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The two-decade battle to fell Italy's most hated crane

The two-decade battle to fell Italy's most hated crane

Times11 hours ago

Roberto Amadori dismantled a large crane in Florence this week and was suddenly the most popular man in the city.
'There was a crowd cheering when I finished,' he said. 'An elderly women rushed up to thank me, saying, 'Florence shines once again'.'
Amadori, who carries out such projects for a living, had pulled down not just any crane, but the most notorious and hated one in Italy.
Known locally as the 'Metal Monster' it had stood obstinately for 19 years in the narrow piazza between the two wings of the Uffizi Gallery, home to fabulous Botticellis, Caravaggios, Raphaels and Titians: a giant yellow eyesore looming over one of the biggest concentrations of beauty anywhere in the world.
Standing 60 metres high, it was a scar on a celebrated skyline which boasts Brunelleschi's magnificent cathedral dome, Giotto's bell tower and the 14th-century Palazzo Vecchio.
'This was a historic moment for our city — watching the dismantling of the crane after all these years was extremely emotional,' said the mayor Sara Funaro when the crane came down. The Italian culture minister travelled from Rome to celebrate the event.
Loathing of the crane grew as its survival, year after year, summed up a very Italian culture of political squabbling, lethargic bureaucracy and the shunting of tough decisions between stakeholders.
'For 19 years no one knew how to get rid of the crane and no one really knows why it stayed there so long,' said a local official who declined to be named. First erected in 2006, the 33-tonne crane was put to use as builders started converting the first floor of the gallery, which was still used to store archives, into a exhibition space to add to the existing gallery area on the second floor.
The metal structure was set up near the front door of the 16th-century building, opposite a statue of Giotto, the 14th-century painter and architect, who appeared to glower at it furiously. Planners said the crane would be needed for five years, but a decade later, with the conversion still continuing, Florentines began to question if the crane was really needed.
By 2018 Marco Stella, a councillor, was raging about the 'unacceptable' presence of the crane. People lit 12 candles at its base and wished it happy birthday in an ironic protest.
The crane, gru in Italian, was given its own Instagram page, 'Gru in Florence' which posted stunning photos of the city ruined by the crane sticking into them. The anonymous author of the cult page took on the persona of the crane, writing, 'Disclosure: I am 13 years old but in Gru-years that's 26,' and, 'If getting photoshopped out of pictures was a sport, I'd be [the record-breaking swimmer] Michael Phelps.'
Behind the jokes, anger was growing. 'People were asking, 'Is there an alternative to the crane?' But there were restrictions and despite mayors and local culture chiefs trying to get rid of it, they all failed,' the official said.
Almost inevitably, the crane became handy ammunition in local political battles. When Eike Schmidt, then director of the Uffizi, announced last year that he would stand for mayor — an election he lost — he took aim at the incumbent Dario Nardella. He claimed Nardella was only then waking up to the crane 'outside his office'.
Nardella hit back that as head of the Uffizi it was Schmidt's job to get rid of it, and said: 'He claims he is a great manager but he has not been able to take down a crane. How can he govern a city?'
The truth is the refurbishment, and the crane, were run by the local culture authority, part of Rome's ministry of culture, adding another layer of bureaucracy.
Typically the regional culture authority, known as a soprintendenza, is often short-staffed, underfunded and wrapped in red tape. But in 2023 the ministry handed control of the crane to the Uffizi and the following year a new director, Simone Verde, planned a final assault on the monster. Rather than waiting for funds, he raised €175,000 from a coalition of rich benefactors to replace the crane with a less intrusive elevator to raise building materials to the first floor.
Valerio Tesi, who is managing the refurbishment, says the elevator is needed because the job will not be finished for a few years.
One reason it is taking so long is that the first floor has already been put to use as an exhibition space and work to finish it needs to fit in around millions of visitors, he said. 'We also dug down 80cm at the bottom of a lift shaft during the refurbishment and found at least ten buried corpses from the Middle Ages,' he added.
Finally, on Monday, Roberto Amadori arrived in his lorry which has a telescopic crane and gently brought down pieces of the larger crane as workers unbolted them, taking care not to drop them through the roof of the gallery. 'Mostly I install air conditioning units on hotels, so as a Florentine, this job was a privilege and an honour since people in this city couldn't bear the sight of the crane anymore,' he said.
Verde reported that residents of the city had been stopping him in the street to thank him. 'Before it came down, one man in his eighties stopped me and said, 'Please let me see the Piazzale degli Uffizi again without the crane before I die'.'
Verde said the crane had been such an irritant for Florentines because they were so attached to their collection of art, churches and palazzos — even more so than Romans. 'The link between heritage and identity here is unique in the world,' he said.
The day after the crane vanished, Lucia Manneschi, a Florentine security guard, was patrolling the piazzale where the crane had stood and stopped to blink up at the blue sky. 'I'm 55 now, so I was 36 when they put that thing up,' she said. 'I'm so happy — I can't believe it's finally gone.'

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The two-decade battle to fell Italy's most hated crane
The two-decade battle to fell Italy's most hated crane

Times

time11 hours ago

  • Times

The two-decade battle to fell Italy's most hated crane

Roberto Amadori dismantled a large crane in Florence this week and was suddenly the most popular man in the city. 'There was a crowd cheering when I finished,' he said. 'An elderly women rushed up to thank me, saying, 'Florence shines once again'.' Amadori, who carries out such projects for a living, had pulled down not just any crane, but the most notorious and hated one in Italy. Known locally as the 'Metal Monster' it had stood obstinately for 19 years in the narrow piazza between the two wings of the Uffizi Gallery, home to fabulous Botticellis, Caravaggios, Raphaels and Titians: a giant yellow eyesore looming over one of the biggest concentrations of beauty anywhere in the world. Standing 60 metres high, it was a scar on a celebrated skyline which boasts Brunelleschi's magnificent cathedral dome, Giotto's bell tower and the 14th-century Palazzo Vecchio. 'This was a historic moment for our city — watching the dismantling of the crane after all these years was extremely emotional,' said the mayor Sara Funaro when the crane came down. The Italian culture minister travelled from Rome to celebrate the event. Loathing of the crane grew as its survival, year after year, summed up a very Italian culture of political squabbling, lethargic bureaucracy and the shunting of tough decisions between stakeholders. 'For 19 years no one knew how to get rid of the crane and no one really knows why it stayed there so long,' said a local official who declined to be named. First erected in 2006, the 33-tonne crane was put to use as builders started converting the first floor of the gallery, which was still used to store archives, into a exhibition space to add to the existing gallery area on the second floor. The metal structure was set up near the front door of the 16th-century building, opposite a statue of Giotto, the 14th-century painter and architect, who appeared to glower at it furiously. Planners said the crane would be needed for five years, but a decade later, with the conversion still continuing, Florentines began to question if the crane was really needed. By 2018 Marco Stella, a councillor, was raging about the 'unacceptable' presence of the crane. People lit 12 candles at its base and wished it happy birthday in an ironic protest. The crane, gru in Italian, was given its own Instagram page, 'Gru in Florence' which posted stunning photos of the city ruined by the crane sticking into them. The anonymous author of the cult page took on the persona of the crane, writing, 'Disclosure: I am 13 years old but in Gru-years that's 26,' and, 'If getting photoshopped out of pictures was a sport, I'd be [the record-breaking swimmer] Michael Phelps.' Behind the jokes, anger was growing. 'People were asking, 'Is there an alternative to the crane?' But there were restrictions and despite mayors and local culture chiefs trying to get rid of it, they all failed,' the official said. Almost inevitably, the crane became handy ammunition in local political battles. When Eike Schmidt, then director of the Uffizi, announced last year that he would stand for mayor — an election he lost — he took aim at the incumbent Dario Nardella. He claimed Nardella was only then waking up to the crane 'outside his office'. Nardella hit back that as head of the Uffizi it was Schmidt's job to get rid of it, and said: 'He claims he is a great manager but he has not been able to take down a crane. How can he govern a city?' The truth is the refurbishment, and the crane, were run by the local culture authority, part of Rome's ministry of culture, adding another layer of bureaucracy. Typically the regional culture authority, known as a soprintendenza, is often short-staffed, underfunded and wrapped in red tape. But in 2023 the ministry handed control of the crane to the Uffizi and the following year a new director, Simone Verde, planned a final assault on the monster. Rather than waiting for funds, he raised €175,000 from a coalition of rich benefactors to replace the crane with a less intrusive elevator to raise building materials to the first floor. Valerio Tesi, who is managing the refurbishment, says the elevator is needed because the job will not be finished for a few years. One reason it is taking so long is that the first floor has already been put to use as an exhibition space and work to finish it needs to fit in around millions of visitors, he said. 'We also dug down 80cm at the bottom of a lift shaft during the refurbishment and found at least ten buried corpses from the Middle Ages,' he added. Finally, on Monday, Roberto Amadori arrived in his lorry which has a telescopic crane and gently brought down pieces of the larger crane as workers unbolted them, taking care not to drop them through the roof of the gallery. 'Mostly I install air conditioning units on hotels, so as a Florentine, this job was a privilege and an honour since people in this city couldn't bear the sight of the crane anymore,' he said. Verde reported that residents of the city had been stopping him in the street to thank him. 'Before it came down, one man in his eighties stopped me and said, 'Please let me see the Piazzale degli Uffizi again without the crane before I die'.' Verde said the crane had been such an irritant for Florentines because they were so attached to their collection of art, churches and palazzos — even more so than Romans. 'The link between heritage and identity here is unique in the world,' he said. The day after the crane vanished, Lucia Manneschi, a Florentine security guard, was patrolling the piazzale where the crane had stood and stopped to blink up at the blue sky. 'I'm 55 now, so I was 36 when they put that thing up,' she said. 'I'm so happy — I can't believe it's finally gone.'

The Canny Cook: Cherry tomato and pancetta pasta
The Canny Cook: Cherry tomato and pancetta pasta

Daily Mail​

timea day ago

  • Daily Mail​

The Canny Cook: Cherry tomato and pancetta pasta

Few dishes bring me as much joy in the summer as pasta with cherry tomato sauce. It has been a true staple of my warm-weather cooking for as long as I can remember. Although there may be small variations in the supporting ingredients, the heart of the dish always remains the same: really good extra virgin olive oil and vibrant tomatoes. I almost always have a punnet of cherry tomatoes in the fridge in summer, which is handy because larger ones just don't deliver the same results. Cherry tomatoes are naturally sweet and juicy, with a more concentrated flavour and lower water content. They also contain more pectin (a natural thickening agent) than bigger varieties, which means they emulsify with the olive oil to create a rich, velvety sauce. In this recipe, I've added salty pancetta, of which a little goes a long way. If you are looking for a vegetarian option, try replacing it with a couple of tablespoons of capers, torn black olives or chopped sun-dried tomatoes – anything that brings a briny, umami hit. Alternatively, you could skip the shallot and pancetta and just add some thinly sliced garlic for the simplest take on this sauce. As with most tomato- based pastas, a few torn basil leaves and a showering of grated parmesan provide the perfect finishing touches. METHOD Finely dice the shallots. Heat 2 tbsp extra virgin olive oil in a large frying pan, add the shallots and pancetta, and fry over a medium heat for 6-7 minutes until the shallot softens and the pancetta is golden. Quarter the tomatoes and add to the pan with a pinch of salt, turning up the heat a notch. Fry for another 6-7 minutes until they have broken down a little. Meanwhile, cook the pasta in a large pan of salted boiling water for a minute less than the packet instructions. Scoop out a mugful of the cooking water before draining. Tip the drained pasta into the frying pan with the tomatoes and pancetta. Add a glug of the cooking water and toss everything over the heat for a minute. Divide between plates and top with plenty of parmesan and a few torn basil leaves, if you have them. Season with ground black pepper and serve. Do you have a great recipe for eating well and cutting food bills? Email editor@ If we print it here, we'll send you a bottle of champagne *This cost assumes you already have some basic store-cupboard ingredients. prices taken from aldi and correct at time of going to press.

How to make perfect pesto and why you're probably doing it wrong
How to make perfect pesto and why you're probably doing it wrong

Times

timea day ago

  • Times

How to make perfect pesto and why you're probably doing it wrong

Isn't it funny how it's always the simplest recipes that cause the biggest disagreements? Take pesto, for example. Typically it's made from five ingredients: basil, pine nuts, oil, garlic and cheese. Yet ask people in Liguria, the Italian region where the sauce originated, and you will be given a hundred different methods. Some add parmesan, others pecorino; some grind it by hand, others blitz it in a processor. In fact, the only things they agree on is that pre-made pesto in jars is an abomination (and don't even mention vegan pesto made with nutritional yeast) — and that the only basil worth using is Genoese, grown in fields cooled by sea breezes. 'If you haven't got good basil, make something else,' says Stevie Parle, the chef behind the popular Italian pasta restaurant Pastaio in central London. He waves a large bunch of Genoese basil under my nose and it's true, it does have a more robust, spicier, less sweet scent than the basil we are used to buying in the supermarkets, which has a more metallic, minty flavour. 'Basil really is the most important thing, and this has its own PDO [protected denomination of origin quality label], meaning it's come from the right region and has been grown in the right way, facing the coast so it doesn't get too hot or too cool.' When you grow Genoese basil, you can pick a crop from it three times, but it's only the tender first crop that achieves PDO status. Parle buys his from Natoora, the vegetable wholesaler, and it comes with its roots intact to ensure freshness. 'I have tried repotting it and growing it in the past, but you will never get the same flavour because it's about the soil and climate where it comes from.' That's the basil variety agreed on, but Parle warns me that you can go down a rabbit hole chasing an illusory concept of authenticity for almost every other detail. 'Even within Liguria there's a lot of variations, some of it regional, some of it between families. Some people will blanch their basil for 10 seconds before refreshing it in iced water, especially towards the end of the basil season when the leaves are bigger and tougher. Others will add a splash of milk or cream at the end.' Parle's own quirk is to freeze the basil for 15 minutes before using it. 'It's something I overheard at my favourite restaurant to have pesto in — Da Laura, just up the coast from Portofino — and it makes absolute sense to me. It breaks the cell walls so you get a brighter, greener, more basily pesto.' The other constituents are again a question of finding the best possible varieties. To this end, Parle prefers Italian or Middle Eastern pine nuts, which are longer than the more stubby and ubiquitous Chinese ones. Their flavour is much nuttier, something he enhances by toasting them briefly in a dry pan. Then there is the choice of oil. 'This is getting quite niche now,' Parle admits, 'but you don't want a peppery oil from Tuscany as it will overpower the pesto. Ligurian oil is perfect, but it's quite hard to find in this country, so I'd recommend an oil from the south of France made from ripe black olives, which is more delicate, almost buttery.' Your ingredients assembled, you have to decide whether to use a pestle and mortar, as is traditional, or a food processor. 'It's probably better if you do it with a pestle and mortar, and ten years ago when I used to write a recipe column, I'd have said you must,' Parle says. 'But it's just ridiculous. I've got three kids and two busy restaurants [recently he launched Town on Drury Lane] — I'm using a machine.' Certainly not a knife, though. 'I actually watched a video this morning of a chef whom I really admire making his pesto with a knife, and I just thought, 'Mate, we need to have a conversation about this. I mean, why would you?' People would say you want a bit of texture, but I think that's rubbish. You want it to be completely smooth, as if you have spent hours grinding it by hand with your pestle and mortar.' The final texture he controls by adding a little optional ricotta ('I like mine on the creamy side') or a splash of pasta cooking water to make it slightly looser and glossier. You'd hope that would be all the controversies dealt with, but then we come to accompaniments. Pasta, obviously, but which one? 'I like lasagnetti,' Parle says, 'which are very fine, wide sheets, because I like the way the pesto sits on them. In Liguria you'll often get trofie, which are little twists, and they work well too. Spaghetti not so much, and I don't like conchiglie either because you don't want a shell full of pesto, you just want a slick covering.' Parle also likes to add potatoes and green beans. 'I love a double carb,' he says. 'I cut my potato very, very thin on a mandolin, so it's as thin as the pasta, and then it takes the same amount of time to cook. It just adds another interesting texture and maybe also you're getting slightly starchier water, which I think is really important. And then a few green beans because they're delicious.' That's pretty much where he draws the line. I suggest a smear of pesto on grilled fish, but he sticks his tongue out in disgust. 'No, it's not for fish, it's not for chicken — and please, it's not for sandwiches,' he says definitively. Surely there must be something else, I ask. 'Oh OK, yes, soup. You can add a spoonful to a summer bowl of minestrone if you like. I'll concede that.' Stevie Parle's ultimate pesto recipe Parle freezes the basil for 15 minutes before using it CHRIS MCANDREW FOR THE TIMES Makes about 400ml Ingredients • 100g basil leaves • 30g pine nuts • 1 small garlic clove • ½ tsp fine salt • 90g ricotta (ideally fresh sheep's ricotta) • 40g parmesan, finely grated • 100ml extra virgin olive oil Method 1. Wash and pick the basil, then lay the leaves flat on a tray and put in the freezer for 15 min — this locks in their colour. 2. Toast the pine nuts in a dry pan over a medium heat for 2-3 min, until golden and fragrant, then leave to cool. 3. Crush the garlic with the salt until smooth, using a pestle and mortar or the flat side of a knife. 4. In a high-powered blender, mix the basil, pine nuts, garlic paste, ricotta, parmesan and olive oil until it becomes silky and bright green. 5. Taste and adjust with seasoning. Loosen with a splash of cold water or more oil if needed. Six alternative pesto combinations Pesto alla Trapanese GETTY • Pesto alla Trapanese — a Sicilian version with almonds instead of pine nuts combined with fresh chopped cherry tomatoes, basil and pecorino. • Pistachio — use pistachios instead of pine nuts, and leave out the ricotta for a richer, silkier texture. • Rocket and walnut — use peppery rocket and toasted walnuts instead of basil and pine nuts to make a punchier, more wintery version. • Courgette and mint — either add mint alongside the basil or replace it, depending on your taste. Blend raw courgette, mint, garlic and lemon zest with a little parmesan for a light, summery twist. • Wild garlic — swap basil for wild garlic leaves in spring for a much stronger and earthy flavour profile. Keep everything else the same. • Parsley and hazelnut — swap out the basil for flat leaf parsley and the pine nuts for toasted hazelnuts. The toasted nuts give an almost woody, rich taste.

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