I received a few e-mails asking about Mexico and why am I thrusting myself from one culture (Italian) to another (Mexican) so quickly. So rather than write a long essay on this I urge you to check out the beauty of Mexico's Copper Canyon.
Border crossing into mainland Mexico is interesting. Especially with a motorcycle. More later...
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I'm off early in the morning for Mexico. But I found out from Stuart
(see sidebar blogroll for link) that Dina is in SFO and he's holding a
bash for her tonight. Damn. The cures and blessig of travel. I'm going
to miss meeting Dina in person. Perhaps I'll have to jourey to India
and meet her on her turf. It might be time for me to travel again soon
anyway ;-)
I'm testing my mail to weblog capability. No computer on my Mexico
trip. But if I run into an internet cafe in Baja I should be able to
post simple text only blog posts like this one.
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It's a whirlwind. I'm now sitting safely, so to speak, in Orange County. Home from Rome, Tuscany, Italy & Newark. But not for too long.
The apocalyptic skies drenching silvery streams of ash. Kinda looks like snow here. My throat more than tickles from the foreign object in gestation. Wildfire. It's sad. It's a bit scary.
Then there's my friend Mark. Shows up from SFO on his Triumph Tiger (motorcycle) only to discover his swing arm is cracked. Thereby delaying my next adventure by several hours. I'm going to have to leave and he'll catch up to me.
Where you ask?
I'm off to Mexico. To Copper Canyon. It's in the state of Chihuahua in the Western Sierra Madre. I'm taking a lot of hits and nudges from fellow bloggers and friends. Since September I've barely been home for more the 7 days. But that's not the point. This adventure, like my Wyoming excursion, will be on motorcycle. The bags are packed. I'm ready to go. But the 8 freeway just north of the Mexican border at Tecate is closed. North of me the fires have jumped the freeway and are wreaking havoc on both sides of the 15.
Me? I can only blame it on our new governor-elect. Ok. So that's not fair nor reasonable. But I've been planning this Copper Canyon dual-sport adventure motorcycle tour for a few months now. What's it mean? I'll barely be able to blog. In fact, I may not find access to the internet until the latter part of the trip when we'll cross the Sea of Cortez and take the journey home through Baja California.
So please be patient. Check back frequently. Or if you haven't signed up for e-mail alerts when something new pops up on the Digital Tavern take a moment and enter your email address into the space on the right sidebar.
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Well of course. There's much to see in Italy. And our trip was simply focused on Rome and Tuscany. We'll be back. And I'll be back on the Digital Tavern with more experiences from Siena, Chianti and Florence. But I've run out of time. It's off to Mexico. For an adventure. More later.
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We arrived after hanging with the Ciacci family. It was dark in Siena. The main Piazza empty. But the signature clock tower loomed high and proud above. The next day, the skies starting welling up and then cried. We walked the walled city of Siena and reminisced about the fight for control and struggle for power between the Sienese and the Florentines. We'll be in Florence soon. But here we'll tour the great country of Northern Tuscany known to the rest of the world as Chianti.
We met Lucca who is one of the brothers that run San Giusto A Rentennamo the makers of the Percarlo, that great Sangiovese we had back at La Grotta in Montepulciano. We had stopped in earlier to do a quick tour and tasting, but Lucca wasn't around. So we returned the next day. I wanted to open a bottle of California Merlot that I schlepped all the way from Newport Beach - a 1996 Pahlmeyer. You see one of San Giusti's rarest wines is called Ricolma. It's 100% Merlot and virtually impossible to find. And if you find it, prepare to pay. My brother Jon was able to get his hands on a bottle a year ago when he was last in Florence. We drank it last year around New Years. It blew us away. So I was determined to track down the owners and share one of California's finer Merlots.
When we arrived in the late afternoon Lucca led us to a small dwelling toward the back of the 15th century building that serves as San Giustis cellar. He opens the door and immediately the chill of the cooled Chianti evening was comforted by a toasty warming offered by an old wood burning stove in the corner. Lucca pulled a plate of salami, cheese and bread from a cupboard and placed a bottle of Olive Oil made from the 1,000+ olive trees on his property on the table. Unexpectedly, he pulled a bottle of Ricolma that was slightly more than half full and placed it on the table. I handed him the Pahlmeyer which he opened.
Lucca, Tim and I tasted the great Merlots of both Tuscany and Napa Valley. His Ricolma showed more finesse and silkiness while the Napa contingent showed brute force, power and tannin. For a 1996 the Pahlmeyer could use a few more years. Different styles from different regions. Each its own character and reflecting the personality of its maker. And for Lucca, the maker is the earth. The soil. There's not much interfering with the winemaking process at San Giusti. Sure, he explained how he's playing with drip irrigation. But his biggest challenge is understanding how the shift in weather pattern will affect how he farms and plants his vineyard. Worried that the climate may soon me more in tune to the North or Germany, he's wondering how to manage change in the vineyard. Lucca will go to Australia later this year to meet with winemakers who he says have adjusted to a similar change in weather pattern that affected a particular region down under. I need to understand more of what happened in Australia. But to watch Lucca's expression and hear in his voice the concern it makes me concerned, too.
We exchanged cards and Lucca and I agreed we'd pull corks on his next visit to California. The good news is earlier that day we met a gentlemen from Woodstock, New York who runs a wine shop in Chianti. He found us a couple bottles of Ricolma for a very reasonable price. Nice.
Photos: (1) Siena Piazza Campo at night. (2) Siena in the Rain. (3) San Giusti wines in dusty old cellar. (4) Barrels of Percarlo aging. There was no 2000 release. So it's a rare to find a bottle. (5) San Giusti Vin Santo Grapes drying on traditional bamboo racks. Amazing scene. (6) Old Vin Santo Cask waiting it's six year hibernation to end. (7) Vin Santo Grapes drying.
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That last thing you really want to read about is the food and wine Tim and I experienced in Tuscany. But perhaps you'd want a hot tip? You know, for your upcoming trip to Italy? There's no question you need to visit Montepulciano. And when in Montepulciano pull out all the stops and have perhaps the best dining experience in Tuscany at Ristorante La Grotta (San Biagio, Montepulciano. Tel: 0578 758354 Closed Wednesdays, and Jan-Feb.).
I'm not going to bore you with the Rabbit, Pici, Chianina beef, Tiramasu and other classic traditional Tuscan treats we sampled. But I will go on a bit about the wine. An amazing selection for this evenings meal:
2000 Poggio alle Gazze (the last of the white Ornellia, since Mondavi partnered with this operation this vineyard has been pulled and replaced with Cabernet, how sad)
1997 Percarlo San Giusto A Rentennamo
1988 Avignonesi Vin Santo
And no. We didn't finish the evening with Grappa. The 1997 Percarlo is a pure 100% Sangiovese from the Chianti region. But don't let the region fool you. This wine while light in color packs a full bodied punch with such elegance and flair you are taken back and while the wine coats your tongue and tickles your throat with its amazingly long finish. If I didn't know this was sangiovese, I'd swear it had the complexity and mouth feel of a bordeaux varietal, but with finesse rarely found in a young wine from France or California. Many of my friends have yet to understand the Italian wines, other than the big California or French imitators (aka Super Tuscans). But the great indigenous to this part of Italy is Sangiovese. And many feel that to plant cabernet is to violate an ultimate truth. "What? You want the wines from Italy to taste as if they're from California, France or Australia, merde!"
As for the 2000 Poggio alle Gazze, what can I say. This is a Sauvignon Blanc that perhaps also is a varietal better suited to Bordeaux or Napa. But to folks at Ornellia planted this grape many years ago to complement their highly rated and sought after Super Tuscan the almighty Ornellia. But what the hell. Mondavi came in and ripped out the vineyard to plant something else. Sangiovese you might think? Nah. Cabernet. So much for my discussion on indigenous culture. Ah. But the 1988 Avignonesi Vin Santo? We searched high and low for this wine. Every wine store and ristorante shook their heads and in the best broken English would tell us "all finish". Ah. They meant it's not available. Avignonese waits 10 years, which is 4 more than the typical aging period for a Vin Santo, per the DOC standards. But recently Avignonesi changed their production methods and will age future Vin Santo wines for 12 years. This put an additional strain on a production that barely yields 1,000 cases worldwide. But this wine was luscious and better than the best Chateau D'Yquem from Sauternes I've ever tasted. It's certainly thicker. But that's what happens to an d'Yquem after 50 years. But this wine was only 15 years old. More reasonable in my opinion. Caramel, creme brulee and honey flavors. Nectar. I've never been a huge desert wine fan. Sure, love the great Sauternes. But mostly I prefer Port. And I generally have a short glass of anything sweet and sticky that comes in a glass bottle. But this wine went on forever. And so did I when talking about it for the next several days.
I'm looking for more, so if you have a bottle let's break bread!
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Altesino has been a familiar name in Brunello di Montalcino since the early 70's. Their Brunello designated Montosoli Vineyard is consistently highly related, delicious, hard to get and expensive. But worth it. Last year the previous owners sold the vineyard and brand to a woman who resides in Rome and who owns another vineyard in Montalcino and a winery in Chianti.
Taking a 20 minute drive outside of Montalcino we turn onto a dirt road and pass a number of farms, vineyards and farmhouses till we get to the top of crest overlooking golden hue colored rolling hills with green cypress trees sprinkled here in there. We have a private tour and tasting here today but a woman from Long Island stumbled upon the farm (in Italy these estates are really not called vineyards or wineries, they are simply farms - Fattoria) remembering visiting the property a couple years ago, this woman was there because of the property, not the wine. When sipping the Vin Santo (a dry sweet wine) she felt it was "too strong". But I'm diverting. After taking a cell phone call in the middle of the tour we were ready for business as we gazed across the vast property toward the south east where our guides fingers pointed to the vineyard that made Altesino famous: the Montosoli. The Long Island woman's comment was simple, straightforward and honest. "I liked it better with the previous owners because they let 30 wild horses roam the property.
We were treated to a special tour of the room where the Vin Santo is made. Rather than explain the process of making Vin Santo, I'm going to draw on an article titled Elixir of the cognoscenti by Tomas Clancy of The Sunday Business Post:
The process of Vin Santo creation is called passito and is a grape-drying method.
The grapes, usually the widely-planted but somewhat underwhelming Trebbiano and the Malvasia, are harvested more or less on time. Then they are hung up on racks or laid on bamboo hammocks, usually and classically in the attic of the vineyard owner's house. The grapes are left to dry out very slowly, by natural action.
Once desiccated fully, sometime around February (again the timing is a matter of great anxiety), the grapes are crushed. The crush is then poured evenly into numerous small wooden barrels known as caratelli.
They must be as small as you can afford and there are many regulations on maximum size, particularly for those who wish to comply with DOC rules on Vin Santo production. These small wooden casks in contrast to the general fetish are not new, indeed, older casks with long vinous histories are most prized here.
Then the next stage is the X element in each producer's creative cycle. Before the casks are sealed, each Vin Santo maker will drop in a dollop of 'something' into the cask.
The something is a 'fuse' designed to ignite the fermentation process. This is known as the 'mother', the same 'madre' often seen in vinegar production. It is often merely the lees from a prior fermentation, although occasionally it might also contain a little special family additive.
Whether they are adding a shuffle of yeast or just pouring it in through their grandfather's favourite funnel, you are never going to find out. Its effect is probably mythical anyway. The casks are then sealed, and gently brought back up to the attic.
The attics of classical Vin Santo production are wide, graceful spaces below sensuous, umber tiled roofs. In the winter they are chill places, across which clouds of wood smoke drift. Even during a single day they can run a full cycle from boiling heat to unexpected bitter chill.
The casks remain absolutely still, no racking, no movement of any kind for at least three years, but good Vin Santo can stay up there, like a wooden Mir, for seven or eight years. When the casks return to earth they are quickly bottled and sold for extortionate, but entirely economic prices.
The best producers can make a wine of staggering and hypnotic power. The worst end up with something resembling meths. In Ireland we are fortunate, because of the price and the required levels of commercial sophistication that are necessary to bring a product -- even a boutique one -- to market, we are spared the meths.
In Tuscan Vin Santo production there are many princes and one king. The undisputed Holy Grail is the stellar Vin Santo of the Montepulciano House Avignonesi. It is produced by Paolo Trappalini to a searing intensity after a 'no expense spared' production process. This is just what you would expect when a half bottle of the wine runs to roughly £170.
As for the Holy Grail, the next night Tim and I experienced the Holy Grail in more ways the one. Stay tuned!
Photos: (1) Aging bottles of Altesino wine in cellar of 14th Century Palace. (2) Slovenian casks in Altesino Cellar. (3) Vin Santo grapes recently harvest and in process of 5-6 month hang drying prior to crushing. (4) Tim Santo backlit by the vineyard sun casting watchful eye over the next vintage of Vin Santo.
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For me, the true benefits of traveling transcend the history, geography, scenic beauty, the sense of freedom of being "away" and the comeraderie shared with those traveling. Instead, it's the people I meet. And while I've probably not done justice to the dozens of people I've met and shared experiences with on this trip, I can't underestimate the sense of joy I revel in when getting to know someone who lives in a place so far from me geographically and culturally.
While it's no secret both Tim and I share a passion for wine. And our trip here to Italy is focused on learning more about the culture, history and of course the wine and cuisine of Tuscany. And after a great visit with Piero Palmucci, we returned to the tiny village of Castelnuevo del'Abate to understand more about the great wines from Ciacci Piccolomini Brunello.
Compared to many of the Brunello di Montalcino estates Ciacci Piccolomini D'Aragona is fairly young. And the story of Giuseppe Biancini and how he came to build Ciacci is amazing. For 30 years Giuseppe Biancini worked as an administrator to the estate of countess Piccolomini who lived in the 17th century bishop's palace built for Fabio De Vecchi, Abbot of Sant'Antim, Count Palatine and Pontifical Advisor, 400 hectares of land which at the time this story begins only had 2 hectares planted in vineyards.
In 1985 the countess died and Giuseppe Biancini was called to the notary office. Perhaps Giuseppe was more preoccupied with dealing with the estates eventual fate. Or maybe he was preoccupied with thoughts about finding his first new job in 30 years so he could continue to support his wife and two young children. Whatever Giuseppe was thinking, I'm confident he wasn't mentally prepared to deal with what happened in the notary's office that fateful morning in 1985.
That morning he learned that he was the new owner of the Ciacci property. The countess left him no money, but all the property. Why? Because he was the only person she felt truly loved the land. As the adage goes, the rest is history. Giuseppe had to sell off part of the property to raise the money to pursue his dream. That is, to make a first class Brunello di Montalcino. And nearly 20 years later the wines of Ciacci have received critical acclaim including joining the ranks of the best 100 wines in the world by Wine Spectator last year (#21 and 97 points for the 1997 Brunello).
In our usual fashion, Tim and I showed up late for our appointment. According to Jenna, the USA-born hostess for Ciacci we would be joining 7 others for a tour and tasting of the ancient estate. After meandering around the small town and wedging the Fiat into what could be considered a parking space, we burst into the door of Ciacci a bit red-faced and embarrassed. We were met immediately by Jenna. And it turns out that there were only two other visitors who'd be joining us. Even better, these visitors included a friend of hers from Brooklyn, Andy Shernoff, the bass player from the 70's NY punk band, The Dictators who had played a gig in Rome a few days earlier. And according to Jenna, this would turn out in our favor because we'd get the VIP treatment. That is, tasting wines and visit parts of the property not normally available for casual guests.
I really wanted to met Giuseppe Bianchini. I had read his story in a book that Tim had purchased in Montepulciano titled SuperTuscans. Ciacci makes such a wine called ATEO. So I wanted to get Giuseppe to sign the book and hear more about his amazing story. Unfortunately, Giuseppe was no where to be found. Jenna detected my disappointment. Just then an Italian man walked by the tasting area and Jenna pulled him into the room. We were introduced to Paolo, Giuseppe's son. Paolo didn't speak much English show Jenna translated. The mood loosened from the great wine, smiles and casual manner in which this VIP treatment was going. Soon I was attempting to joke and make word play with Paolo. Finally, I withdraw my Lonely Planet Phrase Book (no not the Indonesian version, the Italian) and I tried to impress the crowd with my Italian.
To try to explain what happened next isn't easy. Simply the facts. The LP Phrase Book has a section for everything. If you're at the dentist you have the phrase to tell the doctor you don't want an extraction. In the vegetarian eating section you have the phrase to establish your a vegan, if so. There's even the section on car repair. But the section I flipped to simply by chance was called "getting closer". Ah. More specifically. On sex. So in my best Italian I read the phrase "I only will do it with a condom." Laughter permeated those who spoke Italian. Andy and Tim were wondering what was so funny. Anyway, the book goes into explicit phrases of how to express oneself during a sexual encounter. Even on how to suggest such an encounter.
After the laughter subsided we were treated to jeep ride to remote vineyards and a tour of the new barrel room, wine making facility and bottling area. Upon returning to the palace we learned that the office crew was very curious about my phrase book. One older woman was so taken by it she wanted to make photo copies so she would know how to say such things in English.
We were supposed to have a short stay at Ciacci and then get on the road early to Siena. But we were having too much fun. Oh. The wines. We tasted a Syrah that was in its third year of release called Fabius. Great. A bit of oak cause of a tough vintage so Jenna admitted that the prior years' were more expressive in terms of terroir. But the wine was viscous, complex and very interesting. The Brunello. It's actually only one of two wines that received the coveted "three glass" rating for 1998 Brunello. For 1998, I think it's the best Brunello value - probably available in the states for $50.
Photos: (1) Jenna from Ciacci at the wheel of the company jeep; (2) Andy Shernoff as photographer but still in that bass playing pose seen on stage with The Dictators. (3) Paolo Bianchini with Jenna and the woman who smiled so much but I forgot her first name, oooops. (4) The new Slovenian Oak Casks at Ciacci's new facility.
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I've had a bit of problem getting images from this trip to upstream. But I think I've solved the problem. If you found bad links in the past posts you've read, scroll down and the images should display correctly now. Sorry for the inconvenience. Just what goes with the territory when away from DSL and broadband!
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He's a sturdy and tall man with large hands. Tufts of grey hair flapped in the wind as he talked to us about his vineyards and the improvements and expansion he's made in the last two years to his cellar and winemaking facilities. Half of his shirt was untucked and peeking out from under his cream colored corduroy jacket, and while he looks a bit more like the farmer he's been for the last 15 years, his command of the English language and passion for the finer things in life revealed a bit of his past as a successful executive in the shipping business.
Piero Palumucci along with his wife Elisabeth are proprietors of Fattoria Poggio di Sotto, a small farm and winery south of Montalcino overlooking the village of Castelnuovo dell'Abate. Poggio di Sotto consists of 12 hectares of vineyards and about 1,400 olive trees. Piero and Elisabeth produce about 2,000 cases of wine annually including Brunello di Montalcino, Rosso di Montalcino and Moscatto, a desert wine that he makes simply for his family and friends. Oh. And of course, he makes a grappa.
He stands tall and proud wielding a toothy smile as he explains how his vineyards and the valley that is their home run from 200 to 450 meters above sea level. Insisting this valley is the best place to grow Sangiovese in Montalcino Commune because of the Southern and Eastern sun exposure. The grapes get more hours of sun and the valley cools nicely in the evening. The perfect climatical recipe for great Brunello.
The Palmucci's office, winemaking, storage and bottling operation are under the beautiful stone farmhouse they call home. A new addition has enabled Piero to move the barrel storage out of his office. Using the latest and best in equipment, Piero is sure to point out, he has created a classic gravity flow winery using modern techniques. The man wreaks with passion as he walks us through his cellar explaining that he drops more than half of the fruit in the vineyard and thereby possibly producing less juice per hectare than any of his Brunello brethren.
He pulls the protective plastic cover over his moto table. Explaining that no one else in Montalcino has this expensive table. His eyes focused and assured yet his smile disarming as he explains that 4-5 workers hand pick grapes from the clusters of the Sangiovese Grosso grapes picked from his meticulously managed vineyards. We walk over to a small two-wheeled machine. This is the pump that he uses to pump the wine after fermentation and during barrel racking. It's expensive, Piero assures us, but worth it. Why? Because it's more gentle on the wine.
To tell you the man is passionate about quality tells you nothing about Palmucci. He's obsessed with quality. And he's obsessed about controlling the process. He has the ability to produce much more wine than he currently does. He will increase slightly. But to produce much more will endanger the quality because it will be more difficult to control the process.
His barrel storage cellar is large and the large cellar dwarfs the small inventory of Slovenian oak casks. There's room for expansion. But then I notice sprinklers on the floor in the center of the room. Palmucci explains this is for controlling the humidity. He ushers to a control panel on the wall and makes a few adjustments then the sprinklers eke out a fine mist. He smiles as we gaze across the room. I wanna be a kid and run through the fine mist, but I restrain myself as Palmucci leads us to the bottling room.
Once again Palmucci explains this is the best bottling machine available. And it's expensive, of course. But his comments shouldn't be confused as boasting, he assures us that if he buys cheap he'll just have to replace it. Best to buy for the future. This man wants to produce great wine -- for the duration.
We see what appears to be a simple mechanical contraption shoved in the corner of a hallway. It's not so simple. It's a device that allows him to place the bottles after bottling and corking so that they sit upright for a few days while the cork expands and sets. Then he simply tilts this device like a wheelbarrow and the wine bottles rest on their side until ready for release. Which for Brunello is 5 years after harvest.
Tasting the wine and we can revel in Palmucci's passion for quality. We're drinking the 1998, not a great year for Brunello. Not like 1997. But that may have been an anomaly. We learn later that the weather for the last five years has not touched 1997's amazing conditions. Palmucci coats the Riedel glasses with his 1998 Brunello. Then pushes the stem toward me and tells me to smell the glass. I like this process I see used quite often in Tuscany. He does the same for Tim then pours us each a glass while explaining that Sangiovese is never dark purple. And warns that if we see Brunello as such, chances are it is not 100% Sangiovese. Sangiovese is never dark. The wine is a bit ruby a bit brick red. Fruit and floral notes surround a core of herbs and spice. On the palate it's delicate, smooth with soft tannins. The finish is long. I swirl it my mouth as the juice blankets my tongue, teeth and roof. Hmmm. This is good. From Palmucci's perspective as he nestles the bottle between his two large hands is of me smiling. I see him waiting in anticipation for a response. An emotion. Some sign from me that I'm enjoying the wine. I nod. Speechless. What am I supposed to say. I bring the glass to my lips again while looking directly in his eyes. Nod again. he smiles.
"For me the pleasure is making something other people will enjoy," Palmucci breaks the silence. For Tim and I, he's achieved that. To be sure his wine is not cheap. Yet it's not the most expensive in Brunello. But it has to be. His detail and expense into his total hand operation is costly. And he refuses to compromise.
We throw our purchases of wine and olive oil in the back of the Punto and drive down the long dirt road passing hectares of vineyards with clusters of grapes dotting the ground. A sure sign that Palmucci isn't joking. He's a serious a winemaker as I've ever met.
Photos: 1) Poggio di Sotto wines, olive oil and grappa; 2) Piero Palmucci, perhaps the most serious and passionate producer of Brunello di Montalcino; 3) the home, office, winemaking facility and cellar for Fattoria Poggio di Sotto; 4) the cellars of Poggio di Sotto - note the sprinklers used for controlling humidity; 5) the view to Castelnuovo dell'Abate from Fattoria Poggio di Sotto.
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We headed north from Montepulciano to the medieval hilltop town of Montalcino. Like most of the towns and villages that dot the picturesque Tuscan landscape, Montalcino is a town made up of steep narrow travertine lined streets lined with stone buildings dating from the 14th century and many enoteca's (wine bars). In Montalcino this is where you'll sample the wine that makes this town internationally famous: Brunello di Montalcino. More on that later.
From miles away as you approach the town Montalcino reveals itself delicately perched on its hill. Commanding the skyline is a Fortezza. A 14th century fort that protected the town from the battling Sienese and Florentines, depending on what century and who was in favor at the time. Inside this massive fort is an enoteca where we enjoyed you'll find the largest selection of the local vino for tasting. If you take to heart tasting and not drinking you'll want to walk up the steep narrow stone staircases to the rampart and feast your eyes on eternal views of the Tuscan hills, gentle gold and in this afternoons light somewhat surreal, like a painting.
Perhaps the best part of Montalcino is where we're staying. In Italy, or at least Tuscany, there are a number of lodging options. From luxury hotels in the bigger villages or cities, to small boutique hotels, apartments (called cameres), rooms in private homes (called zimmers) or agriturismo (staying on private working farms or wineries in a farm). Of course, there are villas and more. In Montalcino we found a camere above a small wine shop directly adjacent to the giant Fortezza. Even better, the room is on the top floor of a 3 story building and features a large terrace where we can gaze across the vineyards and barren hills of the Commune di Montalcino, the rustic terracotta rooftops of the ancient Montalcino buildings and of course the Fortezza.
Montalcino is extremely hilly and steep. And if I haven't noted before, after a few days walking these towns I'm getting a bit of a workout. Waking up in the morning to the reminder that streets of Newport and of New York City for Tim don't tax the muscles as Montalcino and Montepulciano tend to.
I'm in awe at the elderly people I see daily walking up and down the steep streets. With the help of a cane they make their daily pilgrimage to the co-op, bakery, trattoria or friends' homes. In Montepulciano I remember running into the same old woman using two canes and barely moving up the road at crawling speed. I'd pass her on the way up and the way down. Each time exchanging pleasantries and smiles. I saw here every day for the three days I spent there, amazing. And it's the same in Montalcino. It reminded me something my ex-wife's 93-year-old grandma told me when I headed to the elevator in her apartment complex. She insisted walking up the stairs. "I'm going to walk, Allan," she'd say, "while I still can." Anytime I think of using an elevator or escalator I think of here. And walk.
Photos: 1) The view from the Fortezza in Montalcino at dusk. 2) Another view from thee rampart of the Fortezza of Montalcino's clock tower and cathedral. Note the burnt siena colored building in the foreground with the terrace. This is where we're staying in Montalcino. 3) Shot from our terrace across Montalcino rooftops. 4) Doing the 'cane walk'. Tackling the steep streets is an everyday event no matter your age.
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Took a little excursion to the town of Cortona which is just east of Montepulciano. East of the "highway" A1, Cortona offers stunning views of Tuscany looking west. Originally settled by the Etruscans somewhere around the 8th century BC, and later became a Roman town. Like many of these towns we're cruising through there are plenty of enotecas to sample the local wines. We found a small enoteca/osteria that had perhaps the best selection of wines by the glass we've seen since arriving in Italy. We sampled a local Cortona wine a Syrah from Il Bosco and couldn't resist splitting a glass of the 1999 Tignanello. Enamored by the prospect of visiting the Chiesa di Santa Margherita we climbed and climbed and climbed to what seemed to be the top of Cortona hoping to get a glance at this Gothic cathedral but arriving to the doors panting and sweating from meandering the maze of uphill narrow streets only to find a local service was in process which we just wouldn't breach.
Oh well. For me the real treat was running into an elderly couple who were sitting on a bench high up on the hill gazing over the Tuscan scenery to the North. I sat down next to them for a few moments and tried in my best Italian (which is awful, by the way) to strike a conversation. Where we agreed in concept and vocabulary was bella bella (beautiful). I asked them if I could take their photo. The character and age in their skin and eyes warmed my soul better than the Tignanello as I chatted with them. Bella.
Photos: 1) elderly Cortona couple; 2) the view we all enjoyed from east Cortona heights.
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A short drive from Montepulciano took us to the medieval town of Pienza. While those showing perhaps more favor to the church rather than the land will relish telling you Pienza was home and birthplace (1405) of Pope Pius II (elected in 1458), others with mouth watering affinity to formaggio will gladly explain that Pienza is home to world famous pecorino cheese. And within 5 minutes of pulling into this ancient town and walking into a local cheese shop the waft of stinky cheese nearly knocks you down. Feasting your eyes and nose on the great sheep cheese and I'm reminded once again of something I'd never find back home.
To say Pienza is beautiful would be too much and understatement and frankly typical and expected. What hill top medieval town in Tuscany isn't scenic? You could walk the entire village in less than 15 minutes. But we stayed most the afternoon. Some may travel to check major sights off their list, or simply to have their photo taken by a notably monument, architectural feat or storybook vistas, but for many others travel is about experience. Not what you see through the lens or read in a tour book.
Wandering the narrow alleys lined with flower decorated windows, travertine paths and locals hanging their laundry to dry. Cute old couples walk arm and arm slowly off the main road. I do my best to catch their eye after a few tourists ahead of me blow by them as if they were simply shadows taking up no space. "Buongiorno!" I say. Smiles appear and their stooped bodies straighten a bit and the woman returns with the colloquial or lazy response, "Giorno."
What appears to be a small art class, several students huddle in the Piazza Pio trying to capture the late afternoon sun as it casts light and playful shadows on the Bernardo Rossellino's designed Piazza, which was built by Pope Pius II to honor himself. The Duomo and Palazzo Piccolomini, the former papal palace, punctuate the piazza. As I meander the streets my curiosity is peaked by more than several references to the moon [^] Luna in the name of many of the shops and cafés. Not sure the fascination with the moon here in Pienza, but it doesn't matter. I could walk these streets for days. Easy.
I round the corner and find a gelataria. Time for a little stratciatella.
Photos: 1) the view from Montalpulciano looking over Tuscan hills to Pienza; 2) Local cheese and salami shop in Pienza, Italy; 3) Duomo (cathedral) in Pienza at Piazza Pio; 4) Travertine walkway with classic Pienza window; 5) Romanesque arches with ionic columns of Pienza town hall off Piazza Pio; 5) You gotta be short to enter the doorway to this shop in Pienza -- what's with the Luna?
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It's about the wine. And it's about the food. Welcome to Tuscany.
For most people when they think of Italy and wine, images of Chianti wrapped in wicker bottles perhaps come to mind. Or maybe the simple but excellent Pinot Grigio. But if you're passionate about wine Italy conjures images of rolling Tuscan hills and the other great wine regions of Piedmont, Umbria, Lazio, Alto Adige and more. Perhaps the most famous wines come from Piedmont and Tuscany. So for this journey Tim and I decided on Tuscany - home of Chianti, Brunello, the so-called Super Tuscans and of course Vino Nobile di Montepulciano.
Traveling for me brings the opportunity to immerse myself as much as possible in the culture of my destination. I do my best to learn the basics of the language without bastardizing it too much. To be sure, French will always escape me. And the French don't care anyway. So why should I. It's also important for me to engage in conversation and friendly smiles with the local people -- regardless of the language barrier. And of course, I want to sample the tastes of the local cuisine; especially indulging in the fresh and typical ingredients. There's no exception in Italy. And I'm doing my best to broaden my experience. To live. As if I did. Here.
While the pomodoro (tomato) is at the end of the season, I can't help but to search for the ultimate bruschetta -- where it was born, in Tuscany. And every town we walk through it's hard not to fall victim to the good (but perhaps not always so good for you) salami and other cured meats. The list goes on. We've found that the porcini mushrooms are very much in season and fresh. Match that with Chianini beef and you're on the way gastronomy heaven. The list goes on. Truffles too are in season as is wild boar. The local Sienese pasta (Pici) with any number of sauces utilizing fresh ingredients delight the palate. And no matter where you are in Italy, every day is a good day for gelato. Outstanding.
But allow me to diverge. And for those perhaps less passionate about wine, I hope not to bore you. If anything, I hope to enlighten or entertain you. There's no question that Tim and I have been indulging in both casual Trattoria's and the finer restaurants in the towns we visit. Inasmuch as the food is outstanding, what I've noticed is that in most cases the wine presentation is different than I've head elsewhere in Europe and the United States.
After ordering a bottle of wine, and for Tim and I this can take 3/4's of the time spent in the restaurant as we labor over the excellent choices on the wine lists where we typically have been ordering both a bianca and rosso (white and red), the server rolls a small table (or in some cases when they're not on wheels, carefully picks it up) to the edge of our table. On the neatly white draped table usually rests several stems of finer stemware, a decanter and a corkscrew. The server presents the bottle and proceeds to put the corkscrew to use. After delicately pulling the cork off the bottle with much effort to not create a "popping" sound, he or she smells the cork. Upon satisfying the server's olfactory organ, he'll pour a small amount into a glass, then lift it to his nose then lips and tastes it. Now this part is not so unusual except for perhaps in the United States where rarely the server will taste the wine before presenting it to the diner.
It's now when the real passion for the wine shows in a Tuscan restaurant. The server then pours a small amount of wine into the decanter. Of course, if the wine requires no decanting then this step is eliminated. He then swirls the wine to cover as much of the surface of the decanter as possible. When satisfied he pours the small amount of wine from the decanter into one of the stems. Again he coats the inside of the glass with the wine and then like a careful chemist dressed in server garb he pours the wine into the next stem, and so on. Tim has now fondly referred to this process as "charging" the glass. Whatever it's called, it's welcomed. This ensures that any vagrant remains either light dust, pour rinsing after washing or whatever doesn't affect the aroma nor flavor of the wine.
But my observation of this technique doesn't end in the restaurant. Several of the cantinas (cantina is a word for winery or wine cellar) we've visited for desgustazione (wine tasting) have used the same technique for presenting and sharing their wines. And I should note that the cantinas that approach winemaking seriously will use the best stemware, usually from Riedel or Spieglau, to present and taste their wines.
Now you might think this is a bit overkill. But having experienced drinking wine from stemware that wasn't properly washed or sat on the shelf too long, you'll appreciate a clean and ready glass. What's more, if you use this process when drinking multiple varieties of wines from the same glass, you'll experience the new wine without the lingering aromas and flavors of the previous. Never use water to rinse a glass prior to pouring in something new. Always rinse with wine. Trust me. It makes a difference.
Alright. Enough of the wine. For now anyway. I'll be sure to continue to share with you the tastes and flavors of Italy as we make our way from Montepulciano to Florence through the small towns of Tuscany. Stay tuned.
Photos: 1) classic Tuscan crostini with duck liver pate and vin santo jelly; 2) taglietelle pasta with rabbit and porcini muchrooms; 3) wine presentation: smelling the cork; 4) working server couple toasting Italy and its flavors with us in Montepulciano; 5) Tim examining the color and tasting Tuscan's finest product; 6) Tuscan wines for dinner decanted and ready to taste
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Montelpulciano is a quiet small medieval town about 3 hours north of Rome. Famous for its grand wine, Vino Nobile di Montepulciano the cobble stone streets are steep, narrow and lined with traditional cafes, butcher shops, enotecas and a handful of tourist oriented shops. Arriving mid-evening last night I drove the "hot" Fiat Punto through the gate at Porta al Prato and slowly meandered up the main drag being careful not to run over the feet of any of the many people oblivious to the fact the street is also used for cars. Frankly, Montepulciano is one of few medieval towns in this part of Italy that allows vehicular traffic.
Tim had made the hotel reservation and the information was tucked into his baggage in the trunk. He assured me that he'd recognize the hotel from either a visual reference or by name. As we climbed up the street toward the Piazza Grande we noticed a number of helpful signs that pointed the direction to many hotels -- called Albergos. We quickly found our selves leaving the walled city. Confused Tim was drawing on his memory while I negotiated hairpin turns that led me outside the town. Looking for the "return loop" Tim noticed a sign for an Albergo. "That's it!"
I cranked the steering wheel and rapidly climbed that Punto up a steep path, through a public parking area and down an extremely narrow, moody and very scenic street just past the walls of the city. Tim with his neck craned looking up the 13th century facades for a name of our hotel when I realized something was terribly wrong. "Shit!" I quickly realized that I had passed into town through a "Do Not Enter" sign on a street that was one of only two that led motorists out of town. Keep in mind this street is barely wide enough to fit my very narrow Fiat Punto. Just waiting to get busted or look really stupid going the wrong way. "Stop!" Tim yelled as a brought the car to an abrupt halt. Like something out of a speeded up scene in a Laurel and Hardy movie we pulled all of our luggage out of the car to the side of the road.
As Tim dealt with checking in I did the impossible. Turned that Fiat 180 degrees around in what must be a record number of points in a turn -- maybe 20? Oddly enough I remembered too late that this Fiat had an interesting push button feature on the dash labeled "City". It's purpose? Cranks up the power steering making negotiating city streets it easier on your wrists and biceps. Oh well.
Tim discovered that something was wrong with our reservation and we would not get the room with the terrace for the first night. No worries. We were there. In Montepulciano. The proprietor of the "Albergo" instructed me where to park and gave me a pass to place on the dash. When I walked out of the hotel I noticed two cars patiently waiting behind my Punto. In most cities the driver would have honked. Nice. I pulled away and parked my car down a steep street a 1/4 mile from the hotel.
I began what would be come a regular ritual while in Montepulciano, I climbed up the steep street back to the hotel. When I rounded the corner I saw Tim wandering rather aimlessly in the middle of the street. He had the wacky smirk that always triggers a smile and laugh on his face. Wondering why he wasn't getting the luggage into our room, but before I could get a word out he said while laughing, "It's the wrong hotel!" No wonder they didn't have the reservation.
Ahhh. The fun and adventure of traveling ad hoc. What else would you expect from a couple guys looking to spend a few weeks in Italy sampling the greatest in gastronomy and wine?
We found our hotel and as I pen the last few words of this post while sitting on the terrace of our room where the morning before I woke up early enough to watch the rising sun over brown Tuscan hills. Surreal.
Photos: (r to l starting at top) 1) sunrise over Tuscany from Il Albergo Marzocco; 2) Looking west toward Siena over rooftops of Montepulciano; 3) Narrow streets of Montepulciano; 4 & 5) Tim and Allan at Borgo Buio an osteria in Montepulciano sampling the local vino
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Last night someone was rocking down the house at the U.S. Embassy in Rome. True story. As Tim and I rounded the corner and headed down the block toward our hotel we heard loud thumping music. Thinking maybe that Jackie O's was letting it out a bit more than usual we realized that the party was at the Embassy. In true Europe club fashion there was a long line outside the entrance to the embassy and the Polizi turned bouncers were holding the crowd at bay and screening those who by chance could jump the line.
Maybe i should have tried to talk our way in. Another one of those cases where I regret what I didn't do -- never what I do!
After a disappointing visit to the rental car office near our hotel, we were on the road to Tuscany in a new Fiat Punto. You see we had reserved a little Alpha Romeo turbo diesel hatchback. Small enough to not get wedged between the walls of the tiny stone lined streets of the medieval towns we'd be bopping around for the next several days, yet powerful enough to let it open up on the Autodstrade. But no. Here we are in a box shaped car that should make any passionate Italian designer a bit embarrassed. No turbo diesel. No style. But functional. Functional that is until you try to accelerate onto the Autostrade.
Not that this is new to me or any of you reading, but these Italian drivers -- call it European drivers -- have no interest in lines that divide lanes. Nor do they think twice about accelerating at extreme rates of speed until they nearly run into the back of you and latch onto your bumper. And when driving safely in the right lane the drivers that pass cut back quickly and sharply into your lane after their rear bumper is just pass your front bumper by a few inches. And of course they never seem to go all the way into the right lane. Instead they simply straddle the dividing line until they come up on the next unsuspecting driver.
All this is in fun and of no consequence to my experience here in Italy. I find the people to be friendly, helpful and unlike those I met on my last European excursion in France, willing to listen and try to understand my poor pronunciation and lack of Italian vocabulary.
On the way to Tuscany we stopped into Orvieto, a small medieval town in Umbria. The highlight of this stop beyond the classic white wine of Orvieto is the Cathedral that graces the central plaza. Built in the 1300's features both Romanesque and Gothic influences. This is because it took so long to build and architects changed during the construction. But the real treat to the Duomo (cathedral) in Orvieto is its facade. Unfortunately more than half of this is covered in scaffolding as renovation is well under way. Oh well. Next time.
So I sit writing this post in my hotel room in Montepulciano home of some of the greatest (and perhaps underrated) wine in Italy - Vino Nobile di Montelpulciano.
Photos: 1) apartment windows overlooking Piazza della Rotonda and the Pantheon in Rome; 2) 14th Century relief depicting hell and damnation on the facade of the Duomo in Orvieto
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The streets of Rome are narrow, busy, noisy and fast. There are so many different modes of transportation that we never see in the United States. Much like any crowded metropolitan city, whether Europe, Asia or South America, the objective is to move fast to and from your destination no matter the danger. In Rome there are tens of thousands of scooters, mopeds and motorcycles. But clearly scooters take up the bulk of this two-wheeled population. Fortunately most Romans wear helmets, and unlike Southeast Asia, when male riders carry their female passengers the woman straddle the saddle rather than sit sideways with both feet dangling on one side. Or course this can be a challenge for an Italian lady traveling to dinner on a Friday night dressed to kill like one lady we saw with fishnet stockings kneww high boots and a tiny black slit skirt. The scooter was modern in its aerodynamic design, but it was the girl that was racy.
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Rome is all history. Ok. So some may go for the food, others for shopping, but most go to take in the history. Ancient Rome, Old Rome and latter day Rome. Arguably, perhaps the two most visited areas are Ancient Rome including Ceaser's Forum and The Coliseum as well as Vatican City in all its glory of St. Peter's Basilica, the Vatican Museums and the Sistine Chapel. Perhaps a part of Rome's past that leaves a bit of a blemish on the city's most visited sites is the legacy of Mussolini.
Mussolini made his mark on Rome through two roads or avenues he plowed right through the Ancient Ruins and up to the Vatican. Not that Rome couldn't use a little relief in the traffic. Like most of Europe that when the roads were built (and certainly not in a day) nobody was thinking motor vehicles. I mean there's absolutely no parking for the Coliseum. Ha!
Mussolini wanted grand avenues to parade his troops through the city. So right over ruins that are centuries years old he paved the four lane "highway" Via dei Fori Imperiali and leading up to the Vatican he built via Concilizone taking out small winding pathways that were designed to obscure St. Peters and The Vatican from visitors' views until they'd pass through the gates revealing it in its vast size and amazing beauty of art and architecture. This was his statement or celebration marking the signing of the Lateran Accords of 1929 by he and Pope Pius XI. The Accords solved a number of problems that alienated the Papacy and the state of Italy and the Italian Government ever since the Italian Unification in 1870. Thus, Vatican City was born.
Inside the Vatican Museums we were shuffled along with crowds of people taking tours, breezing by works of art dating back to the Egyptians (2400 BC), The Etruscans (700 BC) and Ancient Greece (approx 100-200 BC). We are told that October is the slow season in Rome. I can't imagine being in the Vatican with more people. We had scheduled a tour directly with the Vatican (recommended if you go) allowing us to scoot ahead of a line of what seemed to be more than 1,000 waiting outside. Also disturbing to me is that lining the artifact and art filled corridors are vendors offering up all the Church has to offer those interesting in shopping and consuming. Silly.
Inside the Sistine Chapel hundreds of tourists crane their necks to see Michelangelo's grand work that he spent more than four years on his back painting -- yet it took 19 years to complete the restoration which was unveiled in time for the Millennium. Perhaps most important in the restoration is the removal of many of the loin clothes that were painted onto Michelangelo's fresco after his death by a former student, Volterra. The Vatican censors, namely Biagio da Cesena, who declared "such pictures were better suited to a bathroom, or a roadside wine-shop, than to a chapel of a pope". Michelangelo's fresco was declared obscene by the Council of Trent in January 1564. A few days later Michelangelo died.
What also amazes me about the Romans, the Catholic Church and the preservation of history is how so many things inside the Vatican, including St. Peter's itself, is made up of materials "stolen" from other historical sites in Rome. We'd probably have more of the Coliseum to see and less of St. Peter's since much of the marble in the largest church in the world was taken from Nero's venue and the huge alter inside the Basilica was made of bronze ripped from the Pantheon, perhaps the oldest complete structure in Rome (120 AD). But this is all history. I won't even get into Napoleon and his arch.
We're going to take in a bit more of the Roman lifestyle before heading to Tuscany. When in Rome...
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I just received an email from Apple announcing that its next major release of OS X operating system software will be available to the public on October 24, 2003. This is almost exactly 14 months since Jaguar was released.
The new version, called Panther, offers a host of new features. Perhaps most important is a navigational tool called Expose. I've been running a developer's pre-release version of Panther since I landed in Rome earlier this week. And for anyone sitting on the fence or balking at forking out the $129 price I must say "get over it".
The new software (and remember this is pre-release) is faster, even more user friendly and overall exciting (at least as an operating system can be). Keep in mind, I'm a skeptic when it comes to operating system updates. But if the new version is any stabler (and Apple promises it will be) than the version I've been testing, we're all in for an adventure -- without the risks. More on Panther later.
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Within minutes of passing through the exit doors at Leonardo Da Vinci airport we were making our way to the city centre in the back of a Roman cab. Our cab driver, young, slightly nervous and exhibiting what I can only describe as some sort of strain of turrets's syndrome. Uncontrollably he'd make rapid and sequential nasal noises. Kind of disturbing while in the back seat of a cab driving 140 km/hour with barely 4 feet from the front of the cab to the Jaguar we were tailing. It's always amazed me about urban European drivers -- they just don't under stand the concept of a buffer zone. Well, maybe urban American's too.
The guy in the Jag rolled down his window and flicked a spent cigarette butt out the window. This enraged our cabbie. He drove faster and moved to within two feet of the rear bumper of the jag and honked his horn and started waving his hands. Ah. Forget vehicular safety. Let's talk litter.
After some idle conversation between us it happened. And I'm not talking about the standstill traffic we hit after about 10 minutes of driving. Rather, the emotion our driver exhibited as he brought the cab to a sudden stop.
"Mama mia!" he said with the expected and perfect inflection. Ah. I was confident now. We were definitely in Rome.
When he found out I was from California the first thing he mentioned was Arnold Schwarzenegger. Then he started making machine gun sounds from his mouth and took both hands off the wheel and mimed the classic position of operating a machine gun while blanketing a target with fire.
I told him I was a bit embarrassed about Schwarzenegger. The polls were probably just closing in California as I made my way into Rome. Sometime later he flipped on his Radio to listen to the Morning news. Of course, it was all Italian. But one word broke through the language barrier: Schwarzenegger. I guess big news here in Europe. Eyes of the world on Arnie. I mentioned to him that Californians were a bit crazy if Arnie actually made his way to Sacramento. In agreeing with me he wanted to make sure that I understood he liked Ronald Reagan; and that Arnie was no Ronald Reagan.
As we chatted his turrets's seemed to subside as the conversation turned casual, fun and playful. I knew we were of like minds when he explained that there were a lot of good restaurants near the hotel we were staying. When I enquired as for a suggestion he mentioned Macadanno's. As I repeated the name to make a mental note, I said Macadanno's. He said it again and started laughing. Yeah. Macadanno's. I quickly realized that he was referring to McDonald's. A perfect Italian wise guy.
As we pulled past the gates of Rome I asked him about the new stadium that was just built here. Looking into the rear view mirror at me in the backseat, he raised his eyebrows and said "Stadium?" I said yeah, you know. Didn't you guys just build a new Stadium here? He shrugged. And I said, yeah. I think you call it the Coliseum.
We all laughed as he pulled the car up to the front of the hotel. Welcome to Rome.
Photos: Italian beer at sunset by Roman Coliseum, Italian Taxi @ night, Ancient Roman Ruins.
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Thursday, October 9, 2003
The flight from Orange County to Newark was uneventful save the fact that I had barely two hours sleep the night before. Out of a restless sleep I popped up vertical like a jack in the box the second the obnoxious alarm pierced the silence of the room. On the plane the passenger sitting next to me, amazed at my ability to sleep the entire flight, says, "you did this flight right," I agreed. "They checked several times to see if you were breathing."
I hooked up with my friend Tim in Newark and we took an incredibly easy red eye flight landing in Rome at 7:30AM. I was amazed at how simple the customs procedure is in Rome. No papers to fill out, no questions at immigrations about the nature of my trip to Italy and a quick stamp on the passport and I'm in baggage claim. Gathering my bag I'm out the exit door and in the taxi line. No one checking my baggage or asking more questions. Nice.
Photo: Shot by Tim from a Boeing 777 as the sunset over New Hampshire enroute to Rome Tuesday night.
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We arrived after hanging with the Ciacci family. It was dark in Siena. The main Piazza empty. But the signature clock tower loomed high and proud above. The next day, the skies starting welling up and then cried. We walked the walled city of Siena and reminisced about the fight for control and struggle for power between the Sienese and the Florentines. We'll be in Florence soon. But here we'll tour the great country of Northern Tuscany known to the rest of the world as Chianti. 
That last thing you really want to read about is the food and wine Tim and I experienced in Tuscany. But perhaps you'd want a hot tip? You know, for your upcoming trip to Italy? There's no question you need to visit Montepulciano. And when in Montepulciano pull out all the stops and have perhaps the best dining experience in Tuscany at Ristorante La Grotta (San Biagio, Montepulciano. Tel: 0578 758354 Closed Wednesdays, and Jan-Feb.).
He's a sturdy and tall man with large hands. Tufts of grey hair flapped in the wind as he talked to us about his vineyards and the improvements and expansion he's made in the last two years to his cellar and winemaking facilities. Half of his shirt was untucked and peeking out from under his cream colored corduroy jacket, and while he looks a bit more like the farmer he's been for the last 15 years, his command of the English language and passion for the finer things in life revealed a bit of his past as a successful executive in the shipping business. 
Piero Palumucci along with his wife Elisabeth are proprietors of Fattoria Poggio di Sotto, a small farm and winery south of Montalcino overlooking the village of Castelnuovo dell'Abate. Poggio di Sotto consists of 12 hectares of vineyards and about 1,400 olive trees. Piero and Elisabeth produce about 2,000 cases of wine annually including Brunello di Montalcino, Rosso di Montalcino and Moscatto, a desert wine that he makes simply for his family and friends. Oh. And of course, he makes a grappa.
Perhaps the best part of Montalcino is where we're staying. In Italy, or at least Tuscany, there are a number of lodging options. From luxury hotels in the bigger villages or cities, to small boutique hotels, apartments (called cameres), rooms in private homes (called zimmers) or agriturismo (staying on private working farms or wineries in a farm). Of course, there are villas and more. In Montalcino we found a camere above a small wine shop directly adjacent to the giant Fortezza. Even better, the room is on the top floor of a 3 story building and features a large terrace where we can gaze across the vineyards and barren hills of the Commune di Montalcino, the rustic terracotta rooftops of the ancient Montalcino buildings and of course the Fortezza. 
For most people when they think of Italy and wine, images of Chianti wrapped in wicker bottles perhaps come to mind. Or maybe the simple but excellent Pinot Grigio. But if you're passionate about wine Italy conjures images of rolling Tuscan hills and the other great wine regions of Piedmont, Umbria, Lazio, Alto Adige and more. Perhaps the most famous wines come from Piedmont and Tuscany. So for this journey Tim and I decided on Tuscany - home of Chianti, Brunello, the so-called Super Tuscans and of course Vino Nobile di Montepulciano.
Match that with Chianini beef and you're on the way gastronomy heaven. The list goes on. Truffles too are in season as is wild boar. The local Sienese pasta (Pici) with any number of sauces utilizing fresh ingredients delight the palate. And no matter where you are in Italy, every day is a good day for gelato. Outstanding.
And I should note that the cantinas that approach winemaking seriously will use the best stemware, usually from Riedel or Spieglau, to present and taste their wines. 
Last night someone was rocking down the house at the U.S. Embassy in Rome. True story. As Tim and I rounded the corner and headed down the block toward our hotel we heard loud thumping music. Thinking maybe that Jackie O's was letting it out a bit more than usual we realized that the party was at the Embassy. In true Europe club fashion there was a long line outside the entrance to the embassy and the Polizi turned bouncers were holding the crowd at bay and screening those who by chance could jump the line. 
On the way to Tuscany we stopped into Orvieto, a small medieval town in Umbria. The highlight of this stop beyond the classic white wine of Orvieto is the Cathedral that graces the central plaza. Built in the 1300's features both Romanesque and Gothic influences. This is because it took so long to build and architects changed during the construction. But the real treat to the Duomo (cathedral) in Orvieto is its facade. Unfortunately more than half of this is covered in scaffolding as renovation is well under way. Oh well. Next time.
The streets of Rome are narrow, busy, noisy and fast. There are so many different modes of transportation that we never see in the United States. Much like any crowded metropolitan city, whether Europe, Asia or South America, the objective is to move fast to and from your destination no matter the danger. In Rome there are tens of thousands of scooters, mopeds and motorcycles. But clearly scooters take up the bulk of this two-wheeled population. Fortunately most Romans wear helmets, and unlike Southeast Asia, when male riders carry their female passengers the woman straddle the saddle rather than sit sideways with both feet dangling on one side. Or course this can be a challenge for an Italian lady traveling to dinner on a Friday night dressed to kill like one lady we saw with fishnet stockings kneww high boots and a tiny black slit skirt. The scooter was modern in its aerodynamic design, but it was the girl that was racy.
Within minutes of passing through the exit doors at Leonardo Da Vinci airport we were making our way to the city centre in the back of a Roman cab. Our cab driver, young, slightly nervous and exhibiting what I can only describe as some sort of strain of turrets's syndrome. Uncontrollably he'd make rapid and sequential nasal noises. Kind of disturbing while in the back seat of a cab driving 140 km/hour with barely 4 feet from the front of the cab to the Jaguar we were tailing. It's always amazed me about urban European drivers -- they just don't under stand the concept of a buffer zone. Well, maybe urban American's too.
After some idle conversation between us it happened. And I'm not talking about the standstill traffic we hit after about 10 minutes of driving. Rather, the emotion our driver exhibited as he brought the cab to a sudden stop.
I told him I was a bit embarrassed about Schwarzenegger. The polls were probably just closing in California as I made my way into Rome. Sometime later he flipped on his Radio to listen to the Morning news. Of course, it was all Italian. But one word broke through the language barrier: Schwarzenegger. I guess big news here in Europe. Eyes of the world on Arnie. I mentioned to him that Californians were a bit crazy if Arnie actually made his way to Sacramento. In agreeing with me he wanted to make sure that I understood he liked Ronald Reagan; and that Arnie was no Ronald Reagan. 
The flight from Orange County to Newark was uneventful save the fact that I had barely two hours sleep the night before. Out of a restless sleep I popped up vertical like a jack in the box the second the obnoxious alarm pierced the silence of the room. On the plane the passenger sitting next to me, amazed at my ability to sleep the entire flight, says, "you did this flight right," I agreed. "They checked several times to see if you were breathing."