“A La Carte” - CHAPTER 2 – ITALY; a serialized weekly Travel & Culinerary experience.

TALES OF FOOD & DRINK

DIGESTED FROM 55 YEARS

OF INTERNATIONAL TRAVEL

by David Russell

My travels for Business or on vacation with my wife, were always rich with surprising experiences. To share them, look for the A La Carte weekly country chapter. In total, we’ll taste 42 countries, each with its own tales of Food & Beverages, Places & People. Know that wherever we are, there’ll always be a setting at the table just for you.

Chapter 2 - Italy

After leaving Paris, rather than returning to Southern California, we winged over the Dolomites to the Chianti Region of Italy, beginning what was to be a back-to-back holiday, this second portion part independent and part group tour, starting with a week on our own exploring Tuscany, courtesy of a car Avis had waiting for us at the Florence airport.

Because our flight was late, we broke a few speed laws to reach our Siena area hotel before dark. The Hotel, the Euro-Club in Castellino, Scalo, owned by a retired English speaking Carnival Cruise Steward, had been highly recommended and our arrival proved perfectly timed, checking in just as evening cocktails were being poured. Aside from my wife, Claryce, and I, the limited number of guests seemed to be all airline crew members and their spouses or special friends. Having seen the generous sized room on check in, we sensed we’d chosen well.

As to Food, Breakfast included in the room price, was nothing like the trencherboard meals aboard the French River Barge, but did include Juices, Eggs, Cold Meats and local Cheeses, fresh warm local Bread and Hot Beverages; more than enough for a day starter.

At our request, the Hotel would make dinner reservations for us at the highly touted, luxury Al Castillo Inn, a short drive from the hotel. That was for dinner, but during the day, we drove a rolling country road to lunch at and walk the Thursday open market in San Gimignano, a lovely 14^th century Hill Town encircled by ramparts bristling with tall “Towers of Nobility”, formerly 72 of them, 7 remained. Ambitious to make the most of our day, after walking and nibbling a bit of this and bit of that lunch, we motored to Siena to see its marvels, including the amazingly HUGE Piazza del Campo where they run that yearly crazy horse race. Many of its Gothic streets are lined with palaces and patrician mansions. The hanging coat of arms seen everywhere, is of a She-Wolf with twin boys (according to legend the Wolf nursed and reared the twins). Other than the Piazza, must-sees are the 13c Cathedral and Cathedral Museum, the Baptistery of St. John and Bernini’s 17c Carrara Marble tribute to St. Jerome and Mary Magdalene

From the hotel, after a needed nap and a bit of upscale, informal dress we were ready for dinner, driving the short 2-lane highway to the turn-off where we headed up a long hill to Al Castillo. Formerly a military fort, its location atop a crest overlooked the Chianti Valley in all directions. A truly lovely setting. Unfortunately, while the view proved exceptional, dinner was not. On a 10 scale, food written up as one of the best in Tuscany, rated with us a 7+; the food in France spoiled us.

Looking for positives, dinner did begin with a White Wine Spritzer for Claryce and Beefeater on ice for me. After a few bracing swallows, food began to appear, first, a small Chef’s Salad sided by a mini-dish of Penne Pasta covered with shaved Truffles and Mushrooms.

Then the main course, tubes stuffed with ground Sirloin Steak in its own sauce. Meanwhile we had switched our cocktail glasses for wine glasses and a demi bottle of the local Chianti which surprisingly offered a delightful bouquet and a smooth, rich grapey swallow, an ideal steak companion. Finally, we thought the evening’s most inventive dish was the Pear Sorbet dessert they served with frozen lemon bits.

The meal had all the right ingredients and could’a, should’a been great. But, Claryce and I both felt though the Chef tried hard, the result of his efforts were a bit over the top. Obviously, our palates were spoiled rotten, expecting a 10 out of 10 every meal.

Our next dinner of note was in Cortona, a 2 hour drive from Siena, as we worked towards our ultimate goal, the Hotel Augustus in Montecatini Terme, for the Florence portion of our trip.

Cortona is a magnificent hill town, 10 winding minutes up from the main highway. Arriving in the parking area, we found it filled with tour buses, so getting a room for the night was a challenge. Fortunately, we lucked into a clean, decent room in a hotel that spilled it’s way down a mountainside, floor by floor. But, it had a working elevator which delivered us to street level. Our first Cortona stop was a much looked forward to visit; the Mueso Dell’ Accademia Etrusca, which housed not only local finds but Egyptian Sarcophagus and Grecian Urns, plus two important paintings, “Madonna col Bambino e Sati” by Luca Signor and the “Three Dais” by Neri di Bicci.

Leaving the museum, we out-waited a heavy, but short rain storm which rewarded us with a gorgeous rainbow far as the eye could see.

Dinner at the Trattoria “La Grotto”, was for sharing, which we began by dishing out two servings of In-Salade de Mare, overflowing with Clams, Calamari and Shrimp. Twenty minutes later, signaling that we were done brought us another dish for sharing, Veal Scaloppini with pasta Tratanella. The wine was a cold, crisp local Blanco. All very satisfying. Certainly more so than the pomp of last night’s overly touted, Al Castillo. At less than half the price.

Leaving Cortona next morning we headed for the Florence Airport to return our car and end our independence by joining the incoming tour group bussing to Montecatini Terme, our to-be new home base; one of the most frequented, most fashionable thermal spa areas in Italy. In a town with a population of 20,000, Montecatini boasted 250 hotels. Its most famous spa being where Fellini filmed “8-1/2” Our hotel, Augustus, fit as if it belonged.

951 feet above Montecatini Terme, reached by cable car was Montecatini Alte, where during a “rockin’-rollin’ rain storm, we shared a great family lunch under an outdoor canvas, feet from the splashing rain-drops. Brought to the table on wooden paddles were the largest pizzas I’d ever seen, adroitly slid onto metal pans atop large table heaters. What an assortment; Cheese, Smoked Ham, Proscuitto, Egg Plant, Vegetarian and delightfully surprising, White Mushrooms, plus bottles of all the Red or White wine or liter sized beer one could handle. But, we were a total of 20, so every drop slowly disappeared. Naturally, we ate and drank a bit too much, but, it was all, oh, so good.

Being only 40 miles from Florence, each morning after lectures we bussed in to marvel the city, its art and architecture. Thanks to superb guides, we didn’t miss much, taking in The Bapistry with the Ghiberti’s Doors of Paradise, Giotto’s Belltower, the Uffizi, Donatello’s Cathedral Bronze Doors, the Neptune Fountain, The Medici Chapels, the Loggia of the Signoria with its incomparable Rape of Sabine Woman statuary, plus the city’s highlight, Michelangelo’s David.

What was surprising to learn was that with all the emphasis on art, wool was actually Florence’s first major export, not only shipped to other Italian cities but internationally. Wool involved many workers; sheep shearers, wool washers, dryers and dyers, weavers and, ultimately, tailors. So. wool drove the economy of that day’s Florence.

The second major export was Florentine leather, so soft and luxurious, even today it’s prized world wide for gloves, shoes and stylish fashions.

Sorry, for us, I can’t say our youthful, extremely learned art historians were as learned about food. With all the possibilities in Florence, sorrowfully, we enjoyed not one meal of note.

Making up for what might have been, on a free day, a group of us took a train past white Carrera Marble rail yards to the Five Ligurian Sea towns called Cinque Terra. Fish shacks abounded. The one we chose was bringing fish buckets off a boat as we arrived. Our wait, while the kitchen worked its skills was worth it, because we discovered Flickinger Beer. A rich, mellow taste, perfect with shell fish. First out were bowls of Mussels drenched in garlic and butter. Four dozen just vanished. In their place came a platter of grilled Shrimp sprinkled with crumpled, breaded, lightly fried Tomatoes. Finger-licking. And, because the owner insisted, we “had to taste” his Risotto ala Mare. We did. Yum! But, who had room, especially with newly discovered Flickinger.

To work off lunch, we strolled the lovely villages, one after the other, admiring the two and three level houses with their handsome wrought iron balcony railings (a bit of New Orleans) each with a unique, wooden door showing it’s own colors and family plaque.

Finally back at the rail station we learned our train was forty-five minutes late. In that time, four of us managed to devour two large anchovy pizzas with more of that wonderful Flickinger.

Sadly, that was the last culinary note of import from that trip. However, I found two other, earlier Italian Journey diaries, the first a combined train - auto drive Claryce and I took down the boot and into Sicily and another to Padua and Venice, with a short stop on the way home to visit our daughter and granddaughter in Scotland.

The later Sicily trip began with a flight from LA to New York to Brussels, from where we drove to Bruges for a few days stay in (in, not at) a hotel called Da Barge, a bright green and red painted actual barge converted into hospitable hotel rooms. Being near the ocean, we expected Sea Food morning, noon and night. That’s exactly what we got, our fill of right out of the ocean Shrimp, Mussels and whatever else was caught.

The final Bruges dinner at the Seahorse was the standout. Claryce hit the jackpot with Belgium Onion Soup (Like French Onion, but a bit more North), and large, meaty Frog’s Legs. My pick turned out to be 2 dozen Mussels cooked in Sherry. Talk about eyes being bigger than stomachs. But what overwhelmed all was the Garlic. That chef had one heavy hand. Maybe two. Mints didn’t help. God bless little favors, like twin beds.

The next day, was a planned shopping drive to Delft to purchase directly from the factory their noted blue and white glazed ware. That visit was to cover all our gifts for those back home (we had them shipped).

Rewarding ourselves for our thoughtfulness we entered a Ristafel for the Dutch - Chinese slant on presenting many small dishes, most, really, just sort of like the other, with the major taste difference being sweet or sour. T’wasn't worth reporting.

Off again, we zeroed in on our ultimate destination, Amsterdam, where we would board a night express train to Rome. My notes recall lots of rain in Holland, though we did visit the Rembrandt Museum, ate Mussels, stopped at the Van Gogh Museum, ate Mussels, climbed the steps in the Anne Frank House, took a canal boat ride, and supped on tough Lamb Chops (should have stayed with mussels). A beer from the Amsterdam Brewery brewed with Pomegranate and Wheat made up for the Chops.

Our Amsterdam “digs” was a 3-floor walk up at Dela Poste House. It served a tolerable breakfast of Boiled Eggs, Ham and both Edam and a Smoked Cheese, with toasted Bread sliced from a large loaf, a tub of fresh creamy butter & beverages served in smoking mugs.

Leaving Amsterdam, on our TEE train trip to Rome, we touched Germany, the French and Swiss Alps and the Italian Alps along the way.

Our Rome hotel, once the home of the Mascagni family, was steps from the Pantheon. During our two day stay, we did the expected when in Rome, a bus tour of the city, visits to the Pantheon, the Spanish Steps, the Forum, Coliseum and Circus Maximus, the Vatican to see the ceiling, Pieta and Vatican Museum. Dinner both nights was at a nearby pizzeria, one night sharing with a couple from Long Island, the next, a couple from India. Both nights, with dessert from a local ice cream shop.

Have you ever tasted Italian Pistachio Ice Cream? It’s hard to match. I know, I’ve searched the world over without once ever being completely satisfied. I don’t know what their secret is, but, I can taste it still. I don’t know what their secret is, but, I can taste it still – better than any Pistachio anywhere Until! Be sure to read the chapter titled Barcelona.

From Rome, we headed for Naples with a planned stop in Bologna. Why Bologna? Our LA neighbors had been there a month earlier and wouldn’t stop raving about a dinner they had at David’s. Who could resist?

When we told the English speaking owner why we were there, he said, “Oh, I remember those Americans. Leave your meal to me.”, What a lovely way to eat, sipping a classic Chianti with no agony of menu choice.

An Antipasto large enough to be a meal itself was the starter. Almost immediately followed by a platter of Linguine still sizzling and oozing Ricotta Cheese and Fried Tomato. So good, so filling, we were sure no room remained. But we were hardly done. Crushed mushrooms in brown sauce coated a plump Veal Chop which was served with equally plump Asparagus. Of course we just had to find space for that, then the Almond Flavored, home made Ice Cream dessert. Were we done yet? Almost. The host insisted we join him in a glass of something that had a smokiness to it, like a Scotch Single Malt, but sweeter and with the taste of Almond. No name. But, a nice meal end. Finally! I don’t know how we managed to budge, but we did spend the next hour window shopping Bologna’s wooden roofed downtown. What an unforgettable meal. Could you imagine eating like that every day?

For us, Naples was a sad story. We were back on the train, which like most in Europe was off on the scheduled second. However, this ride we were prepared for, toting a bag of goodies, wine bottle, cork screw and two actual wine glasses “acquired” at the Train Station Bar. If we were traveling First Class TEE, we opted for First Class all the way.

Our compartment companion was a woman who spent half a year in New York, the other half in Naples. Though she loaded us with a list of Naples must-sees, she shouldn’t have bothered. Our Naples stay was less than two hours. The hotel where we had our reservation swore up and down that we had no reservation, voiced loudly by a tall uniformed clerk with not a smile in sight. Looked like Lurch! Why the brush off? Why ever? Whatever, it was sufficient to prompt us to the Hertz right across the street. If we were going to do a Hotel hunt, be comfortable. Right?

The couple ahead of us at the counter were in a tizzy. They had just 15 minutes earlier driven off in their rental. At their first red light, a guy on a motor scooter reached into their car and pulled the wife’s purse off her lap. We heard them say, it contained their passports, their plane tickets and most of their money.

It didn’t take long to decide us Naples was not where we wanted to be. With windows closed, soon we were on the Estrada headed South towards Amalfi. Maneuvering the famed Amalfi Drive, fortunate not to be backed behind buses or slow moving trucks, we arrived in the area and found a lovely room at the Hotel Santa Katarina.

Beverly Beyer’s guide had a restaurant suggestion that proved well chosen, the meal beginning with a chunky Fish Soup, piled with from the sea Clams, Squid, Octopus, Shrimps and Fish slices. So much fish, the bowl had little room for the very tasty broth. That was meal enough, but we had also ordered an Antipasto, which became courses 2-3-4-5, enjoyed while sipping a Sambucca so good we bought the bottle.

After Claryce turned in, I sat on the veranda with a short wave radio, listening to American Jazz from the BBC featuring Stan Kenton’s Band. No, I did not finish the Sambucca, but I did make a serious dent.

One of the reasons we had come to Amalfi was because of an article read in Gourmet Magazine. It told of brunch at the Palumbo Hotel in nearby Ravelo and its 3^rd generation family owners. It mentioned a specific window table a mile above the sea. That table was our target.

At the desk we introduced ourselves, showing the article to the Seignior who read it with interest. Graciously, he offered to show us his hotel rooms which all faced the sea. Those not on the main floor, “spilled” down level by level, many with built in bathroom saunas. Though the hotel was lovely, we indicated we had a hotel and were leaving in the morning. By the time we got back to the dining room, the coveted table had already been taken by Gore Vidal and a guest. (Ravello, was his Italian home).

We invited the host to join us for brunch and chatted about the history of the hotel. Our light fare was a crisp Salad with a Pasta and a refreshing Rose. I expected he would host the Wine, but nope, our bill included three meals and the wine.

Since we were so close, we afternooned in lovely Positano. walking the shops and beach area, with a few nibbles along the way, then back to our hotel for a glass with our next door London neighbors who also joined us for dinner. Guess where? Same old, same old. Except for the Fish Soup, loaded with that day’s fresh catch. Delicious!!

Next morning, off to an early start, we again drove Amalfi Drive to Estrada South. The ferry to Sicily was our target with a planned stop for picnic lunch at Herculean Pastum. Awed by the temples, we couldn’t believe their magnificent condition. Pictures galore. Next, a motel for the night. Two hours after breakfast the following morning we were at Villa San Giovani for the Cars Only Ferry to Sicily.

From the Ferry, a toll road took us to Taormina. Lucking into a beautiful room at the Timeo Hotel, everything seemed to work for us. Timeo was situated on a long wooden promenade from which you could stare across the bay at Mt. Etna. Though it had been active, when we were there, not a wisp of smoke could be seen.

Our dinner pick was Restaurante Picipipia, where the opener was a heaping Antipasto of Cold Eggplant, Mushrooms, Olives and Octopus, followed by a dish of Spaghetti with Sardines and large Shrimp; an odd, but satisfying coupling.

An after dinner Sambucca at an outdoor bar facing Mt. Etna was special.

The next day our good luck changed. All 3 Taormina banks we tried refused to cash American Express traveler checks. Having only a bit of local currency remaining, we decided to head for the larger city, Siracuse, in the morning.

One reason for coming to Taormina was for its amazing Amphitheatre. Built centuries back by Romans, it continues in use today. Soft Mediter- ranean air has allowed it to retain its forum form and the unbelievable acoustics make it a prized venue for classics and rock concerts.

Lunch was funky. We took a funicular down from the promenade to Marrilla, a little port below, where fishermen became restaurateurs, using boat deck grills to prepare meals for customers sitting at the few tables on the dock landing. The meal was all-we-could-eat giant-sized Shrimp, a tossed Lettuce, Tomato and large Green Olive salad and from his cooler, local beer. The price at that time for all, tip included, was about eight U.S. dollars, fortunately for us, with few Lira left.

Which was the cause of the only other interesting food episode in Italy. was that our bad luck held. In Siracuse we ran into a bank strike. Still no Lira. That night aboard the night sleeper from Sicily to Rome, not a TEE, it made every stop along the way so hours stretched on and with no open night food service car, we were famished. Left no choice, at one of the extremely short mountain town stops, when the train door opened I hopped off and dashed into the station for a quick food grab. All that was available were cookies and one bottle of wine. With no Italian Lira, I grabbed what I could, tossed a U.S. twenty dollar bill on the counter and fled while the station lady screamed curses at me. At the train which had already began to roll, the conductor reached down and helped me up the steep steps, locking the door behind me as we picked up speed.

Seated at the compartment window, my wife and I starred into the Italian blackness nibbling our cookies and sipping our fairly tolerable wine, before settling in for what sleep we could manage.

In Rome, now with money in pocket, we transferred to a TEE express back to Paris, en-route to Brussels for our flight home. In Paris, we planned to spend the day with a French associate of a New York friend, who invited us to his home for dinner. The reason I mention this is because of the unique appetizer his wife served. I had this delicacy once before. My wife didn’t think it was such a delicacy. it was a line of six roasted Larks. Yes, they did taste like Chicken. Yes, we did brave our way through, picking meat off their little bones. Our reward was a main dish of a lovely well sauced Sole, with more than a hint of Oregano. Dessert, I remember not, except that it was some sort of flambé which flames out this trip’s culinary adventures.

Our most recent Italy trip, took us to Padua and Venice. If you take no further notes know this, know when in Venice, at least once you must catch the sun set from the terrace bar of the Hotel Daniella, which lays out a perfect panorama of the Venetian Lagoon and where golden hour heightens every touch of imagery on the Santa Maria dell Cathedral across the canal, while the early evening gondoliers, who work so hard to recreate the romance of Venezia, offer “Ol’ Sole Mio”. And Cheers!

It puts Harry’s bar to shame.

If your “Cheers” was with a raised glass of Grappa, put Ballamo on your Italy itinerary. Two hours by train from Venice, it sits on a lake just beneath the snow capped Dolomite Mountains. Bellamo is the true home of Grappa, with a museum, bottling plants and many retail shops for you to sample it dry, medium or sweet. If after a few sampling stops, you still have your wits about you, make purchases to carry away, or they ship anywhere in the world. Our favorite shop was Poli, where a young U. S. college student was earning her living while learning Italian.

Another thing we had to prepare for in Venice was the Alto, when streets flood from the canal’s overflow, a Venice problem for centuries. If they ever will permanently, successfully solve the problem is still a question? But, when last we were there, we experienced Alto on three occasions. Once, caught at the Guggenheim, which thankfully furnished large plastic bags to use as leggings. Another time on a street tour, where we walked hastily erected planks two feet above street level.

The third was visiting the Jewish Quarter and being met by a water impasse. It was food that saved the day; thanks to the delicious New York style Deli, Gum-Gum.

Prepared for the floods, their back door facing the canal was solidly constructed. As we ate our Chicken Matzo Ball Soup and Pastrami Sandwiches, with, believe it, a Dr. Brown’s Diet Cream Soda, we watched the water rise. Across the way, men in boots gave piggy back rides to women carrying shopping bags all the way up to safe ground.

As the water receded, planks quickly were positioned so we could reach our Vaparetto station. Boarding the canal boat, I had a former New York flash-back. Everything had tasted so familiar and yet, it was all so out of place. What was missing was a Hebrew National Potato Knish, sold across from more famous Nathan’s Coney Island Hot Dogs.

And yes, we did stop in Scotland to see daughter and granddaughter, but there the diary is blank. Scotland presented no food stories that trip.

But the Scot’s single malt OBAN still satisfied as no other. For me, not overly smoky, with just the right peaty bite. Though I must confess to Americanizing it, by (Forfend!!), adding one ice cube. Overtime, OBAN is the single malt I call for after having tested many, many,

If you’d like to repeat my trial and error list, sip your way through Wild Scotsman, Westmunds, Tomatin, Glenlivet, Talisker, Murray McDavid, Mortlach, Macallen, Dufftown, Cragganno, Craggganmore, McClelland, Laphroaig, Inchmustin, Highland Park, Glenrothes, Glenmorangie, GlenFiddich, Glen Farcas/Scotia/Moray/Keith and Dalwhinne. In smaller Scot villages other local single malts are all worth trying. But, to my taste, you won’t better OBAN. (Ice Cube or not).

Starting September 21 – Read Chapter #3 – Greece. There’s a seat at the table waiting just for you. ® & © - David Russell, May 2008.

Previous Chapters:

Intro and Preface – http://hubpages.com/hub/ALACARTE

Chapter 1 – France - http://hubpages.com/hub/A-La-Carte-Chapter-1-France

-

-