I am writing from a hotel in Milan, bone tired from a long day of craaaazy city driving (Vespas swarming like wasps...OH!) and hot, humid weather. Milan was a shock to the system after Bonvicino. I prefer the latter. Instead of fireflies and stars, we have noisy buses and litter.
On a final bright note, our last dinner in Italy was fantastic. We ate at a small restaurant (seating for maybe 20 people?) called Latteria. This is a neighborhood place with Milanese home cooking. It wasn't even like eating out. In a good way. I had brown rice with cauliflower, raisins, fennel, and pine nuts, and a chicory salad. Brad had a delicious puree of zucchini and a cold chicken and veal salad. Alex had gnocchi and then spaghetti. We shared all of the desserts. The chef, an older man (70's?) stopped at each table: "Molto bene?" It was a nice way to eat: a rustic, home cooked meal in a big city.
So, that's it for the Gallivanting Galliens...at least this trip. Thanks for reading!
Friday, July 11, 2008
Day Nineteen: Mecca
While the guys were playing Foosball in piazzas and exploring castles, Carole, Audrey, and I drove to Bra, home of the Slow Food organization. We found their headquarters and were able to say hello and buy some t-shirts and posters. It was pretty exciting for Audrey and me. Bra is a cute little town, perfect for window shopping and people watching from caffes.
We met the owners of Villa San Lorenzo tonight, Clay and Tamar McLachlan and their darling daughter Isabella. Clay was kind enough to share an evening glass of champagne with us outside at the stone table. They seem like lovely people - we were sorry to have met them so late in the trip.
Tomorrow: Milan and then home!
We met the owners of Villa San Lorenzo tonight, Clay and Tamar McLachlan and their darling daughter Isabella. Clay was kind enough to share an evening glass of champagne with us outside at the stone table. They seem like lovely people - we were sorry to have met them so late in the trip.
Tomorrow: Milan and then home!
More cowbell
I cannot even begin to explain this, but here it is. Blue Oyster Cult, number 20, via Roma, Bossolasco, Italy. Rock on!
What's a lord to do...
So, you've got 14 castles and 50 estates littering Piedmonte, so what's next? Another castle of course! This one was added in 1340 (that is no typo...). The spot is Serralunga d'Alba, a top a large hill so that you can send signals to your other castles, all clearly visible on the surrounding hilltops. This one was designed as the last defense for the Falletti family, and evidently it served it's purpose as none of the various potential conquerers ever made it into the castle.
The main entrance, from above. The planks pull up and iron bars drop down into the door way. This was behind the first doors which were barricaded with a 6x6 sliding latch.
That is San Francesco on the right. The fresco looked new but was hundreds of years old:
The family seal, etched into the wall:
And here are some pics from Bossolasco, where we explored a church, the views, and the Foosball table in the piazza.
Each house along the Via Roma had a little plaque with a bird, presumably local. This one was the cutest.
The main entrance, from above. The planks pull up and iron bars drop down into the door way. This was behind the first doors which were barricaded with a 6x6 sliding latch.
That is San Francesco on the right. The fresco looked new but was hundreds of years old:
The family seal, etched into the wall:
And here are some pics from Bossolasco, where we explored a church, the views, and the Foosball table in the piazza.
Each house along the Via Roma had a little plaque with a bird, presumably local. This one was the cutest.
Thursday, July 10, 2008
Baby you can drive my car
So, driving in Italy...
You're never lost, except when you are. You have heard the saying "All roads lead to Rome" right? Well, actually, here in Italy, all roads lead to everywhere. In a nutshell, there are no straight roads here. Ordinality was not big on the planners of this country (or most that I've seen here in Europe) so basically any given road will twist and wind and eventually intersect with another road, which will in turn twist and wind you to your destination. This is a beautiful thing in the end, but it can be really frustrating because invariably you encounter a set of road signs pointing towards your destination that are miles before you expected to make your turn, or worse, seem to be pointing in the opposite direction from what you were expecting.
A kilometer is a kilometer, except when it isn't. A few examples: Lisa posted a few days back about the emergency food run to Bra. Here is what it looked like: As we approached the the town we saw the billboard: Domenica sempre aberto (a rare thing here in Italy). A little bit further up the hill, we see a sign for the market "2 min" ahead. Cool we think. We get to the top of the hill, pick up a street sign saying the market is "2km" ahead. Okay, whatever. We follow the sign a few kilometers, turn a few times in the opposite direction and hit another "2km" ahead sign. At this point, cursing begins... This happened again on our way to Canela, which was perpetually 6km ahead but this time we were ready for it and got a big laugh.
The road signs are great, except when they aren't. Once you've picked up a trail to your destination, it tends to be really easy to arrive. But fairly consistently, the signs to your destination simply disappear. The one consistent thing you can rely on is that when you need to make a move, the road sign will be there. But more often than not, the signs simply disappear. There seems to be an assumption that you will know that the "main road" simply continues. This turns out to be a really bad assumption, particularly at night...
What's behind you doesn't matter, except when it does. There was a movie made in the 70's called Cannonball! which amongst it's many racist stereotypes threw in a ditty about Italian driving: The Ferrari driver's first move is to break off his rear view mirror and toss it out of the car exclaiming, "whatsa behand ju donta matta" (like I said, really bad stereotypes...). Anyway, the only real flaw in this theory is that what is behind you, usually, is another car. And it is about two meters from your rear bumper. This is especially true when the car you are driving has a huge banner across the rear window announcing that you are in fact a tourist: EUROPCAR.
Everyone drives really fast, except when they don't. There are two speeds in Italy: >100Km/hr or 30. It matters not what the posted speed limit is. The >100km/hr crowd consists largely of BMWs (in France it was invariably a Mercedes Benz). This can only be expected. The parade of cars passing us on the left has been impressive; lot's of Fiat's and Alfa's and a few Ferrari's, including a beautiful 70's era Dino. More amusing are the folks going 30. Typically you will have two people in this car. What you see is two people, virtually facing each other in the front seat (evidently what's ahead of you does not matter either!) and a four, wildly gesticulating hands (turns out this one is not a stereotype, but simple reality).
The speed limit doesn't matter, except when it does. And the ONLY time it does in when the radar supported cameras are on. Yes, they actually do that here in Italy. They do warn you though. We first encountered this in France but could not decipher it, but in Italy where, because of the aforementioned driving corollary, they must slam on their brakes to avoid getting trapped we were able to see the photo enforcement boxes.
Driving here requires faith... and a good navigator (one of Lisa's many strengths!).
You're never lost, except when you are. You have heard the saying "All roads lead to Rome" right? Well, actually, here in Italy, all roads lead to everywhere. In a nutshell, there are no straight roads here. Ordinality was not big on the planners of this country (or most that I've seen here in Europe) so basically any given road will twist and wind and eventually intersect with another road, which will in turn twist and wind you to your destination. This is a beautiful thing in the end, but it can be really frustrating because invariably you encounter a set of road signs pointing towards your destination that are miles before you expected to make your turn, or worse, seem to be pointing in the opposite direction from what you were expecting.
A kilometer is a kilometer, except when it isn't. A few examples: Lisa posted a few days back about the emergency food run to Bra. Here is what it looked like: As we approached the the town we saw the billboard: Domenica sempre aberto (a rare thing here in Italy). A little bit further up the hill, we see a sign for the market "2 min" ahead. Cool we think. We get to the top of the hill, pick up a street sign saying the market is "2km" ahead. Okay, whatever. We follow the sign a few kilometers, turn a few times in the opposite direction and hit another "2km" ahead sign. At this point, cursing begins... This happened again on our way to Canela, which was perpetually 6km ahead but this time we were ready for it and got a big laugh.
The road signs are great, except when they aren't. Once you've picked up a trail to your destination, it tends to be really easy to arrive. But fairly consistently, the signs to your destination simply disappear. The one consistent thing you can rely on is that when you need to make a move, the road sign will be there. But more often than not, the signs simply disappear. There seems to be an assumption that you will know that the "main road" simply continues. This turns out to be a really bad assumption, particularly at night...
What's behind you doesn't matter, except when it does. There was a movie made in the 70's called Cannonball! which amongst it's many racist stereotypes threw in a ditty about Italian driving: The Ferrari driver's first move is to break off his rear view mirror and toss it out of the car exclaiming, "whatsa behand ju donta matta" (like I said, really bad stereotypes...). Anyway, the only real flaw in this theory is that what is behind you, usually, is another car. And it is about two meters from your rear bumper. This is especially true when the car you are driving has a huge banner across the rear window announcing that you are in fact a tourist: EUROPCAR.
Everyone drives really fast, except when they don't. There are two speeds in Italy: >100Km/hr or 30. It matters not what the posted speed limit is. The >100km/hr crowd consists largely of BMWs (in France it was invariably a Mercedes Benz). This can only be expected. The parade of cars passing us on the left has been impressive; lot's of Fiat's and Alfa's and a few Ferrari's, including a beautiful 70's era Dino. More amusing are the folks going 30. Typically you will have two people in this car. What you see is two people, virtually facing each other in the front seat (evidently what's ahead of you does not matter either!) and a four, wildly gesticulating hands (turns out this one is not a stereotype, but simple reality).
The speed limit doesn't matter, except when it does. And the ONLY time it does in when the radar supported cameras are on. Yes, they actually do that here in Italy. They do warn you though. We first encountered this in France but could not decipher it, but in Italy where, because of the aforementioned driving corollary, they must slam on their brakes to avoid getting trapped we were able to see the photo enforcement boxes.
Driving here requires faith... and a good navigator (one of Lisa's many strengths!).
Wednesday, July 9, 2008
Day Eighteen: Barolo
Today the seven of us drove through the rolling hills of grapes to the village of Barolo, home of the famous wine. We visited the Corkscrew Museum and walked through town, stopping for coffee and cake at a family run caffé. The town itself is lovely with cobble-stoned, windy streets, but much more beautiful are the vineyards themselves. Audrey took some amazing pictures.
Everyone has a dog, this one was barking at us from the roof!
Here are some of the pictures Audrey took:
Everyone has a dog, this one was barking at us from the roof!
Here are some of the pictures Audrey took:
The Bonvicino Sporting Scene
Little known fact: an extremely popular sport, known only to the inhabitants, temporary or otherwise, of Villa San Lorenzo, is commonly known as Urn Ball. It is played primarily by adolescents or adults stuck in their adolescence. To prepare for this sport, one must have consumed a moderate quantity of wine. This wine must have been produced in the Langhe region of Piemonte. From the distance of the dinner table, each competitor wads his or her napkin into a ball and attempts, with the finesse known only to urn ballers, to launch the napkin wad into the urn adjacent to the dining table. It can often take many rounds for victory to occur.
When it does, well, all I can say is that there is nothing quite like the victory of the champion Urn Baller.
When it does, well, all I can say is that there is nothing quite like the victory of the champion Urn Baller.
Cucina
While the kitchen at our villa is not as amazing as it seemed on their website, one thing that it did have was one of my favorite kitchen gadgets, the pasta roller. After visiting a local farmer's market I decided that roasted garlic and potato ravioli were in order. Here are some photos of the process:
Peeling the garlic:
The fun part about making ravioli is that everyone in the family gets to be involved (if they want):
We had some sticking issues, but they were still tasty:
Other than the occasional cooking project we have just been kicking it poolside for the most part. Last night's meal at All'enoteca was sublime, I have been eating amazing food this whole trip but I can say with confidence that it was my favorite meal we've had so far. Of note was an eel antipasta served on a patty of polenta bianca and rich cherry sauce (I need to learn how to cook eel it is so wonderful), lamb that had been cooking for 24 hours (how could that not be good), and the best breadsticks I have ever had.
One thing that is different about European restaurants is a tendency to bring out small dishes that were not even on the menu between courses. We have gotten red pepper mousse, melon with smoked duck, eggplant filled with blue cheese, olive and anchovy tapenade, and many more treats. If I ever have a restaurant I think that is a feature I would want in it. I have also learned the value of having really good servers. Having friendly, skilled waiters can take a good meal and make it into a truely memorable one. I'm going to miss Europe.
Peeling the garlic:
The fun part about making ravioli is that everyone in the family gets to be involved (if they want):
We had some sticking issues, but they were still tasty:
Other than the occasional cooking project we have just been kicking it poolside for the most part. Last night's meal at All'enoteca was sublime, I have been eating amazing food this whole trip but I can say with confidence that it was my favorite meal we've had so far. Of note was an eel antipasta served on a patty of polenta bianca and rich cherry sauce (I need to learn how to cook eel it is so wonderful), lamb that had been cooking for 24 hours (how could that not be good), and the best breadsticks I have ever had.
One thing that is different about European restaurants is a tendency to bring out small dishes that were not even on the menu between courses. We have gotten red pepper mousse, melon with smoked duck, eggplant filled with blue cheese, olive and anchovy tapenade, and many more treats. If I ever have a restaurant I think that is a feature I would want in it. I have also learned the value of having really good servers. Having friendly, skilled waiters can take a good meal and make it into a truely memorable one. I'm going to miss Europe.
The Sounds of Villa San Lorenzo
Each night while falling asleep, we hear the gentle sounds of the wind mixed with animal and bird sounds in the distance. Every hour three churches ring their bells, but they are slightly staggered in timing. It is a charming sound to which I could easily become accustomed. At noon, since the bells chime twelve times, the bells overlap at three different pitches, creating a dissonant and strangely peaceful song. At 5:45 each morning the approximately ten million varieties of birds begin their morning chorus. It wakes me up each time then puts me right back to sleep.
Day Seventeen: Spa Day
Today Carole and I went up the road to Senterio di Vita, a small spa at the end of a dirt road. The property has sweeping views of the Langhe and the Alps further in the distance. Marissa does massage and her partner Fulvia does nails. The spa is an old converted house with a lovely pool, jacuzzi, relaxation room, and massages upstairs. Carole spent two hours there in the morning having a French manicure, chatting, drinking espresso, being offered an aperitif, local cheese, and a bouquet of lavender. While she was there, a local family showed up to spend the day swimming and hanging out. I went up at 2:00 for a Shiatsu massage which is a lot like a Thai massage in the States. Marissa is terrific. Actually, they are both the embodiment of grace and hospitality. After my massage I lingered had espresso and then a little later after delightful, if challenging lingually, conversation, a little Spumante to toast the birthday of the women of the family there swimming. I could have happily hung out for hours, but the American self-consciousness in me kicked in and I felt compelled to take my leave.
This is their cuuuuuute puppy Priscilla, named after the film, "The Adventures of Priscilla, Queen of the Desert."
That night we went to Canale, a small town north of Alba where my dad treated us to dinner at All'Enoteca where we enjoyed an amazing, four hour meal of local foods. We arrived back to the villa close to 1 a.m. satisfied and exhausted!
This is their cuuuuuute puppy Priscilla, named after the film, "The Adventures of Priscilla, Queen of the Desert."
That night we went to Canale, a small town north of Alba where my dad treated us to dinner at All'Enoteca where we enjoyed an amazing, four hour meal of local foods. We arrived back to the villa close to 1 a.m. satisfied and exhausted!
Monday, July 7, 2008
Slow Food: Wild Cherries
Brad, being the professional gleaner that he is, immediately discovered that there are many fruit trees in the woods surrounding the villa including two huge wild cherry trees. The fruit are small and taste a little like Queen Annes. All the cherries at arm's length were gone, but oh, the tops of the trees! What to do, what to do...
If you are Brad Gallien, what you do is you find some boards laying around, lean them into the tree, the tree that is on a hillside and therefore hanging over a ten foot drop, and you climb up after the fruit.
One wasp sting later, victory!
The spoils:
The next step, pitting enough cherries for a tart:
Dessert is ready!
Ciliege Selvatiche:
If you are Brad Gallien, what you do is you find some boards laying around, lean them into the tree, the tree that is on a hillside and therefore hanging over a ten foot drop, and you climb up after the fruit.
One wasp sting later, victory!
The spoils:
The next step, pitting enough cherries for a tart:
Dessert is ready!
Ciliege Selvatiche:
Day Sixteen: Farmers' Market in Monforte d'Alba
In the Langhe area of Piedmont where we are staying, there is a farmers' market in the area everyday. This morning we went to Monforte d'Alba where we bought a lot of luscious fruit (peaches, apricots, and pluots) and garlic and potatoes to fill tonight's raviolis. Brad got to talking about wine with the proprietor of a small bodega and ended up buying one bottle of each kind they make. Here is the village and some views of the surrounding vineyards:
Day Fifteen: Sundays in Italy
We slept in today and hung out at the pool, thinking that we'd go buy groceries in the afternoon. Oops. Italy shuts down on Sunday afternoons. Brad and I decided to venture out and find something open, even maybe a 7-11 equivalent. Surely people have emergency grocery needs on Sundays here! We drove all the way to Bra, home of Carlo Petrini and Slow Food and found the only open place, a Wal-Mart equivalent called Big Store. Oh, the irony.
Here are some photos of the Villa, San Lorenzo di Bonvicino:
Here are some photos of the Villa, San Lorenzo di Bonvicino:
Sunday, July 6, 2008
Day Fourteen: Driving to Italy
We sadly said good-bye to St. Remy de Provence, our lovely villa, and its charming proprietors, Mme. Mauron and M. Dietrich. It was truly hard to leave it behind. Here are some final photos of Provence:
The drive to Italy was gorgeous and long! We stopped for lunch in Antibes near Cannes where I took a special photo for Susan. Right before entering Italy, we stopped at a gas station/rest stop. Here are the views:
Looking in one direction:
And the other:
Yes, that is Monaco. Get some gas, a water, maybe some Nutella and cookies for the kids. Tra-la.
Here is a view from the window in Italy:
Much of the drive was along the rocky coast, through at least 30 tunnels. Most of the rugged hillsides are terraced and growing olives and flowers. We then cut up into the mountains and headed into Piemonte. We had some trouble finding our little town of Bonvicino which doesn't even appear on a map. We called the agent who after an animated conversation in Italian with what sounded like a dozen highly opinionated people, she told us what to do: turn by the sign by the church in Dogliani and follow the signs to Bonvicino. A problem: there are at least five churches in Dogliani. Argh. Finally, at 9 p.m., exhausted and starving, we arrived. What an amazing place. I will take pictures today. We dragged in our bags then drove back down the mountain to Dogliani where we had pizza at a little family run place where a table outside just happened to be set for seven people.
The drive to Italy was gorgeous and long! We stopped for lunch in Antibes near Cannes where I took a special photo for Susan. Right before entering Italy, we stopped at a gas station/rest stop. Here are the views:
Looking in one direction:
And the other:
Yes, that is Monaco. Get some gas, a water, maybe some Nutella and cookies for the kids. Tra-la.
Here is a view from the window in Italy:
Much of the drive was along the rocky coast, through at least 30 tunnels. Most of the rugged hillsides are terraced and growing olives and flowers. We then cut up into the mountains and headed into Piemonte. We had some trouble finding our little town of Bonvicino which doesn't even appear on a map. We called the agent who after an animated conversation in Italian with what sounded like a dozen highly opinionated people, she told us what to do: turn by the sign by the church in Dogliani and follow the signs to Bonvicino. A problem: there are at least five churches in Dogliani. Argh. Finally, at 9 p.m., exhausted and starving, we arrived. What an amazing place. I will take pictures today. We dragged in our bags then drove back down the mountain to Dogliani where we had pizza at a little family run place where a table outside just happened to be set for seven people.
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