Wednesday, November 30, 2011

Getting to Know Barbera

Considering how much wine I drink, I know little about it. But here we are living in Italy—one of the richest centers of viniculture—and I aspire to learn more. Last Saturday was a great opportunity to do so, thanks to a co-worker of Jim’s and friend of ours. John, who does know about wine, had made arrangements to take a busload of folks up to the Piedmont area and visit the Alfiero Boffa winery near Asti.

Alfiero Boffa, the man and the winery, specializes in wines made from the barbera grape in the region of Asti. These wines, like certain wines from other regions in Italy, have been given a special quality designation called DOCG (Denominazione di Origine Controllata e Garantita). In other words, "we know where this wine comes from and it's good." We had bought some of Alfiero Boffa's wines last year, so we knew they were good. I just didn’t know why.

After a 2-hour bus ride, our group of 13 arrived at the winery and was greeted by Signore Boffa. His first task was to show the six of us women where the bathroom was! Next, he gave us a detailed tour of his operation, showing us the equipment and describing the process in this boutique winery, producing only 100,000 bottles a year, of which 70 percent are exported. High in malic acid and low in tannins, barbera grapes are the third most planted grape in Italy. The grapes, which originated in this area, produce a wine that is fresh and enjoyed at a young age (the wine, not the drinker), but as we were to learn first-hand, older vines can produce more complex wines worthy of aging. Alfiero's vineyards have vines that date back to when his grandfather started the business.

Our first sample of Alfiero’s wines was drawn from an oak barrel in the underground cellar. It was a blend that had been in the barrel for a year and had another year to go. I was told that it was a bit green, but my palette isn’t refined enough to know these things. Sure it tastes a bit green, if you say so. And therein lies my problem with winetasting. If someone tells me what I’m tasting, I understand. Left to my own devices, it usually boils down to “this is really good,” “I don’t care for that so much,” and “not bad.” If you gave me a blind taste of wines, I worry that I will chose the 5 euro bottle over the 50 euro one. Some people have said, "that's o.k., all that matters is that you like it." But I want to know what makes a good wine by consensus.

The hundreds of oak barrels in Alfiero’s cellar are from France. Storage in oak barrels helps balance the acidity of the barbera by leaching tannins into the wine and is a relatively new advancement in wine making in this region.
As part of the barrel-making process, the inside of the barrel is heated. This “toasting” of the barrel imparts a particular flavor to the wine, so new barrels are used to store Alfiero's blends, giving him another tool in creating a certain taste. Alfiero uses a new barrel for four years and then it is dismantled, cleaned, and re-assembled. These cleaned barrels are used for his specialty cru wines so that the “toasting” doesn’t interfere with the true flavors of the grape.

Next stop, was the wine tasting room where our group proceeded to get “toasted.” Alfiero set out specially printed placemats showing the vintages of the wine that we would try, and we all gathered around a table in anticipation. Alfiero’s wife assisted, and she and Alfiero began to serve us, newest wines first. We started with a 2008 blend and worked our way down to a 1998 blend. In between we had five crus and another blend, all of different vintages. The wine was served with great care including rinsing each glass with the wine to be served before pouring, as you can see in the video.

A “cru” is a wine made of grapes from a single vineyard. No blending. I found it fascinating that the same grape variety, the same vintner, and the same process produced such different tasting wines. When you are comparing similar wines side-by-side like this, you really get to taste the influence of the land
(the soil and the aspect of the slope) and you get to taste the influence of aging. With the benefit of having the vintner on hand, you learn a great deal more. Alfiero, who proudly stands at the head of our table, tells us that "this wine comes from grapes where the soil has lots of clay, so you'll notice a dark cherry flavor. This wine comes from grapes where the soil has lots of lime, which imparts an almond flavor. This is a 2004 cuve and you are now starting to smell more floral aromas. This wine was made in honor of my father."

After sampling eight of Alfiero's wines, we were shuttled off to Belbo Bardon, a regionally famous restaurant serving traditional food of the Asti area. I have to admit that the lunch was a bit of a blur, but I can tell you that there was a lot of meat dishes I have never tried before and probably never will again. Raw ground meat and boiled tongue, brain, and lung...it all tasted great, the service was excellent, and of course it was accompanied by more of Alfiero's wine.

After lunch, we were driven back to the winery to place our order. Alfiero served us his Moscato d'Asti, a sweet dessert wine. Needless to say, it was challenging to tally up everyone's orders and accurately communicate that to Alfiero. We loaded up about 60 boxes of wine into the back of the bus, and then the Merry Pranksters headed home. Two hours later, wine distribution in a dark parking lot was a test of our sobriety. The wine was successfully delivered and in the end we were only off by three cases. Not bad, all things considered.

So, I now feel a bit educated on barbera wine, and we have a few cases of wine in our cantina for some follow-up studies. With the barbera grape under my belt, we only have 47 or so DOCG wines to go. Cin cin!

Here are more pictures from our outing.

Monday, July 25, 2011

Sicily with Cleo and Caesar

The autostrada from our home to Genoa can be summed up like this: tunnel, bridge, tunnel, bridge, tunnel, bridge, .... It’s an intimidating 2-hour ride for me on my motorcycle. In addition to the discontinuity of the alternating tunnels and bridges, there is often heavy traffic around Genoa, or worse yet, there can be extremely high winds that funnel up off the Mediterranean into the narrow valleys spanned by the bridges. I had to exit this stretch of road one time because it was so windy that I was being blown all over the bridges. Nothing that anyone told me about Sicily (bad crime, dangerous drivers, floods of immigrants from northern Africa) had me as worried as this short stretch of highway from our house to the ferry. I fretted for days about whether I would be able to handle the bike if the winds were strong. But when we left Friday evening there was no wind and we had a calm, quiet ride in the twilight of a clear April evening. Two hours after leaving our home, we, along with our motorcycles Cleopatra and Caesar, were at the ferry terminal waiting to board for our week-long Sicilian vacation.

It’s a 20-hour ferry ride from Genoa to Palermo. Italian ferries are generally big and comfortable, making the long Mediterranean passage easier. Not much to do but relax and plan our trip, which we’d done very little of. Armed with maps and guidebooks, we drank our espressos and decided we would focus on the ancient Greek and Carthaginian ruins that are in the western half of the island: Segesta, Selinunte, and Agrigento. We also wanted to throw in a little Norman splendor at the Monreale Cathedral (the Norman’s controlled Sicily for most of the 12th Century), sample marzipan sweets in the medieval hilltown of Erice, tour the Phoenician ruins at Mozia (8th to 4th C. BC), spend a day poking around Syracuse, and climb Mt. Etna.

First we had to deal with Palermo. We were both nervous about our late-night arrival and navigating this notorious city with our loaded bikes. Many had cautioned us to watch out for crazy driving and nefarious types, but our biggest problem was finding our hotel. Jim was incredibly frustrated with his GPS, which sent us in circles around the city, a city bustling with Saturday night traffic and pedestrians. I struggled to keep up with Jim as he weaved his way through the city’s maze of one-way streets and alleys. At first, I was hesitant about the traffic, but as I cut off another car in order to keep up with Jim, I realized that what felt like chaotic, aggressive driving was really not that threatening. All bark, but no bite. I decided to employ the highly effective Italian driving strategy: If I don’t look at you, then you don’t exist.

After a lot of swearing from Jim who had the burden of navigating and a lot of unhelpful comments from me, like “Haven’t we been here before?”, we finally found our hotel. Jim went to check in and find out where we could safely park the bikes only to learn that a water pipe had broken, making our room uninhabitable. Not to worry though, because they’d booked us in another room...across town! Fortunately, we had better luck finding the Hotel Plaza Opera, and approximately two hours after our arrival in Palermo and precisely 1 km from the ferry terminal, we were checked into our room.

All of our frustration dissipated when we sat down for dinner at Capricci di Sicilia. We then realized that the traffic wasn’t as crazy as everyone had warned, the food was as good as we had heard, and the people were gregarious and welcoming. And in the seven days we spent riding around the island, nothing changed our minds about Sicily. The longer we stayed there,
the more we liked it. In addition to good food and friendly people, the archaeological sites are impressive, the terrain is beautiful, and the riding is fantastico! Downsides to the trip? A lot of unusually cool, wet weather and a sandstorm out of Africa on our last day of riding; no climb of Etna, whose upper reaches were off limits because of volcanic activity; not enough time to visit all of the places we had hoped to visit. We’d be happy to return.

And as for the trip home: tunnel, bridge, tunnel, bridge, tunnel, bridge...

A slideshow of our trip:
Sicily Motorcycle

Thursday, March 17, 2011

Battle of the Oranges

We should have read more about the Ivrea festival before we went, but a mock battle that pits neighborhoods against each other sounded like fun. From the crowds of Italian's streaming into town, old and young alike, we would have never known the danger that lurked ahead. Why are they all wearing red caps and why is that banner promoting death?

Upon arrival in the old town, we watched a parade that featured knights on horseback, floats with candy throwing festival queens, bands, and groups of people in fine period costumes. We also got our first clue about the mock battle: horse drawn carts were carrying fully armed warriors, who were wearing American football pads under their coordinated jerseys and who had face masks that a Canadian hockey goalie would be proud to wear.

The parade ended, and we followed the crowd and the noise. We entered a piazza, which was packed full of people and the strong scent of orange. Our jaws dropped as we watched the horse-drawn carts slowly work their way around the piazza one at a time. The dozen or so people in the cart and the hundreds in the piazza were engaged in all out war. The weapons? Oranges, of course!

Jim moved closer to the action with his camera exposed (veteran photographers come with their camera gear wrapped in plastic), but I smartly stayed at the edge watching the battle from a distance and getting good views of pulp-encrusted soldiers leaving the field. Was that blood or blood oranges?

After an hour of observing this bizarre event, we decided to leave. I said to Jim, "I want to go closer to the center of the piazza to see the carnage while there aren't any carts here." Just as we got to the center another cart entered. It was exhilarating to be so close to the action, but I finally wimped out and started to seek safer ground.
As I turned back once more to see the action, I took an orange to the left eye. My glasses were flattened to my face and covered with pulp! I grabbed Jim and told him I was wounded. He took me to the red cross tent where I received ice for my injury and the condolences of the medical team. (The other patient was suffering from alcohol abuse and was being treated with an IV! As you might imagine, there is a lot of alcohol involved to bolster the courage of the troops.)

Had I done my research before going to the festival, I would have bought a red hat. Almost every spectator was wearing one because it protects you from getting hit by an orange. My hat was blue.

Here is a video clip that Jim took. The gasping noise followed by laughter is Jim getting an orange to the stomach!

Tuesday, January 4, 2011

Motos, Race Cars, and Rain

It's been a long time since we took this two-week motorcycle trip, our first ever. Probably best at this point to just copy down a few notes from my journal and add some of Jim's photos. Even with persistent rain, this trip was a highlight of 2010. There's nothing like the freedom of the road, and one could argue that there are no better roads than in France.

Saturday, June 5, Home to Alessandria, Italy
Awesome ride!!!
Overnight train from Alessandria to
Amsterdam on the Dutch Auto Slaap.

Sunday, June 6, Den Bosch to Amsterdam, Netherlands
Belgium rider gave us a fantastic route along the canals into Amsterdam.
Camping Gaasperplatz
Sbirie Coffeeshop
Indian dinner

Monday, June 7, Amsterdam
Van Gogh Museum
Dolphin Coffeeshop
Indonesian restaurant
Amsterdam: small town feel

Tuesday, June 8, Amsterdam to Bruges, Belgium
Surrealistic trip along the coast with classic and modern windmills and lots of wind to power them.
ARGH...nothing works. Garmin sucks!!

Wednesday, June 9, Bruges
Fabulous Mr. Fix It strikes again! (Computer can now charge.) Lisa books a night at the Bauhaus Hostel because Bruges looks cool. Took a tour with Kie from Brooklyn. Not much info but very funny!
Jim on Amsterdam and Bruges: "I have hit my Holy Grail of beer."

Thursday, June 10, Bruges to Liseaux, France
Rode all day in the rain, fog, and wind. At the grocery store in Liseaux, the skies opened up. We rode to the nearest decent hotel and checked in.

Friday, June 11, Liseaux to Le Mans
Wonderful ride from Liseaux to Le Mans. Arrived at Speed Chills campground early afternoon. Set up, provisioned in town, and then started to party. There are serious car racing fans here, and they've all brought their pride and joys. Never seen anyone camping with a Ferrari before!

Saturday, June 12, Le Mans
3 pm race start...GOOSEBUMPS!!
Porche curves, Dunlop bridge, start of the Moulson Straights.

Sunday, June 13, Le Mans
Audi, audi, audi. It was Peugeot's race to lose and they did. German diesels...buy them.

Monday, June 14, Le Mans to Rochechouart
Waves of showers passing through with intermittent sun breaks and awesome roads. Is there any part of France that isn't beautiful?

Tuesday, June 15, Rochechouart to Sarlat-la-CanedaEnroute visited the prehistoric cave of Lascaux, a re-creation. The real cave was closed in the 60s. An amazing replica and tour. Arrived at the campground in Sarlat in steady rain. Internet access...all is well.

Wednesday, June 16, Sarlat
Rained all night. Rode to Grotte de Font-de-Gaume to get rare tickets to see a real prehistoric cave. Cave was bigger with more spectacular geologic features. Made us realize the value of Lascaux, "The sistine chapel of prehistoric art" as our tour guide called it. Talked Jim into staying another night because the rain was so persistent. Had a great lunch of duck foie gras and comfit. Rich! Delicious!

Thursday, June 17, Sarlat to Gorges de le Loire
Threatened rain most of the day with a few sunbreaks. Rode beautiful roads all day. Slow country lanes and fast newly paved county roads. Dropped into the Loire Valley on this unbelievably twisty, steep, empty road through the woods. Lovely!

Friday, June 18, Gorges de la Loire to Rochetaillee
More beautiful country roads.

Saturday, June 19, Rochetaille to Chiamale, Italy
Rained in the morning. Finished my book, "The Art of Racing in the Rain." Left around 11 am on dry roads. Some of the most beautiful riding we've done. Beautiful alpine areas, amazing gorges, and lots of twisties. Wildflowers to knock your socks off!

Sunday, June 20, Chiamale to Home
Woke to the rain around 5 am. Woke to snow around 7 am. Didn't let up, so we packed up and rolled out. Cold, cold hands. Couldn't have done it without heated grips. Made Jim exit the highway at Genoa. Couldn't handle the strong, gusty winds.

See more pictures from the trip.

And now the start of the 2010 24-Hours of Le Mans...