southern hemisphere.

So no, I haven't regretted my decision of four years ago. Two new aspects of my life I now enjoy are meeting people from different countries and diverse backgrounds with many amusing and interesting stories to tell, and sharing with them, by the time they leave, an appreciation of this beautiful part of Italy.

Visit http://www.poderesantangelo.com for more information about Graham Bradford’s holiday cottages in Maremma.
All names have been changed.