The road to wine heaven isn’t paved at all.
On Monday we went to our favorite Italian winery, Terrabianca. Before leaving, we had a sumptuous breakfast, including many different cheeses, pastries, meat, and fruit. The girls had their first kiwi – and liked it (they’ve had opportunities before, but always passed on the honor). We’ve been urging them to try new foods – Maddy is the most adventurous, while Torie is the least. Maddy has generally enjoyed most of the different foods she has tried.
We spent some time chatting with two nice couples – and they’ll come back into the story later.
The front desk person said that we would not want to take the direct route to the winery – because it was a dirt road that was not in good shape. So she sent us to Castellina en Chianti, and from there we’d find a road to take us to the winery.
Well, there is no clearly marked direct road. I asked directions, and the woman (an American who clearly knows the town) told us about the dirt road that goes there, but then suggested we drive much further out of our way to take black top. The more she talked, the more she counseled us against the dirt road. The more she counseled against, the more likely I was to take it.
I’ll Take the Dirt Road. . .
Well, Carol and I had a disagreement over strategy. I preferred the more direct route, while she preferred the safer route. Occasionally I win. She wasn’t happy, but I was. We took the dirt road, and it wound us through some very stark and beautiful countryside. In the far distance we could see the snow capped peaks of the Appenines mountains. There were times I felt we were just sliding down steep slopes, but the car was under control the whole time. Stefano would have wet his pants.
There were huge country estates, some with wine, but many without. Despite the "Deliverance" vibe to the road, there were no cars on blocks.
We came to the occasional crossroads and had to guess which way to go (Tom Tom was not much help help). At one point, we drove up this hill from a crossroads. Nothing there. I hopped out and asked the two Italian road workers (only people we saw for the last 10 miles) where Terrebianca is. They discussed the situation gravely, and then pointed south, and said "una kilometer." Well, it was a little more than a km, but not much, and we pulled in.
The girls were not looking forward to the "wine factory" as Torie called it, but Maddy and Torie later said it was their favorite part of the dinner (besides swimming and dinner). We got a private tour and tasting. The owner and many workers are away at an exhibition in Verona, so things were quiet. On the other hand, we got the full tour with much time and attention. It was neat to see the oak casks, the bottling process (Laverne and Shirley-esque – "we’re gonna make our dreams, cause we’ll do it our way, yes our way, make all dreams come true. . .for me and you."), the labels, the cork machine.
A Random Walk Down Via Cavour. . .
When I don’t order coffee with breakfast, I get strange looks from the waiters/waitresses.
Italy is Florida for smokers. It can be 67 degrees out, and people are wearing heavy winter coats walking around town. We’re all in short sleeves, wishing we had shorts on, and they are strolling around in furs!
Of course, the restaurants don’t open for dinner till 7:30, so there are no early bird specials.
The best way to see Tuscany is to get sent on the back country roads by the GPS (which undermines its hatred for us).
It may be touristy to sit at an outdoor table for lunch at the biggest piazza in town, but it’s still a great deal of fun.
Eating breakfast in a 14th century kitchen is good fun.
Everyone we have contact with – including at the gas station, is quite nice.
I’ve had to do four conference calls thus far with the States. . .wonder what my cell phone bill will look like.
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