Giorno numero due - Il Castello
Jetlag being what it is I woke up about 6 A.M. and couldn’t get back to sleep. I killed some time watching first an Italian children’s program, then some English news (BBC), and then what seemed to be the German version of the USA’s “Court TV”. I don’t understand a word of German, so this should bring into clear focus just how whacked out I was at this juncture. But there was scenery to be seen, and wines to be drunk, so my intrepid self stepped to the fore and I trundled off to breakfast and by 9 AM we were on the road to Biondi-Santi Montepo`
Now when I tell you that this was a castle, this was a CASTLE - turrets, parapets, a portcullis, murder holes (for boiling oil, molten lead, or Chilean Carmenere - sorry, could resist that one) though no moat. Oh well, I guess you can’t have it all…but seriously, this was a castle built by a Sienese military architect in approximately the year 1000. To say that it was impressive is to say that the Pacific Ocean is neat little pond. The Biondi-Santi family itself is an ancient Tuscan line that can trace its roots directly back over 700 years, though they are not from this area of Tuscany but rather from Montalcino, a bit further north. For those of you unfamiliar with this name, the Biondi-Santis basically INVENTED, or at least closely parented the world famous Brunello wine in the mid to late 1800s. The Castello Monte Po` estate is owned and run by one Jacopo Biondi-Santi who apparently had falling out with pops regarding tradition, with dad wanting to remain close to it, and sonny wanting to be unencumbered by it. So, I guess when you’ve got more money than God, the solution is to light out on your own and buy a 10,000 acre estate with a thousand-year-old castle in which to hang your Borsalino. And so he did…
So we toured the chilly halls, saw the bottling line, the barrel room, and the armory - we met this guy Lance and his brother Dirk…sorry…anyway, we were treated to a comprehensive tasting of all of the wines which were, if memory serves, were all blends of Sangiovese Grosso, Cabernet Sauvignon, and Merlot. All of the wines were VERY well made with a notable balance and elegance, but in the end, I think that they’re a bit pricey for what’s in the bottle.
This day was a bit showery from the start, and as we pulled up to the small farm at which we were to have lunch, the sky rumbled. And by the time we had been seated under the rustic wood pavilion that adjoined their kitchen, cold heavy drops of rain began to tap on the roof. They served real Tuscan country fare: bruschetta (pronounced broo-SKEH-ta NOOOT broo-SHEH-ta) made with unsalted, toasted Tuscan bread scraped with rwa garlic and dressed with chopped tomatoes and olive oil, then pasta with beans, and a tagliata di manzo (a thin beef steak with red pepper flakes). As we ate we watched the grandmother make a home made sheep’s milk cheese that she stirred in a big, dented cooper pot set in a cast iron frame over an open fire. We were served, between courses, as an intermezzo, what is called quagliata which is the first curdling of the “cream” from the sheep’s milk - it’ something like a sweet, richer version of yogurt. We were finally served the finished, pressed curds as a dessert with some local honey. The half dozen or so cats slid past our calves meowing for an indulgence.
We piled back into our caravan and bumped down the mountain roads back to IL Tesoro. I had some apricot nectar and a little nap. That evening we went to a nearby town called Massa Marittima for dinner. This town is the latest to carry the distinction of “Slow Town” an honor officially conferred to two towns in Italy per year by The Slow Food Organization. This honor officially recognizes towns or cities that have made a particular effort to promote the “slow” lifestyle: real, organic, wholesome food made with care shared without haste with friends and family. The dinner was rustic - a bit too much so for some (the appetizer was grilled pork fat on toast) and the “tasting menu” portioning was a bit redundant and miscalculated, but all in all it was better than IHOP.
Many snoozed as we bumped back to Il Tesoro. I had been promised that morning that my suitcase would be waiting for me by the end of that day. I was disappointed. I washed my clothes in the sink, hung them up on my patented European heated towel rack, and passed out.
TOM CIOCCO
Honey, I’m home…with my suitcase and everything!
The old saw is that “Time flies when you’re having fun”. And that is true, but let me tell you, I’m back from Tuscany, I had a great time, and I feel like I’ve been away a month rather than just 10 day or so. No complaints about that for sure…When recapitulating events, I guess that the “I’ve got good news and bad news, which do you want first?” doesn’t really make very much sense, but you’re going to get the (read MY) bad news first. The always reliable (ahem) ALITALIA lost my suitcase. Che palle! So, I arrived at this BEAUTIFUL spot, after banging around for 11 hours in two different flying machines, tired, grubby, and with just the clothes on my back. I guess that I could have gone into my oversized bathroom and had myself a good cry, or busted a knuckle or two punching a 500 year old wall, but I counted backwards from 10 (in Italian of course to remind myself of my blessings), splashed some cold water on my face (my dad’s panacea), piled onto the Mercedes mini-bus that was to be our collective steed for the next week, and hit our first winery - Moris Farms
Moris sits atop a lowish hill in the Maremma (as the southernmost/coastal part of Tuscany is known). This is an area that even just 10 years ago, was a true backwater, and 20 years before that still had serious problems with malaria. So from the panoramic view from the back of the winery populated by farm dogs and scores of birds in large outdoor cages, perhaps not surprisingly, the landscape was marred by a recent contruction of a chemical plant distant about 10 KM off to the left. The somewhat chagrined explanation given for its presence was that it had been the product of a national/local campaign to revive the region with either industry or tourism, and in this particular case the local powers that be (or were) chose industry as a more reliable source for the filthy lucre than catering to chubby, pale people from north of the Alps. You live and you learn.
As can be seen from their site, Moris makes a wide range of both traditional and non-traditional wines, both white and red, from several different vineyard sites. They sat us in a typical Tuscan room setting, all whitewashed walls and rough-hewn timbers supporting the roof over the terracotta tiles. Groups of black and white photos of uncles and nieces crowded to watch us eat their family’s home-made wild boar pate` and ribollita. They said nothing, and none of the deer’s heads or boar’s heads, or the spread-eagled eagle stuffed and hung about the room menaced us in any way, and we left no post-prandial leavings for them to pick at either, so I guess we done good…
We made our way back to the hotel, and before a lovely dinner (the highlight of which was a hollwed out boiled potato stuffed with local goat cheese and herbs and a lightly poach egg yolk as a lid for the whole affair) I had a little walk through the vineyards that completely surround the place, taking great pleasure from the simple joys of the Tuscan countryside - lizards skittering into the cracks of a rock wall, the swallows’ whirling flights chasing green-bodied dragonflies, and the mix of the scents of wildflowers that wriggle in the breeze between the rows of vines, and the wood smoke from a distant chimney as the cool breezes rise, and dusk steps into view.
TOM CIOCCO
Tuscany Bound!
Sorry to drop this on you all sudden like, but I’m taking off tomorrow for Tuscany for two weeks. It’s a mixed business/pleasure trip - a week the Maremma, Suvereto, the island of Elba, and then Chianti. Post-tour, I’ll be headed to Florence for a few days to stay with some friends (I lived in Florence in the late 80s).
So take some time off from reading my blather (you’ve got no choice really), but DO NOT under any circumstances take ANY time off all from drinking GOOD WINE! I should have more than a few anecdotes to share on my return, but until then, be well. “See” you all on May 21!
TOM CIOCCO
Graciano - Rioja’s “man behind the scenes”
Rioja is undoubtedly Spain’s oldest and most famous wine region. And most people who know a bit about Rioja also know that Tempranillo is Rioja’s signature variety, it comprising the lion’s share of most Rioja blends, and in some cases, making up 100% of the juice in the bottle. To support the Tempranillo, the Rioja statutes allow for minority percentages of Garnacha (Grenache), Mazuelo (which is the local name for Carignan) as well as our feature here, Graciano.
In this age of convenience, many Rioja grape growers opt out of cultivating any Graciano at all. Since the grape is only optional in the final blend, and since Graciano is a fairly fussy, low-yielding variety, it’s easy for growers to just not grow Graciano at all. And don’t they do (or something like that) - the majority of Rioja wines contain little to no Graciano at all.
Graciano as was already mentioned, is low yielding, but that’s not all. The variety also buds very late, is susceptible to a vine disease called downy mildew, and the variety has a distinct preference for chalk-rich soils. - three more reasons to leave Graciano out in the cold…
Graciano, despite its seeming isolation and oscurity, is actually a fairly well-traveled variety. In Portugal, the variety trades under the name Tinta Miuda, Morrastel (NOT Morristel, which is a different Aragonese variety) in Languedoc, southern France, and goes by the name of Tintilla de Rota in the Jerez region of southern Spain. Graciano also grows in parts of North Africa also under the name of Morrastel, and even in the New World Graciano has a presence, namely in California under the name of Xeres, and under the good ol’ name of Graciano in Australia. Because of this scattered presence worldwide, it is difficult to say from precisely where Graciano originates, but the common wisdom is that its home region is Rioja, or at very least somewhere in Spain.
Vinified alone, Graciano is a highly characterful variety with a deep, rich color, a certain round but tannic mouthfeel, and a perfumed, nearly aromatic bouquet. All this being said, because of the challenges the variety presents to the grower, it is rarely seen bottled unblended…
…and just so I look like a big, fat liar, the only bottling that I’m featuring if anyone is interested is a 100% Graciano (”Wait, didn’t he just say that…”) from CALIFORNIA not Spain, and the wine is labelled as “Graciano” and NOT under it’s Cali alias of Xeres - What’s a boy to do?
This is the time of the show in which I usually proffer a few food pairings, but since I’ve only ever tasted the wine below once, and since you’re unlikely to encounter another pure Graciano ever again, in addition the always welcomed tasting notes (posted here as comments), I encourage anyone who turns up a particularly felicitous pairing with this or that dish, to post those comments here as well. SALUD!
TOM CIOCCO
