Everything is Illuminati.

Last Wednesday we were hosted by the Illuminati wine family. We stayed an extra couple of nights in the wintery Le Marche region, just to attend the work organised appointment. We met up with Stefano Illuminati around midday for a tour of their facilities, a tasting and what was described as a lunch that was to be “nothing special” in the organising pre-emails.

The winery and vines are actually in the Abruzzo region which borders Le Marche to the south. Stefano sheparded us into his Porsche for a tour of their expansive vineyards, pointing out the different vineyards (Montepulciano being the star, the white Pecorino an up and comer), trellising techniques (they use both espalier and canopy styles) and described with ardour how the business has grown since his great grandfather established it over one hundred years earlier.

Discussing his forefathers brought Stefano to a more surprising topic of discussion. His and his peers worry for their children. He told us that unemployment in Italy is an escalating problem and quite movingly expressed his concern for the future Italy and how it will be for his two boys. He told us how lucky we were to be born in Australia, we shrugged our shoulders and half heartedly agreed.

His family have been doing business in Australia since 1987, he told us. “My father loves your country.” On Dino Illuminati’s first visit back in the 80s, he was determined to find a long lost friend. He arrived in Adelaide (he knew that much) with only a surname and the name of the Italian town where they had grown up.  He found the man, much older, bed ridden and suffering from Parkinson’s.

Finding his long absent friend, who had not quite found the better life in Australia, had emblazoned Dino with a curious infatuation; “Viva Australia!!!” he said to us later when we met him. Indeed.

Our “nothing special” lunch with Stefano was an absolute joy. He took us to La Sosta, a local trattoria run by friends of the Illuminati’s. As we were seated, he disappeared, only to come back moments later, having ordered our lunch with nonna in the kitchen. The menu they had created for us featured fresh local produce.

For antipasti we had fried Mozzarella (OMG), Ascolano Olives, a cow and sheep’s milk pecorino (cheese this time), locally made Prosciutto crudo and bruschetta (toast) with peppery green extra virgin olive oil drizzled over the top. The olives were particularly interesting; large and green, they were filled with a mix of cooked meat and herbs, then crumbed and fried. Very moreish, they went superbly with Illuminati’s sparkling white brut, a mix of Trebbiano and Verdicchio.

For Primi Piatti (“first plate” in Italian, most usually a pasta dish) we had two pastas, both served from the cooking pot on a trolley beside the table (lovely touch). The first was tagliatelle with FRESH porcini; the flavour was almost too intense for my taste, “almost” because the chef had very cleverly added just enough finely chopped parsley to contrast the pungent mushroom tang. The second pasta was equally delicious and simple; spaghetti with a light tomato and sausage meat sauce.

By this time we were in serious trouble, make no mistake when you hear someone say that the Italians are a generous people. Each of the dishes so far would have been enough to be considered a full meal by our normal “at home” standard.

The Secondi Piatti was a mixed grill, veal, lamb chops, sausage, pork ribs and pork belly, well seasoned and cooked to perfection. They were served with a simple cabbage and broad bean side dish, almost like a mash and delicately flavoured with garlic.

Well into our food coma, dessert is but a blurry memory to me now. I think it was trifle-esque, with a gaudy rose pink layer. It was the specialty of the house, so it must have been good.

Our meal was accompanied by the bottles left over from our earlier tasting. My favourite was the Pieluni, 100% Montepulciano; C – vibrant, dark, light-catching crimson, N – sweet black pepper, cherry and a hint of treacle, P – rich and velvety, elegant oak.

I will endeavour to blog again soon, tomorrow perhaps.

Until then. xo

Tainted love.

I am sure that we are sleeping on the hardest bed in Tuscany. It feels like stone bedrock covered with a sheet. For the last six nights we have woken up, time and time again throughout the night with achey limbs and clickey joints. This bed is essentially an old age virtual reality synthesiser.

Now I don’t want to whinge too much, but the bed has tainted our week in Tuscany. When I asked Michael what he thought I should blog about, he yawned. I yawned back. We just aren’t getting enough kip.

We thought we’d found a solution to my travel sickness on Wednesday. I would take the wheel. I was naively convinced that it couldn’t be all that difficult.

I only hit one thing.

Just a car; side mirror to side mirror, no damage done (to our car, I was too traumatised to stop) but I still hear Mick’s voice sometimes... “you’re too close, too close! TOO CLOSE!!!” *THUNK*

At least it wasn’t a puppy, right?

So, yes we are in Tuscany, staying in an otherwise lovely villa just outside of Chianti. The region is home to dirt roads, terracotta sunsets, Florence, loud Americans on vaca and a vast and mouth-watering selection of local food and wine specialities.

One of these I experienced last night. Out to dinner in Siena, I ordered Papardelle con Tartufo (it’s white truffle season FYI). As the dish was served Mick and I locked eyes and exchanged a “wow that’s a whole lot of truffle” look. Then the waiter returned to the table, at first we thought he had a parmesan grater but he proceeded to micro-plane sliver after sliver of whole fresh truffle over the already monumental pile. We had to stifle our smuggles (smug giggles) as we guestimated what the dish would cost to prepare and purchase in Melbourne.

I believe I acquired a taste for them way back when I first visited Tuscany with Ma & Pa. Excerpt from E-vine 1993.


Tuscan cheese on toast
A villa in Greve in Chianti. Our hosts, the Anichinis, invited us to dinner and offered an entrée of what looked like grilled cheese on toast. Absolutely delicious, and my ravenous eight year old daughter scoffed three or four pieces in a couple of minutes. I asked Signora Anichini for the recipe. 'First you lightly grill the bread, then drizzle a little olive oil on it, then you add generous shavings of fresh white truffles..." 

We drank:

Castel Giocondo, Brunello di Montalcino 2005. C- brick edge, heart of ruby red, N- anise and red capsicum, P- dry and velvety with just ripe strawberries and a herbal finish

Salute!

We have a half bottle of Gaja Sperss 2000 breathing downstairs, I’m wrapped in a brand new cashmere (the real stuff) shawl, we’ve just been sipping Prosecco on the banks of Lake Como and I'm about to tell you how we are having a difficult time splurging. After scrimping and saving for so long, we are finding it extremely difficult to spend our money. Truly.

I guess that means our parents (and our Dolomite Accounts) trained us well.

Today’s wine and shawl aside, our trip has been riddled with moments of indecision. Pros and cons weighed and in most instances the object of desire being left behind (and quickly forgotten) for the next cashed up tourist. I think we are trying to find a balance.

We left Burgundy on Sunday morning and drove through Lyon towards The French Alps. We spent the night at a chalet style apartment with divine views of Mont Blanc.

The mountain seemed to make a mockery of Australia’s cherished peaks. Epic is overused in current vocabulary but I’ll use it here with no hesitation. Straining our necks skywards we could just capture the sheer immensity of the Mountain. For me, it made the scale of Everest and K2 inconceivable. Everywhere we turned cried out to be photographed and framed. It’s like we had view-finder goggles on. The valleys were scattered with timber framed alpine villages, some rising steeply up the neighbouring mountain sides. Milky green glacial rivers and streams ran along the motorways, often fed from waterfalls cascading towards the valley floor.

It’s a shame the weather gods did not favour us. Thick cloud cover continually rolled through the Alps, hiding the mountains and villages. Call me paranoid but this seemed to happen every time I got the camera ready.

After watching the sun rise from behind the mountain we gathered up our belongings and drove into Italy.

We are starting our Italian sojourn in Mezzegra, a small hillside town in Lombardia, on the west bank of Lake Como. Our townhouse is on a very steep property with its own olive orchard. Built in 1690, we are told it was where Mussolini stayed the night before he was shot.

Continuing a theme, we asked our gracious hosts Natalie and Mario where we should have dinner. As it was Monday and most restaurants were closed she suggested a local Trattoria. She called on our behalf and made us a booking. Trattoria Nana is the kind of local eatery you wish was just around your block. Fresh, cheap and authentic. As soon as we’d scoured the menu, picking up on the dishes Natalie recommended we try, we were already deciding to book for another evening.

We shared an entree to start, Pizzoccheri; a highlight of our trip thus far. As the smell of butter wafted towards us, we knew we were in for treat. Homemade buckwheat pasta, chard stalks cut fine, plenty of sage and potato cooked until soft all combined with an oozy, buttery and cheesy sauce. Wasn’t much to look at, but it tasted seriously good. Wash that down with a glass of vino di casa (Bonarda @ €4 for a half litre) and we were well on our way to foodie nirvana.

For mains we shared Coniglio (rabbit) and Cotechino (slow cooked pork sausage) and for dessert Tiramisu and Fromaggi Misti. Molto molto benne! The cheeses are made by the family who run the restaurant, some of the best I’ve tasted. Of the three served our pick was a three day old sheep’s cheese that you eat dressed with a little extra virgin olive oil. It was zesty, had a fine crumb and really made the local oil sing.

It’s dawned on me that those of you who receive the blog via email, might not be enjoying our photo stream. Click the link to the blog home page to have a look.

Over and out.