The Road Trip: Leg 15 (to Chamonix)

Before we left Courmayeur, we stopped in a cute little cheese shop in town (the waitpeople were in traditional dress), and picked up some local offerings, including an interesting aged Fontina. Most Fontina is soft and a bit boring, though good for cooking; this was firmer and had a natural, cheese mitey rind, and actually had some flavor. Quite a find. We also grabbed some mocetta de cervo (deer bresaola) and lardo, ostensibly for our picnic lunch while hiking up on the mountains.

However, it was really hot. And after we spent some time checking out Aosta (which offers some nice views of the surrounding mountains, but isn't such an interesting town otherwise) we couldn't quite bring ourselves to find a trailhead and go hiking. Luckily, there were a few good turn-offs on the way out of the Valley, so we were able to "experience" a bit of the countryside.

The tunnel between France and Italy under Mont Blanc costs 35.10 E. At 7.25 miles, this is 4.84 E/ mi. And there's nothing to see besides the tail lights of the car in front of you.

It was something of a relief to cross the boarder back in to France; Italy was nice, but not speaking any Italian was a significant handicap. And we were finally able to charge our phone card. And the bread and pastries suddenly became fabulous. Etc., etc., etc.

The last time Julianna was in Chamonix with her family, they stayed in the Hotel Eden, so she contacted them for a reservation. Sadly, they didn't have any free rooms... but they did offer us a room in "the apartment" for the same price. While I thought it sounded a bit odd, and the price was a bit high, she went ahead and booked it.

What an incredible place. We had the run of a two bedroom suite, with a small kitchenette, a nice living room with a giant TV, complete with a couple of little balconies with great views of the mountains. The wifi worked well, so we were able to get Skype with our parents while nibbling on a bit of the cheese and salume we picked up earlier in the day. It was such a comfortable, relaxing time, and just made our return to France that much more satisfying.

While cheese and salume are good, they weren't quite enough for dinner, so we popped downstairs to the Hotel restaurant, and had one of the best meals of our trip. They were offering a limited, off-season, Summer menu, but the dishes were perfectly chosen; there were a variety of apps. and one meat, one fish and one veg. for the mains. We split a meal since we had already snacked, but the dishes were superlative. We started with a Tartelette d’oignon confit et fromage de chèvre which had a perfect, flaky crust, a light, goat cheese custard, and a delicious, surprisingly sweet red onion relish. Afterwards, the  Risotto aux asperges à l’ail was simply perfect; the risotto was soft and tender and spot on, and there was a bounty of tender little spears of asparagus. Those two dishes were revelatory, though particularly notable after our disappointment with our last couple of meals. We finished with a Crème brulée maison, made with lots of vanilla pod and topped with a crust neither too sweet nor too soft nor too thick... along with a great local (?) apple liquor of some sort as a digestif.

And to make the night complete, the owner was watching the Champions League final in the lounge as we floated away from the table, so I got to watch 30 mins. of "footie" as Inter beat Bayern Munich. It was an evening for the ages.


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The Road Trip: Leg 14 (to Courmayeur)

[Ugh, this is so late.... I'm trying to catch up, but there's so much going on now... all the good pictures are published here]


Our last day in Piemonte was jam-packed with wonderful, exciting wine tasting, beginning at about 10:00. We started at Agricola Gian Piero Marrone, a winery who had made a great Nebbiolo d'Alba that we had quite enjoyed in Genova, and was very conveniently located next door to our B&B. It is a small, family winery, currently run by three sisters (one is the bookkeeper, one is the marketing/sales person, and one is the winemaker); our tasting happened on the kitchen table, with a toddler scampering around underfoot. The wines were good, though we preferred the Nebbiolo d'Alba we had tried earlier over the rest of the lineup. We bought a few bottles of both the '03 and the '04 so it will be interesting to see how things develop over the next few years.


After our tour and tasting, we ran back up to La Morra, in an attempt to find a working internet connection and book a B&B in the Val d'Aosta for the evening. I also stopped by the Cantina Communale di La Morra, which is a neat wine shop run by the municipality, dedicated solely to the wines of the Commune of La Morra. All of the Barolo communes have this sort of shop, which is an easy way to find local wines, without having to run around to all the different wineries. I don't think it's non-profit, but the prices are certainly comparable to purchasing directly from the wineries, and there are sometimes a few older vintages.


After lunch, we were able to get a tour of Fratelli Ferrero, where we had been staying the last few nights; Nina, Renato Ferrero's wife, showed us the family's cellars (dating back to the 1700's), gave us a bit of the family history, pointed out some of the plantings, and then took us back to the house, where we checked out the ageing room in the garage. All in all, it's a small-ish setup (with just enough work for Renato and one other guy to handle), and most of the infrastructure has been in place for a generation or two; they were emptying some of the barriques while we were there, and rented a van to transport the wine from the cellar to the garage. The wines were good, though I don't remember too many details now... the second-tier Barolo was quite reasonably priced, and the Langhe Nebbiolo was great, so we got a few bottles and stashed them away for future consumption.


After all the drinking and talking and suchlike, we finally got on the road. It was a nice drive up around Genova back to the Alps, and it felt really nice to be back up in the mountains; it's become more and more apparent that we are "mountain people", and while Toscana and Piemonte are nice places to visit, we really feel more at home when there are snow-capped peaks in the middle distance. Who knows what that means for our return, since San Francisco doesn't have much by way of serious mountains, but that's something do deal with later.


Courmayeur is right on the Italian side of Monte Bianco, i.e. Mont Blanc. It's rather a cute town, though a bit resort-y. The B&B Les Pyramids turned out to be above an Audi garage, which was a bit weird. However, we were able to find a reasonable dinner up the road, though Polenta with Pancetta and Scamorza is maybe a bit over the top. But Mocetta di Cervo (a bresaola-like cured loin of venison) was tasty, and the wine was decent (more Nebbiolo, but not quite the same quality as in Piemonte). A nice end to a good day.



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Piedmontese Paradise

For not being the Alps, Piemonte is pretty damn lovely. It was warm and sunny, and there are vines covering every inch of rolling hillside and you can't throw a brick without it bouncing off the wall of one winery and through the window of another. And while trying to understand that amount of expensive wine is a rather intimidating prospect, it's also a very enticing project.

Our hostess offered a few suggestions of things to see, so after a walk to see the Cordero de Montezemolo Cedar (planted in 1856), we hopped in the car to go tour through some of the highlights of Piemonte; Monforte, Barolo, and Alba.

The road through Barolo was under construction, but it meant that there weren't any cars in the tiny, tiny town that gave its name to one of the world's best wines. We got a nice, cheap lunch at a sandwich shop, who offered a cheese plate of what looked to be good, artisanal cheeses, though none of them were especially interesting or tasty. Quite disappointing.

However, Monforte was a rather nice town. There was an interesting church in the middle, which was built in the early 1900s, and was mostly made of concrete, but nicely decorated concrete. It is beautifully painted on the inside, and there's a basketball hoop in the parking lot. The old church on top of the hill wasn't quite so impressive, but the view was fabulous. We could see the Alps to the West and the Apennines to the South East, and everything in between.

All of that cultural and geographical appreciation made us a bit thirsty, so we found a wine bar and spent the next two hours drinking and eating complimentary prosciutto and lardo. I am very supportive of the wonderful Italian tradition of bringing delicious cured meats with each round, so there's no reason to leave once you've found the perfect warm, sunny spot to drink. We worked our way through some good Nebbiolo d'Alba and such, and found a great Prosecco, the name of which I've now forgotten.

It may have been the wine, or it may have been the GPS, or it may have been confusing road signs, but somehow our route between Monforte and Alba ended up going through the middle of a vineyard; I mean, we were dodging down rows of vines, trying to find our way down off of a mountain, in paths that were designed  more  for tractors than for sedans, and the huge plume of dust making our passage particularly noticeable. And being "off-the-GPS-grid" is a bit unnerving, especially when reaching the closest road means cutting across rows of vines.

Eventually we emerged from behind a "Private Property: No Entry" sign (so it all worked out ok), and continued on to Alba. The couple of streets that make up the pedestrian center of town are quite large, and lined with shopping. It was getting to be tired and hungry and cranky time, and rather than spending the next hour trying to find a good restaurant, we decided to take advantage of our patio and have a picnic. I bought a bottle of Brachetto d'Acqui, a delightful, fruity, sparkling red wine, and Julianna got a gigantic ball of burrata and some marinated artichoke hearts. With a cone of gelato as an apéritif, we had a really lovely meal. And probably thanks to our "CD" [corps diplomatique] license plates, the policeman eyeballing the car when we arrived, 10 minutes after our parking meter expired, didn't give us a ticket. A wonderful end to a wonderful day (though the sunset wasn't quite as impressive as the previous evening).

The Road Trip: Leg 13 (to Frazione Annunziata, Piemonte)

On the day of our departure from Firenze, there were a few errands to run before leaving, the most important of which was my returning to the Scuola del Cuoio and buying the beautiful, hand-made, black leather jacket I had seen the day before.... 

As I emerged from the shop, I heard some distant rumblings of thunder, the first intimation that the lovely weather we had enjoyed was coming to the end. Julianna had returned to the car first, and had things organized and the windows rolled down to it air out. I tossed the jacket in the back, got in the front seat, and prepared myself for a long drive in the rain. Pressed the Prius "Start" button... and nothing happened. Again... nothing. Tried to put up the windows... they inched up slightly before stopping entirely. And then the rain started. It was pouring, the windows were open, we couldn't open the trunk to see if there were jumper cables in the trunk because the trunk is electronic, and we don't know the words for "dead battery" or "Can you jump my car?" And it was 12:30, the beginning of the Italian 2 hr. daily siesta. All the Americans in Florence were camped in a cafe somewhere, or back on the tour bus, and none of the Italian drivers understood English, or had cables. 

For two hours, we stood in the rain, watching the rain pour off the tarp we were able to throw over the top of the car, and periodically going around the corner to see if the nearby mechanic had opened back up yet. We couldn't leave the car and go hang out somewhere warm and dry since the windows were open and some stuff was out on the sidewalk, and the tarp kept blowing up in the wind. That was about the longest, most unpleasant two hours I've spent, though Julianna was incredibly calm and collected about the whole thing. 

By 2:15, the rain had about stopped, and I finally discovered someone at the garage, though his only response to my fumbling attempts to communicate the problem was to say that they open at 2:30... about 2:35, a young guy pulled up, tossed a spare battery and charger in the back seat of a car, and had the Prius restarted in about 10 minutes. He refused payment very graciously, but we were able to press a bottle of Rainoldi Brut Rose on him, so we felt like we were able to demonstrate our appreciation for his help. Such a relief to leave Firenze and head up to Piemonte.

I had made reservations at a very reasonably priced B&B, that happened to be the in-law apartment of a winery, Az. Ag. Fratelli Ferraro. It was a nice, newly remodeled room, with a little kitchenette, and lots of space and a small patio, so we were able to hang up all our wet clothes, and bring all the suitcases inside for repacking and drying. The weather was dry and clear and warm and the sunset behind hills covered in vines was stunning. We found a nice place to eat up in La Morra, and finally felt able to put Firenze behind us.

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Fireze Fiasco! or The Florence Follies

So... Florence (hereafter referred to as "Firenze", which is much more exotic and sexy) has been both wonderful and terrible over the two days we've spent here.

It is beautiful. There's wonderful architecture (besides the Duomo and Cathedral and other "municipal" buildings"), and neat, narrow, windy streets, and some wonderful art, etc. etc. etc. The sights are relatively accessible, and don't cost too much. And the gelato is both plentiful and of high quality (though the best place is the Gelateria dei Neri, which we discovered half-way through our stay, and to which we returned to about four or five different times; "Mexican" chocolate with pistachios and chili, chocolate with orange, chocolate amaro, and pistachio). And there's good shopping and a lot of leather work of middling quality and the center is mostly pedestrianized and there's a river that runs along the edge of the center, which is a generally good thing, even if it's not particularly picturesque.

On the other hand, it is simply filled with American tourists. All the shop people and waiters speak English (and probably French and German), and there are intermittently hordes of people who show up at one of the various attractions and completely swamp the area.

We had good lodging juju, with finding a snazzy, new hotel the first night (Hotel Rosso23), and a much better B&B the second night (B&B Le Seggiole), which had opened about three weeks prior, and is run by an adorable, and gorgeous, and very helpful, red-headed Swede.

But the food was terrible (besides gelato). The first night, we ate at Ruth's, a kosher, vegetarian, Jewish restaurant adjacent to the Synagogue. It was recommended by Michelin, and Italian-Jewish food has a long history, and can be quite interesting. However, this was pretty standard, with decent humus, sub-par falafel, good caponata, and very curious (but not tasty) fried artichokes. We did finish dinner quickly, and were able to make it back across town for a concert in a decommissioned church (playing Stabat Matar and a handful of other pieces), so there was an up-side, but otherwise, uninteresting.

The next night, we set out into the city armed with a good, non-touristy restaurant recommendation. Sadly, they were full that night, and didn't change their minds even after I asked for a seat on four separate occasions. So we circled the neighborhood about three times, getting hungrier and crankier, and just before deciding to blow off the whole thing, I made the executive decision to eat at a place that looked lousy and touristy (with "Italian" items hanging on the walls and fiascos of Chianti dangling from the ceiling) but seemed small and busy.

However, the dining room continued back and back and back on to a covered patio. The waiters were rushing around, and it took five or so minutes for someone to drop off menus, and I still had to ask for a wine list. We ordered a set of starters, which were quite bland, and therefore unobjectionable. Our mains were polpette and a couple of slices of bistecca alla fiorentina. The steak was ok(ish), but the poplette were inedible; terribly salty and a bizarre, very fine, Spam-like texture. And to top things off, the half-bottle of "Chiante Classico" I had ordered turned out to be Toscana IGT, a substitution I didn't notice until after I had given the waiter my credit card. The management had no interest in removing the charge from my bill, and since 10% gratuity had been added to the charge as well, the waiter didn't care I was displeased either. It was the worst meal we have ever eaten.

The Road Trip: Leg 12 (to Firenze)

Left Rome early to get up to either Siena or Florence. Finally, half-way decent weather.


Siena is shit. Terrible food, filled with Americans, all the sights charge for admittance, and it's just big enough, with narrow and windy streets, to get totally turned around in. It's up on top of a hill or plateau, and there are elevators to get up to the city, which just illustrates how touristic it is.


Firenze is much more attractive, though also filled with Americans. Good shopping, similarly pedestrian friendly, more and better churches (besides some of the best museums in the world), and it has a river running through it, which I've long decided is essential for a good city.


Arrived later in the afternoon; reserved time for the Uffizi, and spent an hour trying to find a good hotel.
Dinner at Ruth's, a Kosher Vegetarian resto. Recomended by Michelin, but in the cheap category. I was excited about Italian Jewish food, which can actually be pretty interesting. This wasn't particularly; good humous, fried artichokes, caponata.



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"Oh, the streets of Rome are filled with rubble."

"Ancient footprints are everywhere.
You can almost think that you're seeing double
On a cold, dark night on the Spanish Stairs."


A cold, rainy day is almost the same, but we didn't have any double vision. We were mostly wet and miserable, as Valentina figured we ought to see some of the city, so in spite of the rain, she sent us out into the wilderness of Rome to admire the birthplace of Western Culture. We saw all of the "Top 10 Sights" listed on the back of our map, and a few extras that weren't listed as essential... and I think it's a bit of a cop-out that the Vatican and St. Peter's Square are listed as separate sights. Valentina dropped us off at the Palazzo del Popolo, and we wandered up the Spanish Steps, then down and around and past the Trevi Fountain, and eventually found ourselves in front of the Monumento to Victor Emmanuel II, where we got lunch, then walked around the back of the Monument to see the Foro Romano and the Colosseum (via the Circus Maximus, which wasn't anything other than a long, grotty looking field), and walked through the Piazza Navona and the Pantheon on the way to meet Valentina in the evening, in front of the Castel Sant' Angelo.

I had a fond recollection from my previous visit to Rome of the incredible Michelangelo sculpture of Moses with horns on his head in the church of S. Pietro in Vincoli, and it turned out that we were nearby at one point, so we poked our heads in to appreciate a bit of art.  And I had forgotten how impressive St. Peter's Basilica is, and was blown away when we stopped by the Vatican the next day; the Pieta was really moving, and there's lapis lazuli used as decorative paving inlay, and the choir singing during the Mass was beautiful.

We met Valentina and a number of her friends for dinner at a pizza place in Trastevere, a small, pedestrianized, "Latin Quarter" type neighborhood. This was the first (and last!) pizza we ate in Italy, which is shocking. Julianna's Gorgonzola and Radicchio was wonderful, my Diavola first arrived as a Margharita, then returned with a dash of hot pepper and some salame. It was tasty though, regardless.

The next day we returned to Trastevere for brunch at an unusual place called Bibli. It's a great, all-you-can-eat 20E buffet, with surprisingly good food, that only happens on Sunday, located in a bookstore. The buffet is set up in one of the main reading rooms, with tables scattered around the other rooms. It's really an unusual scene, and being able to browse the stacks while eating quiche or scrambled eggs or whatever is quite nice.

The Road Trip: Leg 11 (to Rome)

Parma was a bit dull; there was lots of Parmigiano Reggiano and Prosciutto di Parma, etc. but not much else. There were some nice pedestrian areas, a few landmarks that we didn't particularly check out, a bit of shopping, and some restaurants. Not much different from any other town, and since we were a bit over meat and cheese, the city didn't speak to us. We had a reasonable lunch (featuring Lambrusco risotto, which was bright purple and tasty, and veal cheeks with a balsamic reduction, which were quite sweet, but tender) after walking around more of the city for much of the day, but the highlight was finding the first non-Spanish cherries of the season, and some wild, Sicilian strawberries. 

We left about 5:00 in order to get to Rome by 7:30, to meet up with a high school friend of Julianna's, Valentina. She's got a lovely place in the north of Rome, and treated us with royal hospitality. We opened the wine from Heidi (see two posts ago), which was lovely with the Bitto and other cheeses we bought in Morbegno (see last post), and had a wonderful evening with Valentina and her boyfriend, Jean-Paulo.



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The Road Trip: Leg 10 (to Parma) [or, More Days of Wine (and Cheese and Salame and Pasta) and Roses]

Our day started early with a 10:30 appointment for wine tasting at Cantine Rainoldi. Good thing breakfast was plentiful (see prev. post for full menu). Heidi sent us off with a bottle of her son's wine, a white wine of unknown vintage and cepage.

Aldo Rainoldi is a third generation wine maker, and is doing lovely things with Chiavennasca (i.e. Nebbiolo). We got a bit of history of the winery, a tour of the cellars, and then went through six different wines, from a Brut Rose' sparkling wine made from Nebbiolo, to some mid-level cru selections, to their flagship wine, Sfursat Fruttaio Ca'Rizzieri. Aldo described this as the connection between Piemonte and Valpollicella, being made with the Nebbiolo grape, but prepared in an Amarone style. If that description doesn't speak to you, suffice it to say that it was beautiful wine, wonderfully complex and flavorful, and I look forward to drinking the bottles we purchased over the next 10 years or so.

After the tasting and subsequent purchasing of wine, he recommended a couple more places to eat, of which one turned out to be on our way south. L'Osteria del Crotto provided an incredible lunch, after we found it, tucked away behind a church and some other stuff, and up a steep, small alleyway. They placed a great emphasis upon Slow Cooking, and using official Slow Food items, including Violino di Capra and Bitto. My tortelli with (I think) ricotta and spinach were incredibly light and flavorful and perfect. The grilled zucchini that accompanied Julianna's piece of meat were "the best ever."

I finished with a vertical tasting of alpage Bitto, paired with Rainoldi Sfursat. The plate had 1 yr., 2 yr. 4 yr. and 10 yr. Bitto. The cheeses were wonderful; I preferred the 4 yr., which was smoky and buttery and earthy and complex, while jULiana liked the 2 yr., which was a bit smoother and more herbaceous.
But the wine was off. And this was the first time that I felt confident enough in my palette and knowledge to point out that the bottle had oxidized, and while raisin aromas may be typical of Sfursat, it shouldn't smell like port. This was a bit tough to do in Italian, but I got through it, and the new bottle was significantly better. And made the parings that much more delicious.

The last stop in the Valtellina was at a wonderful cheese and wine and cooking stuff shop that Aldo had also recommended, Fratelli Ciapponi. It has been around since the late 1800's, and not only has four levels of wine cellar, each filled with old, dusty bottles of wine from around Italy and France, but has a wonderful cheese room (which has a salame hanging from the rafters and a handful of local cheeses arranged on a table), and a lot of old copper cooking antiques. We bought a couple of bottles of Ar.Pe.Pe, since we hadn't been able to get into the winery, a nice, big lump of Bitto, and a few other cheeses. The Bitto was a wonderful, 3 yr. old, alpage cheese, with a great smoky flavor and firm, smooth texture. Just lovely.

The drive to Parma was uneventful, though the bit around Lake Como was striking. We arrived late in the evening, found an uninteresting hotel room, walked around the city until getting tired and cranky, found a busy restaurant serving basic, relatively uninteresting food, but did finally have an opportunity to eat some vegetables.

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Viva the Valtellina!

Light, fluffy clouds are picture-esque as long as you are not trying to view them from inside. This morning (i.e. two weeks ago) was still so cloudy and foggy, that it was impossible to see anything on the hillside, much less across the valley. So after a massive breakfast of: ...
yogurt
and soft boiled eggs
and good bread
with homemade preserves (including a great orange marmelade)
and three kinds of salume (bresaola, coppa, and prosciutto)
and a freshly baked apple cake
and coffee
(Heidi took great pride in the bounty of her breakfast table, and mentioned that there's a bit of a competition among the local B&B owners as to who offers the biggest breakfast. The fact that she's the only one in Teglio just means that she's well ahead of any prospective hoteliers.)

...we got on the road up to the Bagni Vecchio in Bormio, because there's no better way to wait out poor weather than in hot water. The hot springs have been in use since Roman times anyway, and the baths were built to take advantage of the springs sometime in the Middle Ages (1200ish). The water isn't very hot, only about 100 deg. at the source, but some of the ancient grottos are amazing, and there are incredible views from most of the pools and the saunas (we saw a family of ibex wandering through the grounds). We had a great time, and got to watch the clouds away, and reveal (most) of the valley for the first time.

Since we had spent most of the day appreciating historical architecture, we felt the we had earned the right to spend the rest of the evening wine tasting, before heading to our dinner reservations.

Sadly, or tasting excursion was largely a failure. We hadn't contacted anyone ahead of time, assuming that we could just show up and drink some wine. Our first stop was at Cantine Rainoldi, where we met the owner, Aldo, who informed us that they usually liked a bit of notice before giving tours. However, he was very nice about it, and made a reservation for us for the next day, and also offered three or four dinner places that he particularly liked.

We then tried to find Ar.Pe.Pe., a winery recommended by our hostess' son, who is a vigneron and sells to both Ar.Pe.Pe and Rainoldi. The address from the promotional literature, and the different address in the GPS system, both took us into a very strange industrial complex, without any apparent wine-related businesses. And it turned 6;00 pm just as we were arriving at Nino Negri, so we weren't able to get in there. So, with an hour before dinner, we stopped at the Napa-style tasting room of Pietro Nera, where I tried to unsuccessfully to demonstrate the difference between Valtellina Superiore and Valtellina Sfursat (a local version of Amarone). We knew that the wine wasn't going to be great, and they did bring us salume and grissini to go with our wine, but the wines were nearly indistinguishable, and both rather indifferent.

Dinner at il Poggio was notable for three things; a beautiful view (and the weather had cleared up so it was actually visible), blueberry gnocchi (which were purple, but didn't taste like blueberries, nor much of anything, for that matter), and meat on a giant "skewer" that was about an inch in diameter, grilled in an oven in the dining room. Julianna also very much enjoyed her mixed appetizer plate, which included "the best lox [she's] ever tasted." I thought the food was good, but not incredible, though the view about made up for it. The Valtellina is a beautiful part of the world, when it is visible.

The Road Trip: Leg 9 (to Teglio)

Forgive me, readers, for I have sinned. It's been I don't know how many days since my last posting. I am astonished that the best, most consistent internet access has been on small, isolated farms, tucked up in the mountains. Anyway, there are some new pictures posted, and I'll try to catch up over the next couple of days. Posts will be issued in chronological order, so "today" is going to mean "two weeks ago" for a while....

The day of our departure from Oberschwanden was the first really lovely day of our stay. Between the gorgeously, splendidly, brilliant, blue sky and the green, snowcapped mountains, and the Brienzersee sparkling  down below, the view was breathtaking.

And so we headed south to Italy, chasing the rain and haze and fog. We got to watch Switzerland change from the green, pyramidal mountains of the center, to the jagged, gray, granite cliffs of the south. It was quite something, though seemed a little foreboding at times. Especially when the GPS directed us to a train station, and instructed us to "take the ferry" through the mountains... and since the car train was going to cost $200 Fr. and the first of the passes through the Alps was open (though the second was questionable), we headed up into the clouds.

I think there is a certain similarity between our drive through the Alps and Hannibal's invasion of Italy; while he had to deal with elephant-related logistics that we were able to avoid, getting a relatively large, "efficient" (i.e. somewhat gutless) Japanese car up the mountains was quite a daunting task. We started with beautiful summer weather, went up about 45 tight, 180° switchbacks, entered a number of cloud drifts and discovered winter.

If going up was slow and twisty and windy, coming down was worse. The switchbacks were just as tight, but visibility ranged between maybe 50-100 ft., and it was difficult keeping my speed slow enough not to go flying off the edge, or swing back and forth across the other lane. We had to stop half-way down in order to give the breaks a rest, since pumping the breaks wasn't really an option, and they got pretty toasty after the . There were a few moments between driving through cloud drifts when we were able see down the mountain, which just made things more nerve-wracking...

But we made it down successfully, and dropped into the Valtellina. Or at least I assumed we did, since we weren't able to see any of the mountains. The clouds were very low and thick, and the mountains on both sides of a rather small, narrow valley were completely invisible. The valley floor was clear, but everything disappeared a few hundred feet up. Which was rather ironic, since I had chosen to stay in Teglio because it was on a little promontory up above the valley floor, and was supposed to afford a wonderful view. Obviously, it didn't quite work out that way.

Teglio turned out to be a bit farther away from the main road than I had expected, and our B&B was a bit more isolated than I had expected as well, so between the windy roads down the pass, and the windy roads up to Teglio, and the windy road back down to the house, we arrived quite late in the evening. But Ca' Branchi turned out to be a wonderful place to stay. Heidi, our hostess, was incredibly warm and friendly, and the house was very quiet and peaceful. She recommended that we try a restaurant back up the hill, 'al Tegli,' which specialized in the local dish, pizzoccheri (pronounced "piz-och-eri").

We were the only people in the restaurant, besides the owner and his extended family, who were having a great time in the next room. Our meal started with a mixed plate of cured meats, including prosicutto, bresaola, and the best lardo I've ever eaten, all silky and soft and flavorful and looking like snowy hills on the plate. Just wonderful.

Our pizzoccheri followed, and was a pleasant surprise, since we had ordered it without really knowing what we were getting. It was listed as both an appetizer and a main course, and I had assumed it was some sort of pizza. In fact, it is a wonderful dish of buckwheat noodles cooked with potatoes and cabbage and roasted garlic and lots of cheese (which anyone who followed the link above already knows); classic mountain food, and redolent of the best qualities of Swiss cooking (which is generally disappointing, except when the ingredients are cheese, meat and a carb. of some sort), though with some Italian refinements (like garlic). It was quite tasty, and rather filling for an Italian pasta course. The wine was delicious, though maybe not the best pairing; Aldo Rainoldi's Sassella Riserva 2003, which was quite reasonably priced and recommended by Becky, the "beverage manager" at Bar Bambino (thanks Bex). We had just enough room afterwards for coffee and a slice of cake, before rolling back down the mountain to home. A delightful welcome to Italy, even if the weather was lousy.

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"Switzerland is beautiful, Switzerland is fine..."

... I like Switzerland, I visit all the time.

I think my Mom may be the only person who's going to catch my very obscure reference to a children's song about sandwiches, but Switzerland is quite a nice place, even if it's not very exciting, and slightly irritating some of the time. For example:

Everyone is very friendly, but serious in a certain way, and believe in doing things correctly. There's the right way, the wrong way, and the Swiss way to do things; and the Swiss way is the right way, but faster.

The speed limits here are about 20 kph slower than everywhere else in Europe. I got (will get) my first ticket for going 94 in a 80 zone (58.4 mph in a 49.7), and my fingers are crossed that's the only one, and it won't cost me more than $150.

The pastries are pretty lousy; for that matter, most of the food isn't very good. And everything costs maybe 20% more than it seems like it should. And the quantities are maybe 20% smaller than everywhere else (eggs are sold by 10, rather than the dozen, and we bought chickens that looked like Cornish Game Hens). There is some great Swiss wine (surprisingly, mostly Pinot Noir), but a lot of it is pretty terrible, and only people "in the know" can find the good wines. I'm not one of those people.

But it is beautiful, and there are some lovely wildflowers and waterfalls and everything is green and the lake is surprisingly blue and there's still snow up on the top of the striking, craggy mountains. And one night we had raclette, which is wonderfully decadent and a rare indulgence even within Switzerland, and almost never consumed elsewhere, since it's hard to find 6-8 people who are all willing to consume their fair share of a 6# 1/2 wheel of cheese, melted over potatoes.

We were able to see some local friends, and spend some time with Julianna's family, and it's been a very relaxing stop. I feel very lucky to have such a charming, comfortable, foreign home-away-from-home. Mark and I had an impressive winning streak at cribbage, the local Rugenbrau is a light, tasty lager, and there are occasionally cow bells in the distance. And with a fire burning in the stove, my quibbles with Switzerland seem very slight, indeed.

From France, etc. '10

From France, etc. '10

From France, etc. '10

The Road Trip: Leg 8 (to Oberschwanden)

Change of plans.... we were planning on spending two days in Genova, and then go through Vernazza in Cinque Terra on our way to spending a day or two in Parma, but it is raining in all of Northern Italy for the next few days. And since it's not very enjoyable to walk around a new town, looking for things to do inside and worrying that you're missing things, and since we were only able to reserve our hotel room for one night, we left for Switzerland. Where it is also raining, but at least we don't have anything in particular to do or see.

We took our time leaving Genova, but after eating breakfast and doing internet things and going to the Genova Aquarium (which is evidently the largest in Europe, and features manatees and seals and things), and walking around town a bit more, and doing a bit of shopping for driving snacks, we got on the road.

I was disappointed to leave Genova, but Julianna assures me we can come back. The narrow streets are wonderful, and it's great to get lost in the old city. Soyoung highly recommended the opera, and nothing was playing while we were there, so we missed that. We had one wonderful meal, but there were at least three other restaurants we wanted to try. I didn't go into any wine shops, or buy any salame Genovese, and while Julianna did have "Trofie al Pesto" it was at a lousy lunch counter, just half a step above a Bar/Tabac. There are some very cool churches, with quite intricate facades, and a beautiful, Belle Epoch men's barbershop where I desperately wanted to get a haircut, with five stools and a 60 year old barber and (I assume) buckets of Pomade. Our 23 hours in town were just the slightest taste of a very cool city.

The drive to Switzerland was uneventful. They let us through the border crossing without any hassle (thanks Kris, for the loan of a car with Diplomatic license plates), and it is green and raining and pristine and lovely in a way I imagine is pretty typical for Switzerland in the springtime. The trip took a bit longer than it probably should have done, since I've started playing with the Prius, and you don't average 48.7 mpg over a tank of gas while driving at 80 mph...

Anyway, we're in Oberschwanden, Schwanden beiBrienz, CH until Sunday Monday. (Tuesday?)

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The Road Trip: Leg 7 (to Genova)

Genova, Genoa, Genes, Genua... I suppose every town has different spellings in different languages, but somehow Genova seems to have more than others. However, I may be getting ahead of myself...


After a couple of croissants and a beignet, taken in the wonderfully aromatic garden of the Palais Carnolès, which is the largest citrus garden in Europe with 130+ kinds of citrus trees, we were ready to depart Menton. Genova is only a couple of hours away, but as there aren't many coastlines more beautiful than the French and Italian Riviera, we decided to take the long route, as close to the water as we could get. 


The SP1 is a lot like Highway 1; it's slow, and curvy, and runs through the middle of every small town along the coast, and has a speed limit of 90 kmh (about 50 mph), but offers some incredibly beautiful vistas. The sun was shining, the water was that special, cloudy sapphire color that you find in the Mediterranean along the Cote d'Azure, and eventually the rocky beaches of the French side became sandy.

^^The Med.

<-France                                                 Italy->


After many hours of lovely driving, we arrived in Genova. Julianna found us a hotel room for the night at Hotel C. Colombo, named after one of Genova's famous sons... it is a very nice, though slightly "eccentric" hotel (our room had a random exposed end of an antique structural beam in the wall, for no apparent reason). Below you may see Julianna enjoying a reasonable glass of wine and some snacks in the Piazza delle Erbe, where we scampered soon after arriving, desperate for food and drink to tide us over until dinner.

Julianna took a bit of a nap upon returning to the hotel, and we wanted to adopt the Italian dining hours, so we didn't start looking for restaurants until 8:ish. The receptionist at the hotel didn't have any particularly interesting dining recommendations, so we set off on our own, and started wandering hither and thither through the very small, narrow streets of the old town. Through many trials and tribulations, including restaurants that didn't look very good, and other places that didn't have any room, and as we were getting increasingly cranky, Julianna was able to find her way back to one of the first places we looked at, La Buca di San Matteo. 

Since the wonderful meal we had with Kris in Brussels, we had about struck out when it came to good restaurants. The place in Bayeux had terrible service and mediocre food, the restaurant in Arles wasn't great and a bit pricey, there wasn't anything in particular memorable about Menton. But tonight, luck was with us. It was a small restaurant, staffed (tonight anyway) entirely by women. There were a handful of tables filled, and no one was speaking English. The menu was small, and mostly indecipherable (between us, Julianna and I speak French, German and Spanish, but when it comes to Italian, I rely almost exclusively upon words I've seen on the Bar Bambino menu). The tables were small and wooden, with white runners, the glassware was high quality (Reidel and Schott), and there were bottles of vintage Italian wines scattered around as ambiance and decoration (there was a 1977 Gaja Barolo next to me, and a couple of bottles from the late '60s on a sideboard, in addition to Barbarescos and such of a similar vintage). 

We split a warm octopus salad, I continued with Gnocci Verde al Scampi (or something similar) in a light tomato sauce, and finished with an artichoke stuffed loin of rabbit. Julianna was disappointed by her risotto, but the piece of beef she ordered was incredible, garnished with Condimento di Balsamico and strawberries. All of the courses were rather artistically presented, though without being at all awkward to consume. Along with, we had a 2003 Nebbiolo d'Alba "Agrestis" from Agricola Marrone which was lovely, and developed delightfully over the course of the meal. Finished with cookies and a glass of Vin Santo. A wonderful end to a wonderful day. 

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The Road Trip: Leg 6 (to Menton)

We were planning to get to Genova today, but didn't quite make it, after leaving Arles about noonish and looking for gas through the middle of Monaco.

Most of Menton smells of orange blossoms, which is really quite incredible. There are quite a few gardens filled with citrus trees, many of which are simultaneously in bloom and have mature fruit. Sadly, there were people around, so we weren't able to ignore the signs prohibiting picking the fruit with the level impunity I would have preferred.

The beach is rocky, like most of the Cote d'Azure.

Dinner was fine, though I ordered Carpaccio when I meant to order Tartare; a fine difference, but I was really feeling in the mood for egg with my raw meat, rather than oil and Parmegiano.

The hotel room was reasonably priced, and had parking, but was one of the tiniest rooms we've stayed in, and had two twin beds, without a good way to combine them. But it all worked fine.


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The Road Trip: Leg 5 (to Arles)

And in Arles, we rested. And bathed. At the very luxurious Hotel d'Arlatan.

Disappointingly, dinner was only ok. I won't bother mentioning the place by name.

BTW, the last time I was in Arles, I came in on the train. I remember being surprised by the way that French drivers careened around the narrow streets, without regard for pedestrians. This time, I was one of those drivers, and I realize now there's no other way to drive in Arles, when the single lane, one way streets don't quite line up across intersections, and there's no room to make the three point turn that would otherwise be required if one didn't drive on the sidewalk. Sorry.

And it was incredible to go from the rich, verdant, hills of the Pyrenees, through the flat farmlands to the east, and end up in dry, rocky Provence (though Arles was green and lovely). Also, the next time we go driving along small mountain roads, I want a sports car.


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Final Farming Aforisms

If it's broke, fix it. With whatever tools and materials are available. Don't wait for special parts if you can work something out right now.

There's the right tool for the job, and there's also the tool that's handy. While an edger is better for weeds, a chainsaw will do in a pinch, at least until after lunch when you can get the edger out from the basement.

After milking 35 sheep twice a day, I've come to appreciate big, thick, long nipples that you can really get your hand around.

Coffee with milk in the morning is bad for digestion. Salt is bad for the heart. Duck fat is the healthiest fat, far more so than pig fat (though pig fat is pretty delicious). 

The fact that I didn't shower for 16 days didn't mean that I was any more pungent or dirty than anything else on the farm. And my hair looked great. 

Lambs are never "as white as snow," since curly, wooly hair is a magnet for mud and poop, but they are pretty cute. 

Cows are intimidatingly big, almost like small cars that produce milk; if they were just slightly smarter, there's no way they'd let humans boss them around.  

Ever since I discovered wild herbs and wild asparagus growing on the hillside, I keep thinking that everything ought to be edible; sadly, it's not the case.  


The current "whole animal" restaurant craze doesn't begin to approach farm eating. On various nights during our stay we had: a rabbit that still looked like a rabbit, with head and feet still attached; tripe stew; veal five ways (over five days, after said veal was slaughtered) starting with cutlets and continuing to sweetbreads; mutton (presumably one of the former milkers); a lump of wild boar Jean-Louis shot the previous fall. And whatever isn't finished one night comes back again for lunches and dinner, until it isn't fit for human consumption, and goes to the dogs.

I held down a lamb while Jean-Louis assassine'-ed it; it is incredible to see the muscles moving and twitching, minutes after the blood has all been drained out, the head cut off and the skin removed.

Saturday Farmer's Market

We're traveling in France, upwards of 6000 miles away from the Ferry Plaza, and without any significant responsibilities on Saturday for the first time in four years, and what do we find ourselves doing on two successive Saturdays, but working a Farmer's Market stand. The first week was cold and cloudy and just after school holidays ended, so it was slowish, but decent. Yesterday was freezing cold and raining, and just as long and miserable as any rainy market in San Francisco. By the way, the guy next to us sells a fresh goat cheese, rather like a young Crottin. So it was rather like home.

However, there is a cheese truck that comes to this market, so that's something, anyway. However, the piece of St. Nectaire and the piece of Brin d'Amour I purchased were disappointing, and not any more interesting than anything available in the States. They were somewhat ambitious purchases, since there seems to be very little "fermier" production of those cheeses, but my hope springs eternal. 

It is strangely satisfying how Farmer's Markets are all the same. There are the clients who like to talk, and the ones who just want to buy their piece of cheese and go. There are people who become friends, and new people who don't know what your are selling. There are people who are looking for something that someone else is selling, and there's the sinking feeling of watching your neighbor have a rocking day of sales, while you stand twiddling your thumbs. There's the standard, daily trades for lunch or eggs or whatever staples you don't make yourself, and the impatience for the last 30 minutes to go by.

On the other hand, this market ran from 9:00ish to about 1:00, and the stall fee was 1 Euro, so that wasn't quite the same.

Cheesemaking

Disclaimer: Making cheese at Ferme Foures is a very different affair from anywhere else; it is not representative of general French cheesemaking practices. Also, they are peasants, and proud of that fact, so it is not for us to judge them.

Below is the recipe for Jean-Louis' traditional, Pyrenees Mixte tome, written by a previous WWOOFer. Translate if you are curious, but the cheese is a little like a Somerset Caerphilly, with a smooth, semi-firm "Pyrenean" texture but with fine, irregular pinholes, and a surprising acidity for a cow/sheep blend. Natural, brushed rind. A rather rustic, though satisfying, cheese.

                   These are sheep                                        This is a cow

We milk them twice a day, as Julianna demonstrates below

Every three days, there is enough milk for five or six 4-5 kg. tomes. There are only six molds, so if there's any extra curd, it gets eaten fresh "dans le maison."

Jean-Louis usually makes the cheese, and it's not uncommon for some of the grandkids to help. From left to right, Julene, Louise, and Guilleme, all help stir the curd, break up the larger lumps (but more usually just eat them) and generally get elbow deep in the cheese vat. Sanitation is important, but what's more important is making sure that the cheese doesn't taste like soap, so everything is scrubbed with water before cheesemaking. Barn boots get washed off outside, and the lights are usually off and the door closed to discourage flies, but that's about it. 

I'll just reiterate that cheesemaking here is a very different experience from most other places. Julianna and I also got to help with cheesemaking, though I only have a picture of her helping fill the molds.

                                                                                                     

The weights to press the cheese are 10 kg. However, there are only three 10 kg. weights, so the others require improvisation. There are a few 2 kg. weights, a couple of random metal rings, and a sledgehammer.

Jean-Louis very kindly agreed to make brouss one afternoon, which is a traditional, Pyrenean, peasant version of ricotta (or requeso in Spain). There's a pot of whey ("petit-lait"), heated by a propane gas ring, some random heat and wind shields, and sundry children. The ricotta was delicious with confiture.


Far from the cheesemaking I've seen, which is rather serious and rigorous, and arguably somewhat sterile, this is entirely the opposite. The curd is stirred with a wooden paddle, but Jean-Louis is up to his elbows to make sure there's nothing on the bottom. If the curd heats up too much, the cheese misses a salting, "pas mal." When hand milking, there's going to be hay and other stuff that gets in the milk; it's not a big problem, just pour it through the filter into the holding tank and keep going. Again, he has a very different, rather "laissez-faire" approach to cheesemaking, but he's no less serious about his cheese than anyone else. It has been wonderful to see such a "rustic" method of production.