Todi

But you can drink with a lot of food from fresh fish to go to the white meat, like faraona, if you want.

In the Todi area, they made faraona alla leccarda.

I don't know if

you know this kind of dish.

One of the oldest and most famous stories in the collection takes us much further back in time, and it involves a nun, a deceased priest, and a handprint supposedly burnt into a wooden table.

The story takes us to the Italian town of Todi in the year 1731.

At that time, Mother Isabella Finari served as abbess of a convent within the town.

By all accounts, she was a respected religious figure, and there is nothing particularly unusual about her story, until the events that are said to have unfolded one evening.

We've talked about St. Callistus a few times before, and there's not a lot known about some of these early popes, so let's look at another saint that we know a little bit more of, but who is still relatively unknown.

That's St. Fortunatus of Todi, one of those early Italian bishops whose reputation survived for 1,500 years, thanks in large part to some remarkable stories preserved by Pope St. Gregory the Great.

Fortunatus lived during the 6th century and served as a bishop of Todi, a hilltop town in central Italy.

This was a difficult period for the region.

The Western Roman Empire had collapsed, wars were sweeping through Italy, and bishops often found themselves responsible for a lot more than only the spiritual needs of their people.

He wanted Christians living through frightening and uncertain times to remember that God has never abandoned his church.

Fortunatus also became associated with the healing of the sick and the deliverance of those suffering from demonic possession.

His reputation spread well beyond Todi, and pilgrims began visiting his tomb after his death.

Mm-hmm.

And she's in Todi, which is outside, about an hour outside of Rome.

And then only more distant relatives in Sicily.

Okay.