And I do. One of those limitations is that I try and stay away from hard alcohol (other than the occasional margarita or daiquiri – not sure those exactly count). But when the restaurant owner offers us a complimentary shot of Grappa as a thank you, it’s bad form to say “no thanks.”
The trip narrative is jumping around a bit right now – last night we stayed in Radda en Chianti at the Palazzo Leopoldo Hotel, and went to the hotel restaurant (which is just below the hotel and not part of the hotel). So, we ordered at the Perla della Pallazo restaurant, and the nice woman taking our order messed it up. For example, the Tuscan meats on bruscheta didn’t come, and Torie’s T-bone steak was much larger than we anticipated (they charge by weight). We all shared the T-bone and had our first courses.
I had the ravioli stuffed with spinach and ricotta, topped with truffles. Maddy had braised beef, Julia had pasta done Tuscan style. I just realized it – Carol didn’t get any of the food she actually ordered. The owner came by and suggested we cancel the second course and was apologetic – which was fine. We’d had enough to eat by then. I ordered a bottle of 1999 Buriano Toscana – a nice blend of cab and sangiovese.
Torie wasn’t feeling good – she had a headache, so she went back to the room. Maddy and Julia went shortly thereafter. Carol and I were pretty mellow at this point – especially after the drive (more on that later!), so we stayed and drank our wine. I went into the wine room, and called the owner in. We talked for a while about the wine, and he recommended a Chianti reserva that is grown just outside of the small town (1,000 people – so it is very, very small). I took his advice, ordered a bottle, and Carol and I had some nice time together as a couple.
At a point, the owner came by to see how we were enjoying the wine. I invited him to sit and have a glass with us (after all, it’s his favorite Chianti). We probably spent nearly an hour talking (at one point the kids came down – they were feeling better and wanted dessert – we gave them money and told them to find a place selling gelatto. It’s good for them in a town this size to wander around on their own.) Bruno (the owner) grow up in Abruzzo, lived for a time London and Germany, and speaks four languages. He wants to go into the hotel business next. He’s been here for five years, owning the restaurant. He loves Florence – and closes the restaurant for five months during the winter because the town is too quiet.
A note on languages: Another limitation I have is no foreign language ability. Zero. Zilch. Nicht. Carol is good with Spanish and can understand a chunk of Italian, but I never really had any skills. I took German for three years or so, but found it progressively harder. Heck, I have a hard enough time communicating in English (ask my three children what I just said, and they would often give you a blank stare. In theory they’ll grow out of that habit.).
Anyhow, we were the last ones left in the restaurant (going on three hours now), and Bruno offered us Grappa. Carol had been introduced to it on her last trip to Italy two years ago. Consider it moonshine in a bottle – it’s made from the leftover mash from making wine. It’s 40% alcohol, and smells like a Molotov cocktail. This is strong stuff – a Brunello grappa (and is a top quality grappa).
Despite the order confusion, it was a great dinner, and we had a fun time talking and drinking with our new friend Bruno. (By the way, for those of you concerned we let our kids wander around a strange town in a strange land, all three were in the room talking at 11:30pm when we came back in.)
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