Travel Journals"To enjoy good friends, good food, good
wine, this is it!" "Do you have a passport?" It wasn't atypical for people to ask me surprising questions at work. I'd had a customer ask me the night before for a pepperoni pizza with pineapple and Canadian bacon with a side of ketchup. I'd had another customer ask why their food runner announced "Hail Caesar!" when delivering their Caesar salads. I rarely paid much thought to these unusual questions. But when my general manager asked if I had a passport, I must admit that I was intrigued. "Uh, yeah." She lit up when I told her that I did, and a mischievous grin spread across her face. "Good, because you're going to Italy." I had been the front of house manager at the Tutta Bella on Stone Way for about a month and a half when I found out that I would be going to Southern Italy for what would be the best experience of my life. Back in December of 2005, I had helped open Stone Way as a server. I love the restaurant industry, and I remember how excited I was to be part of a company that practiced a true passion for bringing an authentic Italian dining experience to Seattle. In order to prepare for the opening, we had tastings of the creamy fior di latte mozzarella, the sweet San Marzano tomato and the soft yet crispy dough that is distinctly Neapolitan. While I appreciated these ingredients, what really caught my attention were the wines we tasted. I was so impressed by the complexity of the Italian wine industry and the unique flavors present in each wine. When I became a manager in May of the following year, my enthusiasm for wine had only grown, particularly my love for anything Italian. I committed myself to learning as much as I could about Italian varietals and wine-producing regions, spending my downtime at work soaking up the knowledge of Joseph Bastianich and David Lynch in Vino Italiano (the bible of Italian wines). To then find out that I would be going to Italy for ten days with a collection of restaurateurs and wine professionals to visit winemakers was absolutely incredible. Stepping off the plane on the island of Sardinia, I was exhausted. I couldn't wait to make my way to some bed, any bed, and collapse. That, however, was not in the cards. After wandering blindly around the airport for a while, I was greeted by my group. At the time, I didn't quite know what to make of them. I was the youngest by far. Would they take me seriously? Would we click? These concerns quickly dissipated once we crawled on the bus and were introduced to the lovely and charming Francesca, daughter of Francesco and proprietor of the Argiolas winery located just north of Cagliari. We were all entranced by her radiating warmth. She asked each of us about who we were and how we had come to be on the trip. Most of the group worked on the import or distribution side. Francesca seemed genuinely interested in each of our lives and was gleeful when we talked about wine. She finally asked if any of us were interested in a light lunch. Hungry? I knew I was tired, but I figured that a quick bite couldn't hurt before my long rest. We arrived at the hotel reserved for us by the Argiolas family and settled in at a giant table located in their restaurant. Not only was this the most intense "light" lunch imaginable, but also the meal was unlike any that I have ever had. Adjacent to our dining area was a smaller table that held the entire collection of Argiolas wines. We ended up trying the majority of these wines during lunch. In fact, I think that we were served pretty much everything during lunch. First out was a sampling of Pecorino Romano, salami, prosciutto, carta da musica (flatbread), marinated artichoke hearts and olives. Next came freshly made ravioli and gnocchiette with sausage. This must be it, right? No, this course was followed by grilled whole branzino, suckling whole pig and grilled vegetables. Then we had a fruit platter, including pineapple, honeydew and salted melon. Then, of course, came local varieties of Pecorino. To end with something sweet, we were presented with marzipan confections and an edible "wedding cake" basket stuffed with nutella. This was our "light" lunch? The whole experience of eating this meal was incredible. I have never felt so well taken care of at a restaurant. I truly felt like I was part of the Argiolas family, even though we had just met.
My dreams of napping were soon squashed as we climbed back on the bus. Even though my head was literally spinning, I didn't care. I was elated, and I knew that my group felt the same way. After winding through the colorful streets, the bus dropped us at the Argiolas winery. I had visited wineries before along the western coast of the U.S., but none had quite affected me like the one I saw at Argiolas. The rooms we filtered through smelled fresh with fermentation, like a bagelry early in the morning. We learned that the EU had subsidized many growers in the early 80's in order to minimize the booming production of mediocre wine. The Argiolas family rejected government money and began to plant indigenous grapes in order to reconnect with the traditions of Sardinia. Their early pursuit of quality and authenticity has led them to dominate in the area. This dedication reminded me of Tutta Bella and of what we strive to do in Seattle. Both at Argiolas and at our pizzerias, we respect and honor the traditions of Italy and are committed to delivering not only the highest quality product, but also the highest quality experience to our guests. Juliano, Argiolas' director of marketing, said it perfectly when he told us, "I am not happy unless you are happy." As I learned on my trip, it is the Italian way to invest one's whole self in bringing joy to people through food and wine.
The passion to create something of the highest quality and to lovingly share this product persisted throughout the trip. Our next destination was Galardi in Campania (the region that is home to Neapolitan pizza). I will never forget that day. The world presented itself in shades of green as our bus climbed up the hill to the Galardi home, Aglianico grapes hanging to our left and olives just sprouting to our right. Rick, one of the guys in our group, remarked, gI could probably spend the rest of my life here and not complain too much.h Feeling the warmth of the day and eating freshly-made buffalo mozzarella at lunch, I couldn't have agreed more. We tasted only one wine with the Galardi family, the Terra di Lavoro, which is a blend of Aglianico and Piedirosso grapes. Like the wine itself, the producers spoke and held themselves with more intensity than the more playful Argiolas family. There was a strictness to their stance and speak that did not replace warmth; in fact, they were extremely welcoming and generous. The strictness seemed to stem from a seriousness and intense pride. The 2001 we were presented with, their 11 th vintage, was one of the fullest, richest and most complex wines I have ever tasted. I felt humbled to be in the presence of the people who had crafted this wine, honored to be able to taste, and proud that I was part of such an amazing experience.
By this time, I was speechless. The trip had awed me. I realized that I was participating in something very special, something that was literally changing me. Our next stop, in Campania, solidified these feelings. The amazing winery of Montevetrano borrowed its name from the castle adjacent to its grounds and is run by Sylvia Imparato. Sylvia is truly one of the loveliest, most passionate and most talented people I've ever had the pleasure to meet. She was jovial, warm, stylish, well-spoken, loving, gracious, and an ardent perfectionist. In the short time that we spent with her, I learned so much. She produces only one wine, the Colli di Salerno Rosso, which has earned only an IGT (rather than a DOC or DOCG). Sylvia taught that the IGT designation did not indicate a lower quality wine; there are simply no established DOC rules in that area. This knowledge opened my eyes to the fact that the DOC system isn't necessarily the only or even most accurate marker of quality. Sylvia also taught an important lesson about vintages. She had wrapped several of the Colli di Salerno Rossos in foil. Each was a different vintage. She then had us taste the wines side by side and notice how different the flavor profiles were from year to year. In order to guess the vintages, we examined the physical characteristics of each wine, noting that the older wines tended to look browner around the rim in the glass. From this experience, I learned that "a wine that is alive is changing all of the time. Every wine is really alive." I also learned an important lesson in simplicity. Sylvia shared with us that the cuisine of the South often combines sweet and salty. We tasted a sugared pasta tart with a savory pepper filling and a salad that combined capers and raisins. As much as I loved these courses, the dish that is etched in my mind was by far the most basic. It was a small bowl of handmade, perfectly cooked fusilli tossed with San Marzano tomatoes and a leaf of basil. As simple as the dish was, the flavors were so rich. I have never had a more satisfying meal. Spending the morning with Sylvia was truly a blessing. It was one of the best days of my life. Best said in her own words, "To enjoy good friends, good food, good wine, this is it!"
The next winery we visited was Cantina di Venosa. This co-op of 500 members is located in the region of Basilicata. Over 90% of the production across the 2200 acres is Aglianico del Vulture ("Vulture" indicating growth in a volcanic soil). After World War II, the land was distributed among the farmers by the government. As a result, each member of the co-op owns, on average, only two to three hectares (one hectare being equivalent to roughly 2.47 acres). The winery is, then, essentially a collection of farmers working together toward a common goal. Unlike at the other wineries we had visited, the people of Cantina di Venosa are not rich. The wine sales from the co-op are their principal source of income. After showing us the immaculately manicured fields, San Francesco, the intense winemaker, humbly asked us for our "honest opinions" on his incredible wine. He also asked us to explain why the sales of his wine have declined in the U.S. in the last year. I remember that my heart dropped. I was looking at a man who clearly lived to work and who poured his heart into his wine. Why weren't Americans embracing his efforts? We explained that much of the problem was due to a lack of education. He implored us to spread word throughout the U.S. about Cantina di Venosa's mission to grow the healthiest, best tasting Aglianico grapes and to produce high quality, reasonably priced wine. In learning from and enjoying the company of San Francesco and his colleagues, I was touched by their passion. They are fiercely dedicated to their craft. They are a collection of producers with soul.
What's it like to live like an Italian? The day is not so much planned as fortuitously improvised. There are days without expectations, days of discovery. This was certainly true at Botromagno. We arrived in Puglia on the day of the Festa Patronale , or All Saints' Festival. We had planned to go shopping, but all of the stores were closed for the holiday. The Botromagno family decided to take us on an informal tour of their town. We leisurely visited ruins, picking ripe figs off of trees and marveling at the wild caper bushes along the way. Our discoveries continued into lunch. Course after course (nine of them!), wine after wine. I attempted conversation with our driver, Giuseppe, about how hard it is to spend so much time on the road away from his family. The wife of the Botromagno brother who had shown us around town let me know that she had two tall and "bello" young men who she thought would like to work as cooks at Tutta Bella. "Perhaps you can pack them in your luggage?" We all laughed. The waiters were dressed in logo-embroidered jackets and carried themselves stiffly. We found out through the rumor mill that our lunch cost 150 euro per person. Yikes! There was a christening at the table behind ours with a number of fashionably dressed Italians. It was a day without hurry or agenda, a day to enjoy the bounty we had stumbled upon.
The last stop of the trip was, to my amazement, the best. I couldn't have imagined at the time that the experience could have become any better, but somehow it did at Librandi in the region of Calabria. We spent an incredible afternoon with Paolo Librandi touring his spotless winery, which is cleaned four times daily. We watched as the indigenous Gaglioppo grapes arrived handpicked from the fields as smiling workers unloaded the boxes. "Who is that man standing in the middle of where they're unloading the grapes?" Paolo answered, "That's my father, Nicodemo. He makes sure that all of the bitter grapes are taken out before the rest go to the de-stemming machine." For a winery that produces 2.5 million bottles each year, this hands-on attention to detail is not only admirable; it is stunning. As Brian, one of the guys on our trip, noted with amazement, "This place is industrial on scale but artisan on production." After leaving the winery, we spent the rest of the afternoon traipsing through the vineyards. We tasted Gaglioppo grapes at the peak of their ripeness and explored the Librandi's experimental fields. We listened as Paolo told us how they were committed to combining traditional methods with the use of modern technology in order to produce a superior selection of wines. The wines we tasted later that day were, indeed, the most unique and interesting collection of the trip. Each wine was distinct and remarkable. Sitting in the tasting room, listening to Paolo Librandi enthusiastically share the history of his seaside town of Ciro and of winemaking in the region, I was invigorated.
My wine trip through Southern Italy taught me many things. The most important lesson I learned was that Italians have truly mastered the art of living. They do not hesitate in their generosity. There are no boundaries between "mine" and "yours." There is no awkwardness upon meeting because the camaraderie is automatic. Italians, though they wear nice clothes and surround themselves with lovely things, are focused on relationships. They entertain relationships with new people and old friends, with their incredible history, with the land that they do not simply inhabit but are a part of, and with the gastronomical pleasures of life. Relating and living cannot be understood in any other context than at the table. Food and wine are ingrained in being Italian. Food and wine are savored on a very local level, a reality that strengthens and energizes the relationship to the region of origin. The Librandi Gravello, smelling of spicy pepper, matches unbelievably with the spiciness of the hot red pepper and schuma di mare ("foam of the sea") puree prepared in the traditional Calabrian style. And even I, the vegetarian (the "rabbit," as the group dubbed me), could appreciate how the Argiolas wines complemented the bottaraga (dried and compressed fish eggs) that makes the Sardinian people beam with pride. In offering the wines and dishes that are the quintessential expressions of their locales, our hosts lovingly gave of themselves and of their familial and regional histories. I returned to the U.S. with relatively few souvenirs but with an all-encompassing sense that I had been showered with valuable gifts.
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