After all the hideous walking and such of the morning tour, it was high time to be taking 'er easy. What better way to accomplish that than to head to a winery?
We traveled to the Castello di Verrazzano, a vineyard that has been in the Verrazzano family for generations. It is a beautiful area, and they have groves of olive trees as well as well as the endless fields of grapes.
And to top it off, they also raise wild boars. (Question: if you are raising them domestically, can they really still be considered wild boars? Hmm.) We were directed not to try to get near them, unless we prefer to spend the rest of our lives waving with a stub.
Our guide was named Jillian, and she was a lot of fun. She had this great British accent, made even more entertaining by the fact that she was already half in the bag. She was very patient and good-natured, even when being interrupted by the doucheketeers in the crowd who thought they were comedians. She did, however, threaten to feed any tardy tour members to the wild boars. Perhaps that is why they all looked so excited to see us - feeding time!
Jillian explained to us that because of all the weird bureaucracy in Italy, they are very strict about what grapes can be used for each wine, and no chemical sulfides can be used. In addition, no pesticides or herbicides are allowed. I had been worried about drinking the wine, since it normally makes me really sick within minutes. But this wine didn't bother me at all, so I suspect it has been the sulfides that always leave me praying to the porcelain god.
Nick (?) was our host for the evening meal. It was plain to see we were not his first guests of the day. He was doing good to stay upright as he explained each course to us. He clearly knew his wines quite well, as well as his bawdy toasts to go along with them. But he seemed quite thrilled to be serving us, and for a moment, I thought maybe I would have a new stepdaddy. Alas, it was not to be - he was a slave to the mistress in his arms.
Italian meals are made up of several courses over the span of a couple hours. What would we Americans do with all that extra time after we inhale our food? In fact, I think it was the only time when our tour was forced to stop and take a breath. I can't say I'm a fan of the cured meats. They are all super fatty and have a strong aftertaste. I know, you prosciutto lovers will tell me I'm out of my mind and that it's the way it's supposed to taste. That's fantastic. You can eat it all you want. I'll just be over here gnawing on the tongue of my shoe.I think we've been spoiled by our Americanized Italian food, though. I had this expectation of wonderful soft garlic bread and rivers of pasta overflowing with toppings. Darn you, Olive Garden! Instead, the bread is rock hard and you are given olive oil to drizzle over it, which doesn't exactly soggy it up any. Fabulous. I guess the bread that breaks off and sticks in my bridge can be saved for later. I could be wrong, but I'm pretty sure our bread had been on the table since the last party. Is that a tooth in the side of that roll?
The pasta, on the other hand, was 100 times better than anything that's ever come out of my kitchen. While they don't drown everything in sauce like we do, it's all fresh and they put a spice mixture on the top that was extraordinary. Joygasm! I finally found a place that sold the spices for an outrageous price and I brought 'em on home with me. The cheeses were strong, but one in particular, when covered in balsamic vinegar, tasted like strawberries. Sure, I'm certain my arteries were hardening as we ate, but what better way to die than with my mouth stuffed with food? If it's good enough for Mama Cass, who am I to complain?
And then, they brought out the wild boar. Just for the record, they were adorable creatures when we saw them earlier in the tour. But they looked even better on a plate drizzled with gravy. That'll teach ya to squeal at me, piggie. I hadn't eaten boar before, but it really was outstanding. And who knew there was a wine to go with wild boar? For the record, I'm pretty sure ours wasn't this aged.
At the end of the meal, they brought out almond biscotti that we were to soak in a dessert wine and eat. The combo seemed a little odd, but I gave it a try and it was wonderful. I don't generally mix my booze and cookies, but after this experience it's amazing to me that we didn't all come home 300 lb. alcoholics. Maybe it works with other combinations? Pass the Oreos and Crown.
Paralegal Barbie and I were seated at a table with the travel agents who had arranged everything. They had actually planned the tours for something like fifteen countries, so they got to go everywhere and check out the sites and features they might want to include. How do I get that job? The agent's wife was asked if she wanted to hold a baby panda when they were in China. Thinking it would be like a small teddy bear, she agreed wholeheartedly. But when she sat down, they brought out a 180 lb. "baby" and plopped him in her lap. I imagine there's nothing like being eye-to-eye with a panda that's bigger than you. Very cool.
Her husband looked like a mildly retarded Boss Hogg, and pretty much the last person I would have expected to have any desire to travel the world in his multi-colored suspenders and high-water pants. But that whole cover-not-representative-of-the-book thing certainly applied here. He was hilarious, and it turned out he and his brother had lived in Peru while single 40 years ago, and their stories kept us entertained all night.
I'd have to say that this night was probably my favorite of the entire trip. It was our first chance to get out of the hustle and bustle of the city, and actually see Italy the way we envisioned. And while you regulars know I'm not exactly the type to get giddy over the sunset, drinking wine on a balcony overlooking a vineyard in Italy as the sun goes down is not a bad way to spend an evening. Being surrounded by slightly tipsy, equally enthralled friends? That was just a bonus.
0 comments:
Post a Comment