Vignamaggio

Vignamaggio was everyone's favorite place, hands-down.  Our eyes nearly popped out of their sockets when we pulled up to the villa.  Having gotten to know each other a little better after three days into the tour, we felt free to take peeks into each other's rooms, exclaiming at the different details: views from windows, linens, stationery, ceramics, etc.  Mine and D's room was more like an apartment -- complete with master bedroom, living room, two small lofts with single beds, and a higher "observation deck" with a small ottoman -- presumably, to look out over the amazing view.

The first evening (of three) there, we went on a tour of the on-site winery.  Our guide told us the history of Vignamaggio, which was originally owned by the familyof a guy who married a nearby villa owner's daughter and later commissioned Leonardo da Vinci to paint her portrait: the Mona Lisa.  Back in the 90s, Vignamaggio was the filming site of "Much Ado About Nothing," with Kenneth Branaugh and Emma Thompson; if you haven't seen it, you should!  It's one of my favorites.

The kitchen was downstairs, so each morning I awoke to the smell of freshly baked bread.  I had fresh cappuccinos along with meats and fruits and fruit juices.  We also had a terrific dinner there; I can still taste the lemon mashed potatoes.  On the last afternoon we had a traditional Tuscan cooking class.  If we didn't have all those other wineries to visit, I'm sure we all would have been quite happy to stay at Vignamaggio the entire three days.

   

   

 

   

   

What a truly special, magical space. Beautiful grounds. Wine in every room and corridor.  Two pools. History with the Mona Lisa.  Filming venue for a great movie.  In short: a great story, a great stay. 

This is definitely on the short list for the 5-year plan to spend a month in Italy with the gals.

Remembering Renzo

Renzo Marinai is a veterinarian by education and training, but is now a wine maker. We visited his beautiful grounds in Tuscany's Conca d'Oro (Golden Shell), where he and his dog led us on a tour and tasting.

What's cool about Renzo's small operation is his "back to basics" approach. (Instead of creating separate grape and olive fields) He plants olive trees among the vineyards -- and wheat, too. He believes living together helps their immune systems as well as the soil. Of course, in addition to the wine from grapes, he makes oil from the olives, and pasta -- and perfume -- from the wheat.

I bought a bottle of the perfume, Vita, for myself. It smells heavenly: clean, fresh, Tuscan. It was a bit of a risk, considering I haven't worn perfume for years now on account of allergies.  But the risk paid off: no rashes.  So I get to be reminded a bit of Italy now and again.

But you really want to know about the wine, right?  Panzano, where Renzo lives, is in Tuscany.  Which means the wine is Chianti.  As most wine makers do, he ferments in stainless steel and ages in oak.  But his wine ages to the sound of Mozart.  According to Renzo, the candence of the composition is reverberated by the wood, enhancing the aging process.  I especially liked the Chianti Classico Riserva. And he also poured some of his Kadar for us to try -- a special treat because there are only 290 bottles of the stuff!

   

This was one of the more memorable winery tours.  It's one of the smaller wineries in the region, but is very unique in terms of philosophy and product line.  And the tour was by the proprieter himself -- who, for someone of my parents' generation, is a pretty spiffy dresser!

It's been over two months since the trip, and although I have tons of photos and can probably write an individual post on each of the vineyards we visited, I'll abbreviate the process by sharing a list of the others we visited:

• Villa Le Corti


• Fontodi


• Castello Romitorio


• Castello Banfi


• Plus, Frantoio Fraci for olive oil tasting

One last and special post to go, and I can say, "Ciao, Italia!" for now.

 

Artsy Autumn: Uffizi

We had a choice between a pasta-making workshop or tour of the Uffizi. Most people opted to cook. But I chose art.

On the walk to the Ufizzi we came across a medieval parade.  Turns out it was the feast day of Saint Reparata, the patron saint of Florence.  The cathedral was segmented off, bands played.  But we couldn't stay to watch.  Off to the museum!

Our "docent" was actually the head of the Art History department at the Florence University of the Arts, which is a part of the Palazzi school that handled most of the Florence segment of our tour. She was really friendly and knowledgable, asking each of us what we know about art so she could determine what story to tell for every piece of art.  It brought back a lot of memories of the first class I took in Art History, when I studied abroad in the U.K, and the wonder of going from slideshows (on carousels, not even PPT!) to the real thing.

I've already mentioned how I feel about taking pictures of paintings, so I purposely don't have the Fra Angelicos and Boticellis to share (you've got to go to Florence yourself!). Instead I've got one of my best photos of the trip; it's a view of the Ponte Vecchio from the second story of the Uffizi, and yes, it's Instagram:

Marsha commented that she'd seen the same view 20 or so years ago, and it hasn't changed -- which makes sense, because it looks the same as when I saw it over a dozen years ago, too. 

It was another morning of walking along cobbled streets and through long galleries of art, competing with other (larger) tour groups.  My feet weren't doing so well, but a four-course lunch was upon us, which meant I could slip off my shoes under the table for a good while. So: totally worth it.

Savignola

This was another memorable wine tour and meal. Our trip organizer rented from this elderly couple, Carlo and Valeria, when he was on sabbatical in Italy, so it was a homecoming for him.  We made a 10-minute trek from where we were staying, through a vineyard, to get there.  It felt very homey. Walking out to greet us as we arrived, Carlo held up two hiking poles, saying to our leader, "You left these here from five years ago! Storage fees are very expensive here in Italy!" It was the beginning of a delightful afternoon.

   

   

    

Carlo and Valeria hosted a home-cooked meal of pate and jelly with crackers and homemade bacon ciabatta, lasagna, salad, veggies, and a lovely dessert spread.  All the while, Carlo poured his own wine for us, cracking jokes the entire time.  We ate out on their terrace, which has an extremely pleasant view of the typical Tuscan vineyards and olive groves. 

Afterwards, their daughter, Ludo -- Philosophy Ph.D. turned 5th-generation winemaker -- gave us a tour of their operation.  You can read more about their story here.  We picked up a few bottles for our BYO dinner later that evening (at Solociccia). And a few of us made away with some bottles of jam and pepper jelly, handmade by Valeria, with lid coverings crocheted by Ludo's mother-in-law.  (Sadly, my marmalade was confiscated by the French as having, "beaucoup de liquide."  I'm still sad about it.)

We were sad to leave, but there was another tasting to attend!  Mille grazie for a wonderful visit and meal!

Artsy Autumn: Florence Architectural Walking Tour

You know that saying about not breaking in new shoes while traveling? I was stubborn. I thought my feet impervious to new leather. Then I opted for the architectural walking tour and walked all over Florence -- on cobbled streets, no less (beautiful to look at, painful to walk on).

First off, mad props to our tour guide, a chic Italian young lady named Alfreida who was an Art History student.  I loved her accent and the way she spoke of the city and the sights and their creators with such love and admiration and understanding, claiming these places and people not simply as names or pieces to be memorized for a course of study, but as part of her history, her identity, her very self.  It's always so rewarding to witness a person in their element, exuding their passion. 

A day of spotty rain made the smell of leather all but permeate the city.  It was a nice, organic smell as we walked by the San Lorenzo central market and across long rows of stalls selling belts, wallets, purses, and more.  The cathedral itself is quite old; I snapped a neat shot of colorful bikes leaning against bricks that are hundreds of years old.  We walked onwards towards the Dome and Cathedral, stopping to look at Giotto's reliefs of Bible stories on the Baptistery doors.  Then to the Palazzio Vecchio, which is now City Hall. Past the old Palazzo di Medici, all the way up to the Piazzale  Michelangelo, where you find that sweeping, panoramic view of the entire city.  I waited patiently for the clouds to move so I could get a picture of the sun shining on the Dome.

    

    

    

Walked back to city center to meet the rest of the tour group, who had opted for the cooking class.  We were met with heaping plates of bruschetta, risotto, a braised pork.  And wine.  (Yes, for lunch--we were on vacation!)  I promptly sat down and slipped my shoes off, giving my poor, swollen feet a bit of respite.  By the end of the trip the shoes were worn in.  It was worth it, but I won't be repeating that on my next trip.

[doorknobs]

Speaking of architectural details: throughout the trip I took pictures of some doorknobs as I walked by residences, businesses, and other spaces.  My travel mates began making fun of me for taking "strange" shots, but I trusted my vision.  It came together quite nicely, if I do say so myself!  I have one of doors and windows, too, which came together by chance.  Thank you, Picasa, for making it fun and easy to create collages!

Solociccia

It took me about five years to read Heat in its entirety: JY lent t to me while in culinary school, and I retuned it a few months ago--3 years after his return! Yikes. Though the time it took me to read belies the fact, I really enjoyed the book. Not being a cook or "foodie" by any stretch of the imagination, I nevertheless appreciated the insight into kitchen hierarchy and Buford's humorous, self-deprecating tone.

The things I read about in Heat seemed so far off that I didn't make the connection between the names of places in the book to the names of places on my Italy itinerary until we were there and chatting with Dr. Bob, the trip organizer, on the first night in Florence. Turns out we were going to Panzano, and going to eat at Dario's restaurant. Whoa!

We had some time to stroll around the town before dinner so many of us visited Dario's butcher shop. It was wild: wine for everyone, which Dario himself poured from a large bottle in one hand to a stack of glasses held in his other hand. One side of his shop is more like a buffet: a spread of fresh bread and Chianti butter, various meats, peppers and jellies for sale, and an iron cow, divided into cuts. Through the window in the refrigerator door were visible huge hanging cuts of beef. On a cutting board in front of his meat counter was a cutting board on which stood an herb-stuffed roast and pepper jelly. Dario was both entertaining and serving customers; it was wild.

[cheers in the butcher shop]

[rosemary + bread]

[Dario's spread]

[stuffed meat + pepper jelly]

[got beef?]

The scene was no less calm at his restaurant, Solociccia ("Only Meat").  D and I (late for having strolled around the town a bit more) were separated from our group by the ginormous butcher block that held the night's portion of meat for the entire restaurant, about 50 people. We sat with a young Italian couple, celebrating thee second anniversary (her English was really good; turns out she's studied for a while at UCLA); a couple of gals from Belgium; and some Canadians and Americans further down the table. Turns out some of the staff was international, too, having corme to apprentice with a master (as had Buford). By the end of the night the grappa was free flowing and everyone was friends.

[beef sushi]

[only meat]

[medium rare]

My favorite was the first course, a tartar described as, "beef sushi." I'd never eaten raw beef before and was a bit wary, but it was infused with herbs and olive oil and was surprisingly delicious. The Chianti butter--lard with salt, pepper, garlic, and rosemary--was served alongside baked potatoes instead of spread on bread as in the butcher shop, and was infinitely more enjoyable when melted in the warm potato flesh. To top it off we had olive oil bread and espresso (I didn't touch the grappa).

It was a pretty awesome meal. I enjoyed the showmanship of the experience and the great taste of all that meat. But I've been back three weeks and still haven't had any beef.

Packed

I'm packed and ready to head to Italy! Here's what I have for nine days and nights:



In the backpack (above):

• Peep toe platforms


• Flip flops


• B&W striped calf length leggings


• Black leggings


• Lacy foot socks, 3 pr


• Bathing suit


• Goggles


• Black capris (channeling Ms. Hepburn)


• Gold high-waisted pants


• LT grey khaki cutofffs


• Long sleeve denim snap shirt


• Tan merino cardigan


• Travel skirt (can pull up to strapless dress)


• Grey cotton dress (pajamas that can double as an outfit w/ leggings)


• Tanks, white, yellow & white, magenta


• Camisoles, navy, white


• Sheer hexagon print top


• Sheer metallic ribbon top


• Brown cotton ruffle lace t shirt


• Floral print t shirt


• Ribbon hat


• Pink handknit shawl


• Leopard print neck scarf


• Cosmetics


• Toiletries

 

Worn:

• Black cashmere sweater


• Dark wash jeans


• Foot socks


• White blazer


• Loafers

Purse (above):

• Wallet


• Passport


• Phone


• Earphones


• Adapter


• Charging cord


• Travel wetnaps


• DSLR camera


• Scarf-cum-camera wrap


• Glasses


• Sunglasses


• Eye patch


• Ear plugs


• Umbrella (rain forecasted!)


• Handkerchiefs, 2


• Moleskine


• Lip balm


• Eco bag

Tucked in a linen napkin and tenugui after reading an email, from the trip coordinator, warning that Italian hotels tend not to provide washcloths.

We'll see how well I did as the trip goes. Weather us supposed to be like So Cal, in which case I am quite confident. Off I go--ciao!

Hiccups and heavy hearts

Jamaica was tons of fun, but truth be told, there was a bit if not-so-niceness. I'd taken extra care to load up on sunblock and anti-bug spray, but my super (hyper?!) sensitive skin still got the best of me.  I went into the hotel's saltwater pool a couple of times, but stayed out of the ocean and out of the sun as much as possible.  The one day I spent entirely in shade, I still managed to get sunburn!  Blame it on the reflection off the water?

I got better before we left, but missed out on swimming in the ocean, which the gals did with the bride on the morning of the wedding.  I documented and relaxed on the private patio of the bride's room villa.  Not too shabby.

Although I had a great time with my gals, my thoughts did stray to DC every now and then.  How could they not?  This couple's engagement party was one of the last times DC and I hung out, and theirs was the first wedding I attended since our breakup.  Also, during the bride's mother's speech, I couldn't help but think that my mom would never have that opportunity; I will never know what she would have said to me on my wedding day.  So I cried a bit. And had a couple of drinks.

Reader, this disclosure is not meant to elicit pity!  There was rum, aye, there was. And dancing.  And good friends.  And new friends.  Which all equals a safe, uninhibited environment.  To be sad, yes, a little.  But above and beyond that, to be happy, to be in the moment. (Yes, I am happy, chatty, dancy when tipsy--quite a sight, I am told.)

I am learning that in the midst of mourning, there can be joy: much of life is a commingling of the two, and not just living in the extremes.  I will not be overcome by sadness, but choose to allow and choose to bask in the rays of light that shine into my life.

Thanks, C&B, for choosing to get married in Jamaica, where I got to see some more of your hearts, and have a great vacation to boot!  Thanks for putting that picture of all of us at karaoke in your wedding video!  Thanks, YPY, for encouraging me to travel, and for taking care of all the arrangements and being my soldier.  Thanks, MPN, for introducing me to the drunken coconut.  And thanks, Vinroy the Bartender, for scolding me when I thought I couldn't handle all the rum you poured into it: "You're on vacation, right mon?" "Um, yes." "Then you can handle it, mon."

All good, mon.