Barbaresco to Siena

The rain was still falling Monday morning in Barbaresco and apparently in much of Piemonte. We had a leisurely breakfast sharing coffee and travel ideas with David and Carina, a couple from Vancouver. It turns out Carina runs her own travel business in British Columbia and was in Tuscany inspecting a number of sites she recommends to her clients. (photo: Alessandra and her little girl Costanza, outside of Aimone's new enoteca in Siena.)

After breakfast Giovanna and Italo gave the four of us a tour their “wine cellar,” in effect their wine operation. (They produce about 18,000 bottles a year.) At the opposite end of their farmhouse Giovanna showed us the wine production and storage facility as well as a wonderful tasting room. Because the facility is built into the side of the hill the backside of essentially underground. And at the backside of the tasting room they have excavated a portion of the hill to demonstrate what the soil, the ground of the vineyard looks like – a very cool idea. This wall of striated rock consisted of alternating layers of gray clay and blue marl, and at the bottom there was a shallow pool of water. A fascinating demonstration of how the local water seeps, collects and then runs off. Amazing.

It was still raining after we all scurried around the side of the building back to the coziness of the dining room to say our final goodbyes. David and Carina were off to Cinque Terre and we were off to Siena.

We have pledged ourselves (again) to make a point of returning to Barbaresco for a more prolonged stay – there is so much to see and experience in this part of Piemonte. The food is uncommonly good in a land where uncommonly good food is a common trait. And the wines, Barbaresco and its more robust big sister Barolo are among the finest red wines in the world. And Cascine has a wonderful apartment that would do very nicely for a week.

I brought the car around, loaded or bags, Susie slid in beside me and we were off in the light drizzle heading to the autostrade and looking for Genova.

An hour later we began to pull away from the brutish weather of the mountains and the closer we came to the Ligurian Sea the more sun we found and the warmer it became.

We passed around Genova, through the notorious tunnels and bridges of the highway system in this part of Italy. In fact, the roads here are all either cantilevered, on bridges or through tunnels in Genova and this is not for the faint of heart. But the effect is nonetheless fascinating: you feel as if the roads are suspended out in midair, hundreds of feet above the gorges of high-rise apartments and industrial complexes far below. The Italians are geniuses when it comes to designing their roads.

We cruised southward on the A12 toward Livorno, past La Spezia and then cut inland toward Lucca on the A11 and then around Florence to the SS223 to Siena.

We exited at “Siena sud” and followed the signs to the Porta Romana where we found the Hotel Santa Caterina just outside the city walls. (A recommendation by Roberto Bechi, the hotel is also very close to another favorite spot of ours, Peccati di Gola, one of the best pastry shops in or outside of Siena.) We parked the car in the very tiny and slightly challenging hotel lot, unloaded our bags and checked in,

After unpacking, we headed into the city on foot, through the Porta Romana and up Via Pantaneto toward the Piazza del Campo.

During our trip we have heard more than once how the tough economic times have taken its toll on the travel and tourism industry here in Italy. Some things have certainly changed in Siena – businesses change hands, some have closed and others have moved. It has become increasingly obvious my website is out of date and probably slightly out of touch as well.

But that’s one of the reasons for being here is to bring that website up to date. Good timing to be sure.

On our way to find Aimone’s new wine ship on Via Stalloreggi (he had since closed Cantina in Piazza and recently opened a new shop near the Duomo), we stopped by to see Lisa and her English-language bookshop. She was there and promptly informed us thsat she and her husband (who runs the wonderful Palazzo Ravizza hotel in the city) had decided to close the shop and move it to the hotel. The reasons are clear enough today: tough economic times. The hotel had closed its restaurant business some time back so there was space available. The move is to happen by the end of April so we caught her just in time.

After chatting with Lisa – she’s always full of details about the latest changes in Siena --- we strolled to Aimone’s, noting that one of our favorite places to eat, Boccon del Prete was still open. A good dsign indeed.

A few meters around the corner on Via Stalloreggi we found the wine ship, “Enoteca,” but Aimone was not there. His wife Moreena was however and we chatted with her for a few minutes. She told us that Aimone was on his way to the shop and would be there soon. So we decided to “fare un giro” until he returned. (Literally “to go around,” “fare un giro” means really to travel around for a bit, rather like a passegiata but without purpose or direction).

After joining in the evening passegiata we stopped by Nannini’s for an aperitif (“negroni sbagliati”) and thought we recognized one of the bartenders. Susie asked him if he had once worked at another favorite haunt of ours in 2005, Bar Quattro Cantoni and he said, “Si!” We talked a bit – learning he is there on just a month-long contract tending bar. Hmmmm. Curious we thought,

We said “Ciao” and left Nannini’s heading back outside, wading through the crowds of Italian teenagers still out of school for the spring break.

A few minutes walk and were back in Aimone’s shop and met up with the wine guru himself. And just a few minutes later Alessandra showed up along with here little girl Costanza. (Alessandra, whose English is impeccable works for Aimone in his wine export business.)

We all laughed and talked, mostly in Italian, halting or otherwise, all of us trying to impress little Costanza. Odd behavior for adults but it felt fun. We then walked over to the Bar Quattro Cantoni for caffe.

A little while later Ale and Costanza had to go and so did we – the plan is to meet up on Tuesday for “pranzo (lunch). Tuesday is big day for us since Roberto will pick us up at the hotel so we can have dinner together with him and Patti and their kids that evening, probably in Asciano.

So we said “Ciao” to Aimone and Moreena and strolled back down Via Stalloreggi just a few meters and turned right heading to Boccon del Prete. We were glad to see they were open on a Monday, still going strong and it was also nice to have the owner recognize us. He had often given us impromptu Italian lessons in 2005 and his kindness and understanding behavior always struck as so typical of our experience with Italians over the years. Anyway, their food had never tasted better. Susie had beef and I had pork and we both shared a bottle of Brunello.

Good to be alive and good to be in Siena once more.

Paris to Barbaresco

Ever since planning to come to Paris we had worked in a rather haphazard fashion I’m afraid, on spending quality time in Italy, and in Siena in particular. We quickly discovered that the days of inexpensive intra-European travel seem to be over. Airfares for tickets from Paris Orly to Pisa were astronomical and we waited too long to get anything available on a night train from Paris to Florence.

So we rented a car and drove.

It was a chilly, drizzling Sunday morning as we grabbed our bags and headed off for the Metro at Richard Lenoir. We took the no. 5 to Gare d’Austerlitz where we picked up a car from Avis. Less than a half hour after arriving at the train station we were zipping along the empty streets of Paris looking for the Peripherique, the ring road around the city. A few minutes of uncertainty and we were out of the city and whizzing down the A6 heading south for Lyon and the Frejus tunnel through the Alps and into Italy.

An hour or so after leaving Paris the sun opened up, the skies turned blue and we left the grey overcast of Paris behind us. We had wonderful weather nearly the entire French portion of the trip. But could it last?

We turned left at Lyon and pointed the car toward Italy. Of course the higher we climbed the darker the skies became and the more the temperature fell. As we brought ourselves closer to the snow levels we closed in on the 17km-long Frejus Tunnel. Once we reached the tunnel entrance we disappeared inside the bowels of the earth and the temperatures climbed to nearly 30 degrees Celsius.

As we exited the tunnel we found ourselves in Italy – and in what Noah must seen near the tail end of his trip. Temperature plunged to barely 5 degrees Celsius, the rain was steady and cold and the skies seemed determined to prevent us from seeing not only the Alps but also the cars in front of us.

We pushed on and eventually we descended to the the outskirts of Turin.

Our goal for this leg of the trip was to return to Cascine delle Rose, a wonderful little B & B in Barbaresco. The owners, Giovanna and Italy produce one of the region’s finest selection of Nebbiolo wines, and in particular the Rio Sordo Barbaresco. (“Rio Sordo” means “deaf river” because it only runs underground and you can’t hear it. Aren’t you glad you asked?) We had spent two wonderful but very short nights at Cascine in March of 2007 and have always wanted to come back. What a better way to break up a long drive than a night in one of the world’s finest wine regions?

Although we got a bit turned around looking for the Barbaresco exit off the Asti-Alba road, I stopped at a gas station and asked a man pumping gas how to get to Barbaresco. It seemed we weren’t far and before long we eventually climbed out of the valley and skirted along the switchbacks of one vineyard after another. We passed the village of Barbaresco and two kms later found ourselves pulling into Cascine’s parking lot in the tiny hamlet of Tre Stelle.

We found Giovanna waiting with her typical warm welcome and after we unpacked she offered us a glass of wine. The three of us chatted about our lives, travels and of course Paris, pastries and food, always food.

About 8pm Susie and I braved the rain, got into the car and drove the 2 kms or so to the tiny hamlet of Treiso for dinner at Trattoria Risorgimento. We had eaten here in 2007 and have often talked about this place as a benchmark for the dining experience that appeals to us the most: family-run, no menu, friendly people who treat you like you lived just down the road. And the owner, Ilario, a quiet gentleman with an acute eye for detail and dry wit, was left with the not terribly arduous task of suggesting a wine for us: he chose a Barbaresco from a vineyard in Treiso.

We began the evening with an incredibly delicious mixed plate of antipasti: including a goat cheese with caramelized onion, warm whitefish with potatoes, and my personal favorite, vitello tonnato, thinly sliced cold veal roast with tuna sauce (basically mayonnaise and tuna blended together).

For the pasta course we shared wonderful homemade ravioli stuffed with asparagus (in-season right now) and ricotta. The pasta was phenomenal because it was so incredibly delicate – yet it maintained its structure. It was truly something that amazed both of us – and before we left Susie spoke with the chef responsible for making the pasta (Ilario’s daughter) who kindly gave her the recipe. Our conclusion is it has to be the flour. It always seems to be the flour.

For the final course Susie had succulent chicken pieces that had been pan sautéed; I had veal in Barbaresco sauce – both came with roasted potatoes and carrots.

The rain was stilly falling lightly as we left the restaurant – the visibility had cleared a bit though and cruising along the spine of the narrow ridge on our way back to the B & B we could see lights way off in the distance. A good sign perhaps that Monday would bring sun?

April in Paris, the motion portion

Susie Finishes Viennoiserie at LCB and Says Goodbye

Susie's third and final professional development course at Le Cordon Bleu came to an end last night. I spent much of the afternoon out at Pere Lachaise shooting photos but was at home by the time she called me about 5pm. She asked if I could be at LCB about half past six to help bring her stuff home before we headed out for dinner with our friend Valerie. Soon afterwards I grabbed my coat, my Navigo Metro pass and my camera and was out the door and heading toward the no. 9 St. Ambroise Metro stop.

After changing the Metro twice and walking a few blocks I arrived at Le Cordon Blue just as Susie was packing her stuff up and saying her final goodbyes. Earlier in the day she had received her certificates for completing the three programs from the new school director of programs, Juliette, and they were joined by two of the three chefs involved:

Naturally after I arrived I had to get a photo of Susie and her two comrades in arms before we spirited ourselves out the door. (photo: Susie, Stephani from Indonesia and Kate from Taiwan.)

And of course these three had spent the day preparing an enormous batch of goodies: beignets, lots of great stuff with croissant dough like tartelettes, bichons and lots of fried things. You get the point. But I got the beignets:


I'm telling you, you should've been there.

Anyway, we got home in time to refresh ourselves before heading back out to dinner. We joined up with our friend Valerie at Les Cotelettes near the Place des Vosges in the 4th arr. It's just a 15-minute walk from our apartment. The food was wonderful, the service friendly and the conversation with Valerie entertaining and lively, as always:


Tomorrow (Sunday) we're off to Italy. We pick up our rental car at the Austerlitz train station near our apartment and hit the road. We plan to spend a night in Barbaresco in the Piemonte on our way to Siena.

Stay tuned!

Wish you were here,

Steve

Easter Monday in Paris

Monday, Easter Monday in Paris was, as you might expect still part of the holiday in France. Tied in with the Christian component is the fact that schools here and possibly throughout Europe for all I know, are in the midst of spring break. Families have set themselves adrift all this week looking for peace of mind, harmony of spirit and an inexpensive meal for four (or five or six or. . .)

Susie and I headed out fairly early – well early for us at any rate – and got on the no. 9 Metro at St. Ambroise, changed to the 6 at Nation and got off at Bercy, still on the right bank. We had two objectives in the morning: first to find the Bercy train station and second to stroll through the little gem of a green space, the Parc de Bercy. (photo above: what some folks do while on holiday in Paris -- pull up a chair in the Tuileries and sleep.)

We had little trouble in finding the train station since it was just around the corner from the Metro. The station is tiny and serves largely as the conduit for the auto train and the night trains out of Paris. We wanted to check on the availability of a night train from Paris to Florence. Nope, there was nothing available unless we wanted to sleep with four other people. Hmmmm. Tempting but no thanks.

Scratch that idea.

So we walked back out into the sun and strolled into the parc, and through part of the Jardin Itzakh Rabin before heading back to the Metro.

Taking the no. 6 to Place D'Italie we changed to the no. 7 and got off at the Pyramides. (In honor of the Battle of the Pyramids in Egypt, so don’t even think of looking for pyramids here.) We walked through a quiet downtown Paris -- Easter Monday after all -- and eventually made our way to the always lively rue Montgoreuil for lunch. We found a comfortable spot in the shade at the Café Centre Ville. The food was tasty (we both had omelets) and the wine cool and crisp. The people watching was superb:




After a leisurely lunch we strolled through the slightly seedy green space of Les Halles. (Have you noticed the widespread use of the word “leisurely” in my blog entries? There is a very good reason that: It’s the key to our success in Paris.)

I always try to picture what Les Halles must have looked and smelled like when it was the city’s central food market. And then I try to visualize what it must have looked like long ago when it was the city’s largest and oldest cemetery, back before the rotting corpses started to get in the way of the growing markets on the cemetery’s periphery and of course finding their way into the basements of nearby homes.

Then I stop all the visualizing and enjoy the moment.

In fact we didn’t dwell on such matters but rather found our way to the one of the city’s most remarkable streets: rue de Rivoli. We joined the tens of thousands of tourists crammed beneath the portico on the warm, sunny Monday afternoon. Although most shops in Paris were closed, not the ones along this stretch of the city's Golden Tourist Trade route -- every color (usually bad) and size of T-shirts and sweatshirts ("I Heart Paris," "University of Paris," "Sex Instructor," etc.) to rhinestone letters spelling "Paris" on women's thongs to Eiffel towers in all sizes. This is the place to find that special something for folks you really don't like.

And yet this is the same street where you’ll find some of the city’s swankest hotels: like the Hotel Meurice, which served as the German headquarters during the Second World War (no plaque to note this fact as you might imagine). You’ll also find Angelina’s beneath these porticos. Home of the city’s best hot chocolate, Angelina's may seem trendy or touristy but trust me the place is comfortable and you can catch your breath here and enjoy some truly fine and reasonably priced sweets as well.

Rue de Rivoli is also where you'll find two of the largest new English-language bookshops in the city: Galignani’s (which also has a very large selection of French language books) and W. H. Smith (motto: “We have the largest selection of over-priced books in the city”).

(Sorry Marie I know you like W. H. Smith but get this – a book by Lucy Moore entitled Liberty: The Life and Times of Six Women of Revolutionary France retails in the US for $16.95, for under £9 in the UK and at Galignani’s for €16.50. At W. H. Smith the same book sold for more than €35!)

Nearing the Place de la Concorde we decided to swing out from under the portico, cross the street (“rue”) and into the Tuileries where parents were helping their kids get settled onto ponies for rides, for photos, for sale, I have no idea.

From one end of the Tuileries to the other, from the Place de la Concorde to the Louvre, the crowds swarmed. Not a chair was open, not a bench unoccupied:




After we reached the Louvre we go on the nearby no. 1 Metro and then off at Bastille. We walked home and relaxed before getting the call from Marie.

About half-past six we caught up with Marie at a café next to the Square de la Roquette, which had once been part of an enormous women’s prison and is now some of the most beautiful greenery in the 11th arr. She had just shown a couple of friends around some of the special haunts at the nearby Pere Lachaise and the three of us were headed out for dinner.

We walked up to the no. 2 at Philippe Auguste, switched to the 6 at Place d’Italie (“place d’It” as Marie called it) and walked down Avenue des Gobelins to Blvd Francois Arago. We were looking for a particular Senegalese restaurant, Chez Blondin. I had come across this place is an article written by Clotilde Dusoulier for a recent issue of Budget Travel magazine. Anyway we soon found the restaurant but as often happens during a holiday it was closed (and it shouldn’t have been normally).

So it was back to Avenue des Gobelins but this time we turned north into the 5th arr. and walked straight to Les Delices d’Aphrodite (4 rue de Candolle). Susie and I had one of our most memorable meals here last September. And we weren't we disappointed this time. The three of us got the assiette degustation, an incredibly scrumptious and flavorful tasting menu, matched with a wonderful rose wine from the Aegean. The service was again efficient, courteous and very friendly.

After dinner we said au revoir to Marie – she was off to stroll through Paris to the Metro at Chatelet and home to the northern edge of the city. Susie and I headed off for the no. 5 Metro at Saint Marcel and off at Bastille and a short walk home past Leon Blum. Marie's quite right: there's really nothing quite like strolling this city at night.

Wish you had been here,

Steve