Garantito IGP: San Silvestro

 

This time I take the stand.

In 1984 I spent a couple of weeks on a Paleolithic dig in Gavorrano, one of the towns in the Val di Cornia; the work consisted of digging trenches in an area that was destined to become a road and sifting the dirt in search of man-made flint chips and such. Which we found in abundance, though no other traces of humanity had survived in that particular spot.

But one day we piled into our van and rattled over to the Valle dei Manienti, where Riccardo Francovich, an archaeologist with the University of Siena, and his students were peeling back a huge briar patch that had overgrown a hilltop; we could see crumbling walls in the areas they had already cleared and were told we were looking at the remains of a medieval mining town called San Silvestro. By the time the team finished clearing they had found a tower at the top of the hill, with immediately below it a cistern, a courtyard, and a tiny church, and about 50 houses below, within the town walls.

Some background is in order: The hills inland of Populonia, a promontory on the central Tuscan coast, are called the Colline Metallifere - the Metalliferous Hills. The area is a mineralogist's paradise, and if you're driving along you will see many spectacular splashes of colors on the hillsides, where ore veins come to the surface.

In the past people did more than appreciate the beauty of these deposits: The region is honeycombed with mines, some dating back to the Etruscans. The veins of the Valle dei Manienti (directly inland of the town of San Vincenzo) were instead worked during the early Middle ages by the Conti della Gherardesca, who extracted silver-bearing lead, copper and iron. The miners needed somewhere to live, and since they were providing a valuable service to their lords, the Counts built them a fortified town. San Silvestro flourished for about 300 years before changing economic conditions made the operation uneconomical, and then it was abandoned.

San Slivestro is now the centerpiece of a fascinating archeominarary park with hiking trails, mine shafts you can visit (with a guide), and traces of all sorts of mining ventures, dating from the Etruscans through the post-war period. It's a perfect change of pace if you're spending a few days at the beach, especially if the wind kicks up, stirring the waves, and the lifeguards won't let you in the water because of the undertow.

You should park in the Valle del Temperino, and begin with the museum, which has a nice mineral collection, with some beautiful specimens from the various mines, and exhibits devoted to miners and mining. Guided tours of one of the mine shafts sunk at the turn of the century by the Etruscan Copper Estates Mines (an English company that worked the veins from 1900 to 1907 and then went out of business) depart hourly on the half hour in June, and on the half hour in July and August. They require covered shoes, and since the air is chill, a sweater.

The shaft leads through country rock to skarn deposits (mixed sulfides, including silver bearing galena (lead sulfide), chalcopyrite (copper iron sulfide), sphalerite (zinc sulfide) and in some cases cassiterite (tin oxide)) that formed as a result of the interaction between intruding magmas and the mineral-rich solutions they contained with the calcareous rocks they intruded -- quite interesting, and the shaft intersects a number of older shafts as well that reveal the older mining techniques.

Once you have seen the mine shaft, it's a short walk to the Museo del Minatore, or Miner's museum, with interesting displays of equipment. The departure point of the narrow-guage rail line that follows one of the longer shafts through the mountain to the Valle Lanzi (named after the Tyrolian miners Archduke Cosimo summoned and quartered there in the 1500s) and the town of San Silvestro is next to the Museo; it's an interesting ride. If you'd instead rather say above ground, it's a three-hour hike on a well marked trail with rest stops and lots of things to see, everything from powder houses and another section of the narrow guage rail line built by the English company to pre-Roman shafts and pits.

San Silvestro itself is quite beautiful, and even though only the walls remain enough has survived to give you a good idea of what life must have been like: The boredom of the guards, who scratched the patterns of board games into the steps by the gate; the constant need for water, which led the inhabitants to chip grooves into the bedrock to guide rainwater to cisterns....

Though the park wardens give guided tours (on the hour in June, and on the half-hour in July and August), you may want to explore the village at your own pace. It should take about an hour, and once you're done, you should also look at the experimental station, where the archaeologists reconstructed the smelting furnaces to find out how efficient they were. Quite, and indeed the village was completely self-sufficient with regards to iron. Copper was also refined on site. Silver was not, however: It occurs in galena, lead sulfide, and the Counts Gherardesca found it more practical to smelt the mineral into lead, and then extract the silver from the lead once they'd transported it to Pisa (bandits were a problem, and lead ingots are a lot harder to steal than flakes of silver). Even so, the skeletons of a couple of people dead of ax wounds were found in the slag heaps by the foundry; they differed physically from the people whose bones were found in the cemetery, and may have been thieves, or even pirates.

Getting there: Campiglia Marittima is close to the coast. Take the Aurelia, the Roman road to Marseilles (it's at last four lanes), to San Vincenzo Sud; follow the signs for Campiglia Marittima, and then those for the Parco Archeominerario. It's about 10 kilometers.

For more information (quite a bit more), check out the Parco Archeominerario di San Silvestro's site.  The hours change depending upon the month (though opening is almost always at 10 AM), and you should therefore check the hours page. There's also a simple trattoria, if you get hungry.


Published Simultaneously by IGP, I Giovani Promettenti.

We Are:
Carlo Macchi
Kyle Phillips
Luciano Pignataro
Roberto Giuliani
Stefano Tesi

Garantito IGP: Occitanian Chersogno to the last bite

This time Stefano Tesi takes the stand.

At the last farm in Chersogno, the altimeter on my wrist says 1997 meters. There are another thousand to the peak.

Above me are fog, rocks, and a pale trail. Below, the tattered roofs of the town of Campiglione, where a "For Sale" sign hangs over the ancient houses that look like tenements of the sort whose facades have a single open balcony per floor, though made with local materials: stone and wood. Everything crumbling or almost. And beyond, Lilliputian incredibly distant white cows working their way up the steep flank of the mountain, grazing a huge yellow meadow that opens to the sky well above the tree line.

I look down with astonishment to the dirt road leading down into the valley, which becomes steadily greener at lower altitudes.

This isn't just any valley. It's the Valle di San Michele, a branch of the Val Maira, in the Alpe Cozie. Occitania. No pass at the end of the climb leading to France; rather a closed gorge and a strange feeling. Lots of tiny hamlets spread about, lots of summer homes, sometimes displaying a casual use of cement. The residents who by now number dozens -- fewer than a hundred. More than money, the place seems to lack souls. In the winter, at least. In the summer the Swiss and Germans come, looking for quiet walks, and things liven up.

But now it's October, and on Chersogno, in Campiglione, the Landro family is about to pack to head down to the valley for the winter. Today, they say, they're leading their animals downslope, and won't be back until spring. Sticking around is out of the question: bad weather, cold, snow, and most of all, nothing to do.

In short, when the summer finishes so do the stays of the cattle and the herdspeople who stay on the slopes. Because Chersogno isn't just the name of the mountain, but also of the cheese the Landro family makes up in the meadows. People say it's like a Castelmagno, only sometimes better. They're the only ones who make it, and because of this haven't bothered to register it.

In any case, when we get to their shop, following traisl closed by the forest rangers, the shop is closed too. Because they're getting the animals ready for the trop, and they've also finished all their cheese.

We descend the winding trail, rocks and srubs giving way to meadows and pines, regain the paved road, and reach San Michele di Prazzo: it makes one think to discover that here, in the 18th century, there were 2,000 people. The façade of the old town hall has a solemn image of King Vittorio Emanuele II, and facing it a church whose size provides proof of the importance of the town. Two hikers with boots and packs look at us: who is the intruder?

For the past ten years Enrica and Roberta Cesano have managed the Tano di Grich, an old-fashioned inn under the porticoes where people eat, sleep and buy food. And, miracle of miracles, they have a whole wheel of Chersogno. The last of the season, they say. 3 kilos (about 6 pounds), 100% cow's milk, 20 euros a kilo: It's ours!

The rind is grainy, but on cutting turns out to be thin, dry, and soft. The body of the cheese is white tending towards pale yellow, and grainy, tender, holding together but not compact, rather friable. A distinctly milky aroma is barely sharpened by aging, but is still penetratingly fresh. On the palate it's deft, surprisingly soft, and soon dissolves into a delicate flavor that combines milk with more intense saltiness, and flows into bitter notes that are especially good. With chewing its initial dryness quickly gves way to a temptingly creamy, beckoning consistency.

Indeed, we put a serious dent into it, washing it down with both a delightful Dolcetto di Dogliani Clavesana DOC 2011 and a more refined but just as enjoyable Barolo Cerretta 2007 from Giovanni Rosso. And the only thing that kept us from continuing was a jolt of common sense.

Better make it last, because there'll be no more Chersogno until June.


Azienda Agricola Landro,
Borgata Campiglione 1, Prazzo (CN)
Tel. 349 2953659



Published Simultaneously by IGP, I Giovani Promettenti.

We Are:
Carlo Macchi
Kyle Phillips
Luciano Pignataro
Roberto Giuliani
Stefano Tesi

Garantito IGP: Forastera 2011 Ischia doc Pietratorcia

This time Luciano Pignataro takes the stand

One can tell from the very word, Forastera. Grapes that come from elsewhere (fuori, in Italian), i.e. forestiera. Certainly, of one were to take a broader, say American viewpoint, it would be difficult to say grapes that have been grown on terraces held up by paramine, dry masonry walls made from green volcanic rock, for more than 150 years are foreign, but Europeans are conservative. This white was introduced because, history repeats itself, it was considered superior to the delicate Biancolella that has always been grown on Ischia, Capri, and part of the Amalfi coast.

The current obsession for single-varietal wines led to its rediscovery, not as a partner, but as a soloist. The discovery was made by Casa D'Ambra a few years ago, and now Pietratorcia, the beautiful winery surrounded by olive trees, prickly pears, and Mediterranean scrub forest founded in 1966 by the Iacono, Verde e Regine families, has joined them.

Every time I visit these vineyards, surrounded by sea and sky, I feel as if I'm in an as-of-yet unexcavated archaeological site: columns, statues and pot shards stick up from the soil; the culture of the farmland that for centuries slaked Naples's thirst is very evident. There were 3,000 hectares of vineyards in 1900, and now less than 400.
Forastera interprets the Campania Style that almost all the winemakers have by now adopted: Freshness up front, savory, no sweetness. They complement the foods, the flavors, and the volcanic lands or the area that are in perpetual ferment, making the island and the nearby Campi Flegrei the perfect setting for disaster films that couldn't do a better job of bringing together day-to-day life and Hephaestus 's brutal power.
Pietratorcia's history is that of the recovery from a shadowy subculture of illegal construction and easy earnings from tourism that sapped people's will to cultivate the land, and drove them away from toil, the southern term for work. They could have fermented other people's grapes, but they decided to start from the ground up, replanting grapes at Chignole and Cuotto, while Gino studied winemaking at San Michele all'Adige.

Now the winery's primary wines are two blends, Tenuta Chignole (biancolella, forastera and fiano) and Tenuta Cuotto (biancolella, forastera e greco), in which the two foreign grapes of Irpinian origin confer, in the former, aromas, and in the latter acidity. Then there are the two single-varietal wines, Biancolella and Forastera. I decided to speak of the latter here because I want this varietal, unknown outside Campania, to enjoy the Garantito IGP limelight because it embodies biodiversity, essentiality, and elegance, and also has an extraordinary quality/price ratio.

A white wine of conviviality, to pair with the simple seafood cooking of the island, raw fish and fish carpaccio marinated in lemon juice, or pasta with legumes, especially peas and chick peas.

The winery is on the Via Provinciale Panza, 267
Tel.081.908206
www.pietratorcia.it
12 hectares.
Winemaker: Gino Iacono. 
Production: 180.000 bottles
Varietals: biancolella, forastera and fiano


Published Simultaneously by IGP, I Giovani Promettenti.

We Are:
Carlo Macchi
Kyle Phillips
Luciano Pignataro
Roberto Giuliani
Stefano Tesi

Garantito IGP: A Restaurant in Bloom? il Giglio in Montalcino!

This time Carlo Macchi Takes the Stand:

Let's say that the reader remembers La Cucina di Edgardo in Montalcino, and has the good fortune to meet Mario Machetti. Those who have done both can stop reading. I suggest everyone else perk up their ears.
In the 80s La Cucina di edgardo was one of the best places to eat in Tuscany. Edgardo was unique, and to give an example it was he who came up with the Gioco del piacere that so many members then of Arcigola and now Slowfood know well. But who cooked for Edgardo? We're coming to that.

Let's turn to Mario Machetti: not young, but blessed with a first-rate sense of wine, Mario had the best private cellar in Montalcino. I say had because in 1995 his private cellar became public, and is at the disposition of the patrons of Il Giglio. The same patrons, who in addition to selecting among wines they can usually only dream of (at "private cellar" prices) can enjoy the dishes Anna Machetti, who cooked for Edgardo, prepares for them.

To sum up: Anna cooked at La Cucina di Edgardo, while Mario loved wines, and, let's admit it, talking about wine. In 1995 they took the big step, taking over one of the oldest places in Montalcino, Il Giglio. There are records of Il Giglio dating th the early 1900s, but in the early 90s the then let things go. Anna and Mario managed the return the restaurant (which also has 12 rooms) to its former glory thanks to a cuisine based on first rate ingredients, flavorful dishes that one simply doesn't forget, and dishes that follow tradition while winking at modern balance.

Now forget all this (lest you loose the joy of making discoveries...) and imagine yourself in Montalcino, say near Palazzo Pretorio (the one with the plaques for the Brunello vintages). It's just a few short steps the the intersection where you'll find Il Giglio. The entrance leads to a small, welcoming hall with a large fireplace almost hidden by historic wine bottles. The tables, elegantly set, are to the right or in another hall to the left. I suggest you sit near a window to be able to enjoy the panorama, so beautiful it might steal your appetite as well as your breath.

You'll need your eyes for more important things, however, for example the menu. You could begin with the classic dark Tuscan crostini, or the baccalà mousse with orange salad, or the involtini made from Cinta Senese lard and faro, but I suggest you try the anchovy filets in pesto sauce, so good they'd justify swimming from Sydney to Montalcino.

Among the first courses, I'd say Pici with crumbs, cannelloni stuffed with goat's milk cheese and sauced with pigeon ragu, and tortellini stuffed with cints cenese arista. But I can't forget the faro, chickpea and mushroom zuppa, nor the classic home made tagliatelle with porcini mushrooms.

Among the seconds, don't miss the pan-cooked pigeon, or the fried rabbit, unless you go for beef braised in Brunello or lamb chops.

And then? A pause, because I imagine you full but satisfied. And at this point I'll step in for Mario, who with his son Michele is the Maitre, and perhaps exchange a few words, which may be about wines and a visit to the cellar. A cellar 9and a wine list) capable of satisfying any request, even the most unusual, when it comes to Brunello, and also features other great non-standard Italian and foreign bottles. A list by a wine lover, one who has traveled the world to taste and learn, and to enjoy the happiness of the clientele. And after the conversation, we can finish the meal. If you're like me, not a sweet tooth, the obvious choice is a selection of first rate Tuscan goat and sheep's milk cheeses. I realize many people have sweet teeth, and therefore suggest pears in Brunello, chocolate cake, or peach Bavarian cream.

You'll have a hard time getting up, not because you're weighed down, but rather because you'll want to continue to enjoy the warm hospitality, Mario's words, and perhaps Anna's smiles, as she always steps into the hall towards the end of the evening.

A brief walk in the quiet Montalcino "By Night" (the restaurant is open only evenings), will be just the thing before returning to the Giglio and climbing the stairs to one of the 12 rooms. You'll fall asleep thinking that come breakfast you'll fins Anna's cakes, and have the sweetest of dreams.

Albergo Ristorante Il Giglio
Via Saloni 5
53024 Montalcino (SI)
Tel.fax 0577848167
www.gigliohotel.com

Average price 35-40 euro, not including wines


Published Simultaneously by IGP, I Giovani Promettenti.

We Are:
Carlo Macchi
Kyle Phillips
Luciano Pignataro
Roberto Giuliani
Stefano Tesi

Garantito IGP: The Mossio Brothers and the Great Dolcetti if Rodello

This time Roberto Giuliani takes the stand:

After dedicating many Guaranteed notes to more or less renowned restaurants, I feel the need to return to the world of wine. Primarily because I'm interested in two brothers, though it would be more correct to say in the entire Mossio dynasty, which has given the Dolcetto of the Langhe shine for generations, producing superb wines from a varietal that few really understand yet. I met Valerio seven years ago at Dolcetto & Dolcetto, but hadn't seen him since, nor had I had occasion to taste other vintages of either Dolcetto D'Alba Bricco Caramelli or Dolcetto D'Alba Passo delli Perdoni (they also make a Barbera d'Alba and an impressive Langhe Nebbiolo). I wanted to rectify this oversight and finally managed to go visit them in Rodello, where I had the unexpected pleasure of a vertical of Dolcetto D'Alba Bricco Caramelli, from 2010 to 2005, six vintages to understand the quality and potential of this historic Piemontese varietal.

The first thing one notes upon arriving at the winery is Bricco Caramelli, which is the highest land in the area, almost 500 meters, always well ventilated, and offers a breathtaking view all the way to Alba. The rows are evenly laid out, with wooden support steaks, while the vines are trained to the guyot system, and grow on a soil consisting of silt, sand, and clay; I visited in the second week of May and the shoots were working their way up to the support wires. There's nice ground cover, which requires the Mossio brothers to manage the vineyard in an eco-compatible way, and the area they have under vine is 10 hectares (28 giornate piemontesi), which yield 50,000 bottles per year.

One need only chat for a while while walking among the rows to realize that they are driven by passion and a degree of recklessness, given that Valerio, despite his youth, has suffered a severe heart attack and continues to perform backbreaking labor in vineyard and cellar. For the more curious, Caramelli is the family name of the Marchesi di Clavesana, who were willed land in Rodello by Contessa Clemenza in 1676, including this farm, which has now been restored.

As I said, the visit also offered me the opportunity to evaluate the aging capacity of Bricco Caramelli thanks overtones a nice vertical from 2010 to 2005 (which could have gone further, but they had finished the older vintages). My general impression is that it is a wine easily capable of embarking on a long path, and though there are variations attributable to the vintages, it is an excellent Cru, one of the finest Dolcetti of all, and a wine that sets the standard. Nor should one underestimate Piano delle Perdoni, which, depending upon the vintage, can pluck a rabbit from the hat, displaying quality that easily matches Caramelli. Looking in detail...

Dolcetto D'Alba Bricco Caramelli 2010 
This ferments for 10 days in steel, macerating on the skins, and there's no wood, nor filtration, nor stabilization to take away from the Dolcetto aromas that emerge from the glass. The most recent, this vintage is impenetrable violet ruby and has an extremely fresh bouquet with intense violets, prunes, black cherries, blackberries, balsamic accents, and developing spice. The palate gives the same freshness, a rich, flavorful wine one could call chewable, and one can foresee a happy marriage of structure and elegance.

Dolcetto D'Alba Bricco Caramelli 2009
Dusky, almost impenetrable ruby; the nos is already more complex; there are violets, and a fruity surge of currants, blueberries, blackberries, raspberries, and again balsamic notes with a hint of tobacco. Though the opening of the nose is less immediate than that of the 2010 the palate churns with energy and finesse, power and elegance, savory notes, and perfect symmetry with the nose, and remarkable persistence.

Dolcetto D'Alba Bricco Caramelli 2008
A slightly different vintage; the color is still perfect concentrated ruby, while the nose opens with vegetal accents that yield to violets, iris, cherries, blueberries, blackberries, interesting gingery accents, cinnamon, and pleasant menthol. The palate is more than convincing; there is a slight tannic bite, excellent fruit, and a delicately bitter almond laced finish.

Dolcetto D'Alba Bricco Caramelli 2007
A hot vintage, but at this altitude, and with vines that are decades old this is not a problem: the nose opens with impressive sweetness and intensity, also because the alcohol has blended perfectly with the fruit, which once again moves towards prunes, cherries, and hints of raspberries, while there are also resiny balsamic notes, hints of pepper, and dried flowers. The palate is harmonious, once again balsamic, and still fresh and savory, and long.

Dolcetto D'Alba Bricco Caramelli 2006
In this vintage one is really struck by the violet visible in the rich dark ruby of the wine; 6 years have passed since the harvest and it hasn't faded at all. The fruit is impressively fresh, with echoes of peach that then give way to the more classic cherries, prunes, and ripe raspberries, while there are also balsamic accents, with mature aromas of graphite and dark tobacco. The palate reveals full structure and perfect balance, with tannins that are silky and clearly show that the wine is far from reaching the end of its aging. Terrific persistence.
.
Dolcetto D'Alba Bricco Caramelli 2005
Perhaps the most symbolic year, in a positive sense, one that reveals the greatness of the vineyard; despite seven years of age there are terrific floral accents blaanced by properly sweet ripe fruit that's not the least bit jammy. The vintage emerges on the palate too, with a more nervous, lighter texture that I don't dislike at all: I've already enjoyed it in many Baroli and Barbareschi from this vintage.




Published Simultaneously by IGP, I Giovani Promettenti.

We Are:
Carlo Macchi
Kyle Phillips
Luciano Pignataro
Roberto Giuliani
Stefano Tesi

Visiting Torino: The Mole Antonelliana

This Time, I take the stand:

 

I must confess, when I go to Piemonte it's usually for the wines, and when I do make it to Torino it's on the occasion of Slowfood's Salone del Gusto. However, Daughter C is a great fan of the Egyptians, and we therefore took her to see the Museo Egizio in Torino, one of the world's richest and most exciting collections of Egyptian artifacts.

And, when we emerged from the museum couldn't help but notice Torino's most prominent landmark, the Mole Antonelliana, a slender quadrilateral cupola whose immensely long spire seems to puncture the sky.

It wasn't planned like that, however: After the government of the newly unified Italian State relaxed the strictures on non-Catholic religious buildings in the early 1860s, the city's Jewish community asked Alessandro Antonelli to design a Synagogue for them. Construction began in 1863, but proceeded with difficulty because the he raised the cupola from the planned 47 meters to 113. Technical difficulties and cost overruns led the Community to halt construction in 1869 and apply a temporary roof to what they had.

In 1873 the City negotiated an exchange, giving the Jewish community a different area to build their synagogue, and dedicating the Cupola to King Vittorio Emanuele II. Construction resumed, with the cupola and its spire eventually reaching 167.5 meters, or about 545 feet, and thus becoming the tallest masonry structure in Europe. Alas, though Antonelli continued to work on the structure until he was past 90, using an observation basket that dangled from the center of the dome to check the work, he didn't live to see it finished. Rather, his son Costanzo completed the cupola in the early 1900s, while the decoration of the dome's interior was handled by Annibale Rigotti between 1905 and 1908.

Unfortunately, the weight of the considerably increased upper section proved more than the foundations were capable of standing (the fact that the cupola was built over a section of city walls Napoleon had demolished probably exacerbated the instability), and after a tornado ripped off 47 meters of the spire in 1953 architects wove a reinforced concrete skeleton into the structure to provide additional support.

After the restoration was completed the Mole Antonelliana was used to host temporary shows, and to showcase Torino, as it were: The observation basket Alessandro used was transformed into a glass elevator that rises quickly through the cupola, like a spider whizzing up a thread to stop at the base of the spire, where there is an ample observation deck offers an absolutely stunning view of the city.

Which, with just the occasional show, wasn't enough to draw people. So the city had an inspired idea, and transformed the cupola into the national Cinema Museum: the entrance leads directly to the elevator, where one waits about a half hour (at least, we did) and then whoosh up to the observation post; as you enter the elevator try to take a place by the glass wall, unless you are very afraid of heights, because the view as you rise through the air is delightful.

Depending upon the temperature you'll spend anywhere from 5 to a lot more minutes on the observation deck before returning to the elevator and descending to the museum, which begins with a large, fascinating section dedicated to pre-cinema animation techniques (shadow puppets, animations, dime-store viewers and so on) followed by a floor dedicated to cinematographic techniques with all sorts of cinematic keepsakes, including a black lace bustier belonging to MM, which is (from a male perspective) most impressive.

There's a ramp around the drum of the cupola with a great many poster boards and film posters, and down on the floor of the cupola are pieces of sets, including one designed by Gabriele D'Annunzio, more mementos including a set piece from Alien, and two viewing areas equipped with couches and continuous feeds; if you get tired of watching what's on the screen you simply look up at the cupola, whose lighting changes regularly, sometimes darker, sometimes lighter, and sometimes with images projected over it. Always interesting.

To be honest, though I paid the admission because I wanted to enjoy the view, I'd happily go back and spend more hours simply enjoying the Mole Antonelliana's interior. It's one of the most interesting museums (and buildings) I've been in in many years. I'll be posting photos on the blog version of the newsletter, at http://www.cosabolle.com, so do check them out. And for more information on the Museo del Cinema, see http://www.museonazionaledelcinema.it/en/pages/site_overview/site_overview.php


Published Simultaneously by IGP, I Giovani Promettenti.

We Are:
Carlo Macchi
Kyle Phillips
Luciano Pignataro
Roberto Giuliani
Stefano Tesi

Garantito IGP: And if I Make Sausage from Turnips?

 

This time Stefano Tesi takes the stand.

Doing the impossible is like getting blood from a turnip, says an Italian proverb. But there are people who get salame from turnips.

At Livigno -- altitude 1800 meters, the coldest place in all of Italy, the Little Tibet that, before becoming the duty-free paradise it is now, was isolated by the snows for 6 months of the year, and the dead were buried when the ground thawed -- the people fall into the second group.

Practical people, used to fighting ice and poverty. And therefore to coming up with the unexpected to get ahead, in a valley so high not even buckwheat will grow.

Thus, larch pitch chews for the kids watching the herds on the slopes, and turnip salame. Or better, Lughena da pasola, as they call it.

I want to make clear that present day Livigno bears little resemblance to the Livigno of 50 years ago. Even the traditions have become uniformed, and now the menus feature Pizzoccheri and Polenta Taragna, once staples of other, richer valleys.

But if one leaves the restaurants and visits people's homes, one realizes that the old dishes are still there, just that the locals prefer to enjoy them far from the swarms of tourists, and as tradition dictates. For example on September 8, Santa Maria Nascente, the Patron Saint's day. It's then that the curious traveler can discover, in addition to the lughena, the mösa, the borsàt, and the potòl.

I for example discovered turnip salami, served with a glass of Valtellinese, when I paid a visit to the last smuggler, Rocco Sertorio, a spry eighty-year-old who is now a fixture at the local folk festivals.

But the person who (thanks to the help of Dario Bormolini) told me the history and secrets of this unique cold cut is his companion at these folk festivals, one of the few, if not the last, custodians of the food traditions of the valley: Maria Silvestri, known as Maria Domenica or more usually Ménia. She lives in the only baita in Livigno that has, in addition to the standard decorative flowers, medicinal herbs and flowers hung to dry, to make flavorings, oils and remedies. At a short distance a small herb patch with a simple wooden fence to protect it from the animals and the cold. Little excess and much heart.

My asking how to make the lughena da pasola makes her smile.

"You pick turnips, the usual kind," she said, "you tie them in bunches, and you let them dry in the hay barn until it's time to butcher the pig (fed with polvin, a mixture of hay, cornmeal and water), in March. Then you cook the turnips, let them cool, and work them into the lard from the pig, if possible with a little meat as well, figuring a ratio of two to one, grinding everything and adding a little garlic, until the mixture is dark yellow. You let it drain, mix well, and then add salt, pepper, cloves, and cinnamon or nutmeg. After which you put it into casings made from sheep intestines. 15 days later it's ready to eat."

According to others, whom Ménia doesn't confirm, some also add cabbage to the mix. In Livigno salami are traditionally thin, with a characteristic curvature, and weighing a few etti (quarter pounds), which are easier to age. In the town of Trepalle (500 meters higher, the highest parish in all of Europe) they use the same technique and ingredients, but make larger salamis.

How to consume this specialty?

"In pieces, breaking it apart with the hands and not a knife, and without peeling it," comes the response. "It can be eaten raw or cooked, made crunchy by the heat of a burner, or baked. But aged (it will age well for up to two years, without detriment to flavor or texture) it's also excellent. It's perfect for herders and hikers."

She goes upstairs for a 2-year old salami, which she breaks up and hands me a piece of: a fairly intense garlicky smell coupled with aged meat, and no hints of rancidity. Its texture is almost friable, with a paste that is dry and fairly coarse, crumbling under the teeth to reveal turnips followed by garlic, meat and lard. It's not too persistent but invites another bite, like a beer sausage but less firm and less flavorful. The sip of wine does the rest.

Between bites, the conversation then turns to the past and the way things used to be. When she gets to the avalanches of 1951 Maria's tone changes and her eyes become misty. And the lughena gains a new flavor that has nothing to do with this article.


Published Simultaneously by IGP, I Giovani Promettenti.

We Are:
Carlo Macchi
Kyle Phillips
Luciano Pignataro
Roberto Giuliani
Stefano Tesi

Garantito IGP: Coda Di Volpe, Discovering the Low-Cost Irpinian white in 8 interpretations

This time Luciano Pignataro takes the stand.

When we open a bottle we are not always looking for the Wine of Our Lives. I'd say, to the contrary, that 99% of the time we're opening only what we need, to enjoy with friends or with food. Without thinking overmuch.

Italy's genetic reservoir is infinite, and its study is supported by a paucity of funds and therefore incomplete, but there isn't one region that lacks a hidden ace ready to be played when everything seems to have been seen, read, and drunk.

In Campania one such ace is Coda di Volpe, a white grape widespread in Irpinia, which it likely reached from Vesuvius, on the way to the Sannio area. It's a grape that was always present in farmers' vineyards, used to balance the excessive acidity of Falanghina on Vesuvius, and Fiano and Greco di Tufo in the Irpinia area. Then the decision of two wineries, and we'll never know which thought of it first, to vinify it on its own, after harvesting it early, before San Gerardo, to capture the proper degree of freshness.

Professor Antonio Troisi, at Vadiaperti near Montefredane and Mimmi Oconoe at Ponte, near Beneveto, pioneered this white at the beginning of the 1980s. A wine that was then launched in the 1990s, with the sleek Renano-style bottles of the Cantina del Taburno. For reasons I cannot fathom Falanghina, in the same bottles, took off and became an acclaimed star.

Coda di Volpe instead mosied along, with few believing in it, perhaps because the market wasn't ready for it.

And this is why it's always a good sign if it's kept on a company's product list: it indicates a love for the land, and the existence of a faithful clientele. At the last Fiera Enologica di Taurasi we tasted almost al the Irpinian Coda Di Volpe, and I will now give you a quick rundown.

Cantina Giardino Paski Campania IGT 2010 | Score 85/100
This is an extreme version of a natural wine, long maceration on the skins, no filtration. A textbook example, which brings to mind the old farers' whites beginning with its color, while its freshness may be somewhat penalized. On the other hand, on the palate it's long and savory.

Di Meo Coda di Volpe Campania IGT 2011 | Score 86/100
From the beginning Roberto di Meo has lavished attention on Coda di Volpe, using grapes from Salza Irpina, Montemarano and Manocalzati that are grown at altitudes between 500 and 550 meters. Fermentation in steel; it's very pleasant on the palate, subtle, fresh, dry and zesty. The nose is more standard, and less interesting.

Di Prisco Coda di Volpe DOC 2011 | Score 87/100
Pasqualino Di Prisco's whites are always a pleasant surprise: they're worthy of attention and patience. Even his Coda di Volpe needs a little time. Good fruit on the nose and palate, savoriness, and nice body.

Donnachiara Coda di Volpe Irpinia DOC 2011 | Score 85/100
The first vintage for this winery from Montefalcone, whose attentions, in its initial phases, have been dedicated primarily to whites. Their Coda di Volpe, fermented in steel, has nice tension on the palate, with dryness and freshness, but on the nose has a useless excess of sweet fruit that initially distracts. Bitter clean finish.

Perillo Coda di Volpe Irpinia DOC 2010 | Score 87/100
An example of adherence to the land: A producer of Taurasi and Aglianico who makes just this white without buying Fiano or Greco di Tufo grapes as so many other small winemakers do, to meet the requests of ignorant, facile wine shop and restaurant owners. And what a white: Made simply in steel, but with patience for the release, which is at least a year after the harvest. The sweetness on the nose reflects ripe white berry fruit, flowing into gunflint, and on the palate it's full, ripe, pleasant, long, effective, and perfect with food thanks to the vibrant acidity that supports it from beginning to end, A savory, bitter, thirst-quenching sip.

Tenute del Cavalier Pepe Bianco di Bellona Coda di Volpe Irpinia DOC 2011 | Score 86/100
No winery more than this, managed by Milena Pepe, daughter of emigrants who invested in their home town, buying land and building cellars, believes more in Coda di Volpe, a white so territorial that they planted it without hesitation. The way they manage their grapes is evident in the glass; despite simple fermentation in steel it expresses ripe white fruit, freshness, and savoriness. Long and enjoyable.

Terredora Coda di Volpe Campania IGT 2011 | Score 85/100
Terradora is the only large Irpinian winery to make pure Coda Di Rospo. After a few uncertain vintages, the leap in quality of their other whites has also benefited this wine they consider lesser, with a delicate nose, moderate concentration, and simple freshness that's easy to drink, in a light pleasant interpretation

Vadiaperti Coda di Rospo Irpinia DOC 2011 | Score 88/100
The hand unused to half-measures is evident here too: An absolutely savory white, mineral, vertical, of terrific impact, which captures the attention of the person drinking it and takes center stage. Extremely long, with a clean bitter finish, a bottle that heads for the podium in blind tastings.

Does this tasting show some common trends? We think so:

1 - These are low-cost whites, never more than 10 euros in a wine shop
2 - They are fermented in steel
3 - They generally have simple, rather rustic noses, which are not that interesting
4 - On the plate, however, the markers characteristic of Campania are quite evident: freshness, savoriness, and the total absence of sweetness.
5 - Coda di Volpe is perfect with all manner of fish and vegetarian dishes made without tomatoes,

Published Simultaneously by IGP, I Giovani Promettenti.

We Are:
Carlo Macchi
Kyle Phillips
Luciano Pignataro
Roberto Giuliani
Stefano Tesi

Garantito IGP: Cornello dei Tasso, and The Postal System

This time, I take the stand:

The first few km of the Val Brembana, which goes extends into the Alps behind Bergamo, are decidedly nondescript, with an abundance of relatively recent buildings jumbled together on the valley floor. However, after a few tunnels the construction started to thin, and in the space of a few more km (and more tunnels) you'll find yourself at the bottom of a V, with mountains rising up all around you.

At Camerata Cornello turn off the main road and climb through a series of switchbacks; you'll soon reach a parking garage built for the residents of Cornello dei Tassi, who live a little further on, down the old Via Mercatorum, the medieval commercial route (a wide, well packed trail) that followed the flank of the valley due to an impassable gorge on the valley floor. The Via Mercatorum passes literally through Cornello -- the ground floors of the buildings on its path are porticoed, allowing people to pass under them -- and as a result Cornello was an important stopping point where merchants could rest their animals and themselves, and if the weather was bad enjoy some shelter. They could also trade, and talk, and we will return to this.

The town of Cornello can easily be seen in the space of an hour -- the porticoed section is about a hundred yards long, and the other major local attraction is the parish church, a XII Century Romanesque church dedicated to Saints Cornelio and Cipriano. To reach it, go through the porticoed section, turn right, and climb to a parallel lane. The church's façade is simple rather sever stone work, and you'll note that the tower is slightly out of kilter. Inside there are many frescoes dating to the XV-XVI centuries depicting people of all walks of life. Some are quite nice, but the one that really caught my eye is to the left as you enter: Sant'Elvio, the patron saint of Maniscalchi, or blacksmiths, who simply removes the horse's foreleg to affix the shoe to the hoof without worrying about what the animal is doing. A miracle, and then he (one assumes) reattaches the leg when he has finished. Beautiful.

As I said, the traders who stopped in Cornello also talked, and it didn't take long for the scions of the Tasso Family, one of the leading local families, to wonder if those who were talking might also want the services of a courier to send missives forward or back. So, in the XIII Century Odone De Taxo set up such a service. It proved successful, but one can only have so much success if one works from a town in an Alpine valley. So part of the family moved to Venice, and managed to become the Official Couriers for the Venetian Republic. They did well, and another branch of the family moved to Rome, where they became Maestri delle Poste Papali -- the Papal Postmasters.

Others instead entered into the service of the Holy Roman Emperor, and again did well: In 1512 the Emperor Maximillian bestowed a title upon the family, with a coat of arms featuring a badger (tasso) and a postal bugle, enriched by the Imperial Eagle. The family also worked for Maxiimillian's cousins, the Kings of Spain, and for several centuries various branches of the Tasso Family (part of the German branch became Princes of Thurn and Taxis) ran the postal system throughout much of Europe, establishing routes between hundreds of cities and precise schedules.

They became fabulously wealthy, and continued to provide postal services throughout Europe until well into the 19th century, by which time the various European governments had realized that government-controlled national postal systems were perhaps a good idea. Indeed, when the European governments met in the 1850s to discuss postal matters, the Tasso Family joined them at the table, and subsequently issued stamps for its routes, which continued to function until 1866, when the Prussians unified Germany and nationalized the German postal system. At this point the Tasso family ceded its operations to the various national postal systems and turned its attentions to other ventures.

Not bad for a family that started out sending packets up and down an Alpine valley! And they are well remembered in Cornello, which changed its name to Cornello Dei Tassi, and hosts a small but fascinating museum dedicated to the Tasso family and the postal system they established, with stamps, letters, portraits of royal sponsors, and much more.

And why is Cornello now served by a mule track rather than a paved road, you wonder? Because in 1592 the Venetians, who ruled Bergamo at the time, overcame the obstacles on the valley floor and built a new, easier to travel road called the Via Priula. Cornello became isolated, and while this did mean hardships for generations of its inhabitants (an Abbot who visited in 1899 spoke of poor mountaineers who spent their summers working in France, to earn enough to survive the winters), because of the isolation the town remains unchanged, and is one of the best preserved Alpine trading villages anywhere. And well worth a visit.

Published Simultaneously by IGP, I Giovani Promettenti.

We Are:
Carlo Macchi
Kyle Phillips
Luciano Pignataro
Roberto Giuliani
Stefano Tesi

Garantito IGP: The Val di Cembra and The Legionnaire Uncle

This time Stefano Tesi takes the Stand:

Lying on the bed of my room, looking though the shadows to the bit of mountain I could see from my window, A single thought ran through my head. And had since morning, when, as I waited for breakfast, I had examined the old pictures on the walls. And seen him: Uncle Luigi.

Photo by Giorgio Def

It was a shot from after the war, in black and white, a family picture with simple people, farmers. But Luigi (they had told me that was his name) stood out: Dark lively eyes, hair combed back, and a naïve smile that hid a worried expression. Quite worried, almost anguished. "He was a bit 'strange,'" remembers his niece. Once, to rebel against his grandmother's religious fervor, which dominated the house, he took brush and paint and wrote, on the back wall of the house, where there are now the four rooms of the agriturismo, "This is the Devil's House."

And then he left the valley with the (quite believable) excuse that there was no work to be had. The best he came up with was enrolment in the French Foreign Legion, which took him to the hells of Indochina and Algeria, where he looked death in the face. Experiences that, after his discharge, provided him with an inexhaustible well of tales with which to entertain nephews and nieces the few times he returned to visit his relatives. But not even retirement led him to return to the valley; he lived and died, alone as he always had been, in a town in southern France where the Government had homes for discharged soldiers. Who knows what secret, if any, Luigi kept in his breast?

You are doubtless wondering where this is going, and what question I had as I lay on my bed.

Photo by Ronnie Kiau

Two questions, actually. First, what the Val di Cembra was like seventy years ago. Second, if there is now a good reason to want to settle there.

And despite my wonderings, I couldn't come up with an answer. The Val di Cembra is a valley of Trentino, deep and rural. It's too low to be mountainous, too high to be hilly, with thick forests and steep slopes. A series of towns on the slopes, and a pair of porphyry quarries that are an insult to the eyes but saved the local economy. Vineyards everywhere, perched on the cliffsides, climbing the gullies, set into terraces unaccessible to tractors. Now they're almost all planted to Muller Thurgau (for the past 25 years Cembra has hosted a fair dedicated to the wine), which replaced the glorious Schiava 30 years ago. Vineyards dricen into the mountains, at altitudes up to 900 meters, rurality in the breezes.

Further up there's the Lago di Cembra. It freezes in winter, and when we were kids we'd go skating. Then, in the 70s, a Dutchman (who could perhaps answer my second question) appeared and told the startled villagers they could play bocce on the ice: Curling had come to Cembra.

What does this have to do with anything? Quite a bit. Another ten years go by, and a local girl marries a Swiss man. Not just any Swiss man, but a curling champion. To cut to the quick, a school opens, and then a team, and then another. And now there are six, including the national champions: Cembra, and its valley, are the capital of Italian Curling. 

But this may not be a good reason to come to the Val di Cembra. Nor even Muller Thurgau (though I have had some that were quite interesting and even unexpected, including Pilzer's grappas and distillates). Perhaps there isn't a good reason to come up here, and this could be the answer to my question.

However, I came to a different conclusion. I got up and opened the window. I enjoyed the vineyards draped over the slopes of the narrow valley. I went out under the pergola, and chatted with the owners of the house, Tiziana and Rosa, and enjoyed the homey pie, the cheeses and the cold cuts, while listening to the brook and sensing the Dolomites in the distance.  And told myself that I'd be back soon, precisely because, despite the apparent lack of a good reason to stay there were many.

Uncle Luigi did differently, but he was born there.

Who knows, he might have been good at curling.

Agriturismo Maso val Fraja
Via Val Fraja, Cembra (TN)
Tel. 0461 680096 o 683785
www.masovalfraia.it.

Non-attributed photos courtesy Cembra Mostra Vini Muller Thurgau.


Published Simultaneously by IGP, I Giovani Promettenti.

We Are:
Carlo Macchi
Kyle Phillips
Luciano Pignataro
Roberto Giuliani
Stefano Tesi

Garantito IGP: Montevetrano 2010 Colli di Salerno IGT

This time Luciano Pignataro takes the stand:

Silvia Imparato's Adventure began precisely 20 years ago, on a hill near Salerno, at the feet of the Piacentini, the mountains of the Massiccio del Terminio that sit astride the Province of Avellino: She began to make wine with her Roman friends in the old family home out in the country.

It seem like, and is, a standard 1990s story, but with one important difference: It wasn't concocted by a marketing agency.

Because this adventure started in an area that was at the time unknown in terms of wine. The first Vini D'Italia Guide published in 1988 mentioned just 7 wineries. Now a guide worth its salt lists at least 90.

There were Mastroberardino's wines, especially the whites that were released by Christmas to be drunk on New Year's Eve. And the whites of Ischia, the reds from Moio, and Mondragone, and a tremendous volume of bulk wine made by the cooperatives and the wineries in the outskirts of Naples.

Montevetrano played a precise role, which is obvious today but was revolutionary in 1994: that in the South, and in Campania, it was possible to make noteworthy wines capable of holding their on in the world markets.

At the time the lethargy Campanian wine had fallen into before the war came to an end, with a reawakening of enthusiasm, success, and development. Much as was happening in other parts of Italy, but here the reawakening affected an area with great indigenous wines that was beset by all manner of problems.

As always happens, those who lead are contested. And so it was here, especially with the rise of Wine Criticism 2.0, which shifted its attention to other wineries, in part as a response to the "official" wine press that published on paper, and in part because everyone wanted to discover something new.

Over the years Silvia Imparato has produced great bottles that hold indefinitely, ignoring fashion and trend with classy assurance. In these 20 years the world has changed completely, while Montevetrano has become a classic.

A classic built upon real farming, organic farming that plays out the lives that go into the wine. A history that transcends the boring barriques/no barriques and indigenous/international arguments, because it was born the only tradition in the Salento was jugs of bulk wine made with every varietal one could name, including Piemontese Barbera. Now the traits identifying Cabernet Sauvignon, Merlot, and Aglianico are easy to recognize.

On this rich hillside was old the tale of a viticulture that was able to turn the tables on stereotypes and establish country life as an improvement with respect to life in the cities.

The 2010 is Good, and will be there to celebrate Montevetrano's 40th anniversary alongside the still extraordinarily fresh 1992.


Published Simultaneously by IGP, I Giovani Promettenti.

We Are:
Carlo Macchi
Kyle Phillips
Luciano Pignataro
Roberto Giuliani
Stefano Tesi