Agriturismo Serena

There are vegetarian choices, and the food is delicious. Outside, there's a big area with a football field and a playground to keep people entertained.

After 30 years of coming here with family and friends, this agriturismo has never let me down. Just last night, my husband and I had excellent frascarelli, an old-fashioned first course that brought back the flavors my mother-in-law used to make. The white pizza they serve as bread was fabulous as always, and the lamb was grilled really well. We finished with a freshly fried cream bombolone, far better than the ones at the local pastry shops. Thanks to all the staff, Anna.

The update came after my review: I was given an impassioned explanation that frascarelli is a peasant dish made only with water and flour, as local grandmothers used to prepare it. I do appreciate learning about its history. Recipes differ between families and towns, of course, but that doesn't make what I was served any less bland or lacking in comfort. It also lacked the human warmth I expect from traditional food. If it's poor people's food, charge accordingly. Asking 8 euros for it feels like selling tap water in a crystal bottle as gourmet water, or pretending the wheat came from Versailles. I had arrived hungry and hopeful, imagining the Marche hills and a pot of lovingly made ragù. Instead, dinner left me miserable. The frascarelli with traditional ragù looked like a faded, rain-soaked memory of the dish. The pasta, if it can be called pasta, had the texture and taste of wallpaper glue. It was like flour and water left to sink, with a dull red puddle on top and barely a trace of tomato. I looked up pictures of what frascarelli should be: soft and golden, with rich, fragrant ragù, tender meat, herbs, warmth and comfort. What I got was an orange mark of despair on a tasteless, floury swamp. The sauce was so thin it seemed embarrassed to be there, and a faint oregano flavor quickly gave way to raw flour. Every mouthful reminded me I'd made a mistake. By the time I gave up, the evening was ruined. My enjoyment of food was gone, my faith in Italian cuisine shattered, and even my will to live felt like it was hanging by a thread. If Dante were around, he'd add a circle of hell for whoever thought this was acceptable frascarelli. I came looking for comfort food and left in an existential crisis.

We had dinner on June 1, my wife, our two children, and me. The food was decent, and the setting was beautiful. There was plenty to keep the kids busy, including a playground, swings, and a soccer field. Overall, it was average.