31 October 2007

the off season



There's a reason they call it the "off season." Maybe it's the cold weather. Or the wind. Or the windy cold weather. But what's clear is that Sardegna in October is not the Sardegna of postcards and travel agency posters. The beaches aren't blanketed with golden Italians taking in the sun. And the sun, for that matter, often doesn't come out at all.

But the Sardgena that we explored, and that we appreciated, wasn't hibernating at all. Rustic Sardegna was there in all its wild and untamed glory. The greatest part of this island, and what it has in spades, is the feeling that this place has yet to be overrun. The land is still rough and ruddy - the hordes haven't yet come along to polish it up.



We started our visit in Alghero which is touted as a mini Barcelona for the Catalan personality (and language) left behind by its previous conquerors. Being October, the beachfront bars and restaurants weren't the thumping social hubs that might develop in the summer but the sea was still there with its magenta sunsets and views of Capo Caccia in the distance.

We ate well enough in Alghero. One night was spent in a family place where de-boning the fresh fish we enjoyed was as ceremonial as the dramatic dishing of the paella - referred to as seafood risotto in Italian. We also went to a restaurant highly-lauded for its cheese selection and indeed the highlight was a wonderful plate of gnochetti enveloped in creamy gorgonzola and scattered with chopped cacao beans - such a brilliant combination of flavors and textures.



The lowlight of this restaurant was a young British lad at a nearby table who spent his entire dining experience quizzing his parents about Star Wars minutia. Each sentence was some version of: "Mummy/Daddy, if the death star encountered -- (insert various players from the star Wars saga) who would win?" I wish we could say that for our trouble we learned a lot about the Death Star and its powers, but the parents had far more hushed voices than their child so while we were privy to the questions, the answers will ever remain well-guarded secrets.



The seas were a little choppy during our visit but we took a boat out to Capo Caccia to see the Grotta di Nettuno (aka Neptune's Cove). It's a grotto at the base of a dramatic promontory point and it's filled with stalactites and stalagmites. (In Italian: "stalagtiti" and "stalagmiti" which sounds so goofily beautiful.) The cave is also the site of one of the largest saltwater lakes in Europe whose waters eerily reflect the rock formations above.



From Alghero we took several buses to get to Cala Gonone at the other side of the island. This cove of a community is known for its incredible beaches, turquoise waters, and unspoiled nature. The beaches along the coast are renowned to be some of the most beautiful in the world and you can reach them by either taking a boat or taking a hike. But as the boats generally aren't running in the off season so we decided to hike to one of the beaches - Cala Luna.

We'd been told it was a 2 hour hike so we headed off down the highway and after about an hour of walking, we thought we'd found the trailhead and we went in that direction. For almost two hours we clambered through a deep canyon of rocks and wild olive trees with craggy walls and caves rising around us. We kept following the well-worn path and wondered just when this legendary beach was going to make an appearance. With every curve of the canyon we thought we might come upon it. But there was no sound, not even muted, of waves breaking against a cliffy shore and the only thing we eventually found was a pack of Brits who'd just scaled down the canyon wall.



This group was kind enough to enlighten us to the fact that there was no beach at the end of the line and that we were headed only to the ravine that they'd just climbed down. In fact, the beach was in the opposite direction. So, following the Brits in their helmets and climbing gear, we turned around and climbed back in the original direction. The climbers eventually pointed out our correct path and we followed it.

This time the path was in a generally upward direction. It was very rocky and we soon realized that rather than the beach being a two hour hike from our hotel it was actually a two hour climb from this point. We found this out because we kept running into hikers on their way back from the beach who would, no matter how far along we'd gone, tell us that we had over an hour to go. Really.

When we asked the first group of hikers, 20 minutes into our own hike, how much longer it was to get to the beach their leader said that they'd been walking for one hour and that they were "fast" walkers. When we asked what they'd thought of the beach the woman actually said, "It was... how do you say...? Disappointing. It was disappointing."

Ok, great - thanks for those encouraging words.



Our second appraisal came after our brief lunch break in which we spent most of the time regretting our decision to wear Tevas for the hike. Thinking it would be two hours max, and that we'd eventually end up in the water, the sporty sandals originally sounded very appealing. But after about 4 hours of rocky climbing we were praying for a shoe shop along the rocky cliffs but instead ran into a couple coming back from the beach.

The man had their baby on his back and swore that we had over an hour of tough hiking to go. He said that the most dramatic part of the beach was deeply flooded and that you couldn't even reach the water. He also told us that we should "beware of the darkness" because the sun would soon be setting and we didn't want to have to find our way back in the dark.

Again thanks for the pep talk.

We soldiered on for about 15 minutes more before we came to a very deep and steep ravine that we were going to have to traverse to keep up with the path. It was then that we took serious stock of the situation, and our battered feet, and decided it would probably be best to turn around. It was a hard decision to make but the ravine was deep, our feet were killing us, and apparently the beach was flooded anyway. Plus, if you've seen a horror film you know better than to ignore the advice of any character who warns you to "beware of the darkness."



It took us almost 3 hours to get back to our hotel and when we got there we sat on our balcony, overlooking the sea and the sunset, and listened to the waves slapping the rocks. We had beer, Coca Cola and Pringles and we'd taken off our Tevas long before. To hell with Cala Luna - we were pretty happy to just sit there.

The next day we joined an excursion to an ancient settlement at the top of a mountain. The settlement, Tiscali, is in a collapsed cave where thousands of years ago the eventual inhabitants found a site both protected by the elements (as there is a wide overhanging rim remaining) and also an ideal micro climate where plants and trees thrive. It's also quite easy to defend your position and your settlement when you are literally at the top of a mountain. For the same reasons, reaching this settlement makes for quite a hike.

First we took a ride in a Land Rover through the Lanaitto valley and into the mountains. I've never been in a Land Rover before and I've never been in a car that drove on any of the kind of surfaces we drove along. It was straight out of a movie - rocky and uneven, steep and scary. We had our seatbelts on because if we didn't we wouldn't have stayed in the rover for long. I was shocked the tires didn't pop. And after so much city living I was shocked to find out that SUVs actually have a purpose.



The hike was steep and rocky and our guide Gian Paolo took us along a path that wasn't always clear. At times we were accompanied by his second wife who was a tough cookie if not a little crazy - she was an adventure-driven retiree who thought her husband was too much of a chatter and took to perching on cliff edges to kill time while Gian Paolo told us about the vegetation. Our co-hikers were a nice German couple who spoke perfect English and thankfully were not as expert as some of the other Germans we've run into on our hiking adventures.

The views along the path were stunning and raw and so were the rocks. You could rarely put your hands down without first checking to see if a sharp rock would take a chunk out of you if you did. The mineral make-up of the rocks makes it so that the stone erodes away easily and then flows into the mountain where it carves out caves and drips itself into stalactites. Left behind on the surface are ridged groves of sharp rocks - stunning but not comforting when you're hiking on steep paths covered in loose rocks.



We eventually made our way to the top, and looked over the rim into the collapsed cave. You could see the rubble of the community far below and the small glen replete with trees and brush. We kept hiking to the slash in the wall where we entered this once-covered space now open to the elements. We wandered past the ruins along the edges where the rim formed a protective awning from weather and sun and understood how the inhabitants would have found this place such an ideal shelter.

Our lunch was at a makeshift table and benches in front of the park ranger's simple cabin. The meal was three types of cheese, soft bread, salami and wine from an empty juice jug. Yep, wine. Leave it to the Italians to drink wine while hiking steep mountains.



We joined in on the wine drinking and also on the discussion. Lino, the park ranger, took a break from his solitary work as custodian of the ruins and joined in for some chatting on the topic of nature vs. nurture. You know your Italian has come along in strides when you can keep up with an Italian "discussion." It was only when Lino dropped into the Sardo dialect that we lost his trail. But by then it was time for small shots of espresso before getting back on the trail. Again, leave it to the Italians to make espresso on a hike.

The way back down was more tenuous than the way up and even involved clinging to a rope while slinking down a steep rock face. The return trail itself had been blazed by our guide who was proud of the fact that it was not "as boring and easy" as the other way. As if boring and easy are to be avoided...

After our mountain hike we rode to a mysterious cave to learn about how once a year, in wintertime, the caving system becomes so filled with water, that its multiple layers and lakes give way and come rushing out of the cave, flooding the riverbed and roads below. “Sa Oche” as its known in local dialect is very large and goes on for many miles - but its multiple levels are not for amateurs and we only nosed in for a few yards before it became too dark to continue. Thankfully, Gian Paolo told us that when the flood is coming there's a loud noise to alert you of the approaching deluge. Meno male we were met with complete silence.



It's here that I should mention Sardegna's excellent appreciation for, and ability in, the realm of baked goods. Nowhere in Italy is the cookie so well understood as on this island. Here, they're sweet and soft and seem to involve a rotating cast of almond, honey and orange flavors. They even use sprinkles! These cookies are not only delicious but beautiful -- bringing instant joy to our room at the bed and breakfast which had been brazenly decorated in various jungle prints.

The finest bakery we found was in Nuoro and was run by two sisters: one who was a cheerful sort and ran the front counter, the other who seemed a touch more sour-faced and remained in the back. The sweet perfume when we walked in was heavenly... It immediately transported us far away from this rainy tiny town overrun with ragazzi (teenagers) playing grab-ass while waiting for the bus home for lunch.



Sardegna in October is not Sardegna in August. And that can be a fine thing. Unless, of course, you want to squeeze yourself in at the beach and work on a wicked sun burn. Because there are a lot of people who head there to do just that. But not us.

As I was saying, there's a reason for the "off season"... and it may be us: the only two people who think Sardegna is more fun without the sun.

-----
Excursions, Dorgali: Co-op Ghivine, www.ghivine.com, cell: 338.83.41.618

Pastries, Nuoro: Il Golosastro di Sorelle Mele, Corso Garibaldi 173/175, 0784.37955

Restaurant, Alghero: Taverna Paradiso di Lombardi Patrizia, via P. Umberto 27, tel: 079.978.001

Hotel, Cala Gonone: Hotel Cala Luna, Lungomare Palmasera 6, www.hotelcalaluna.com, tel: 0784.93133

19 October 2007

get thee to alba



Alba is stuffed to the gills with the best this country has to offer and Alba's Truffle Festival is truly one of the finest activities to take place in all of Italy. You eat and drink your way through the exhibit hall and if you're anything like us you'll wander out with shopping bags full of terribly delicious things you've purchased along the way. It's decadent and luxurious, and all for the gentle cost of 6 euro (1 euro entry fee + 5 euro for a wine glass to fill up as you wander through the festival).

We went to the truffle festival last year and were amazed. It was our introduction to the pungent world of truffles and we came out with a newfound passion and appreciation for the strange and furtive fungus. We were worried that the wonder and joy of last year's festival might not be matched a second time around.



But we shouldn't have worried. This year was just as good as last, if not better.

In fact, our hotel was a whole lot better due 100% to Stefano's foresight and planning. Last year we threw a plan together at the last minute and were extremely lucky to even find an available room with a bed - bathroom down the hall be damned.

This year we realized that the hotel where we had a room (with bathroom!) was actually owned by our favorite Alba pasticceria, which also happens to be one of the best pasticcerias in all of Italy. It's downstairs from the hotel and just guess where the hotel's guests enjoy their breakfast... Oh, yes... that's right. Hotel guests go right downstairs for the best pastries, cakes and coffees in Italy.



There is also, across from one of our favorite Alba gastronomias, one of the finest gelaterias in Italy. We feel confident in this assessment as we eat a lot of gelato and we eat it all over Italy. This gelato is some of the creamiest and most flavorful that we've had - and its prices are right on par with normal. You don't need to be "fancy" to serve great gelato - you just need to serve great gelato. And this place does.

We ate dinner in a great restaurant again due to Stefano's long range planning. He found a renowned slow food restaurant that despite being very warm and filled with German tourists, had great food. We ate what seemed like handfuls of truffles atop our plates. Thankfully they were of the black, and less costly, variety as this year prices for white truffles have skyrocketed into the stratosphere and left our price range long ago.



Earlier in the day there was also a human tower in the main piazza. Yep, there was a human tower made entirely of people in green shirts that had apparently come from Spain. We were informed of their provenance when we asked a shopkeeper why a lot of people in green shirts were amassing in the piazza. The woman answered matter-of-factly that it was because they were from Spain. As if that answered our question.

In fact, this group had trained in Spain, was made up of Italians, and was executing human towers based on Spanish techniques and traditions. There was even a small child who would climb up the human towers to perch at the top; the towers were so high that she wore a helmet.



A grouping of vintage automobiles also happened to have formed while we were taking a walk around town. Our timing was perfect as we had just long enough to wander through the cars admiring age-old attention to detail and fine craftsmanship before they lined up to chug away. It was in a cloud of gasoline fumes and gears failing to catch that we watched the vintage parade tool off into the distance. Had we taken fifteen more minutes admiring the human tower we might have missed the show.

But at this point the auto show and the human pyramids were cherries on top of an already great weekend. After all, we were in Alba - wandering in the land of truffles, fine cheeses, and full-bodied red wines. And while I don't generally dive into wine before noon you can't help yourself at the truffle fest. It's the same logic you use to eat all the chocolate, cheese, truffle butter, truffle pasta, and hazelnut cake samples that you can.



On Sunday before catching our string of three (3!) trains back home to Milano we stopped in a fresh pasta shop where piles of pasta were laid out in the display cases. The kind women behind the counter pile it, by weight, into paper packages for you to take home and feast upon.

We left with two packages: one with small little pasta sacks filled with fonduta and another with the same style of pasta filled with black truffles. The prices were great, the pasta was incredible, and the advice of the pasta ladies was right on target. (They made sure we didn't take gnocchi on the long train ride home -- it wouldn't have held its form -- and told us exactly how long to leave our pasta in boiling water.)

Before making it home to cook our pasta we met a truffle hunter on the train. (By chance he happens to be the man on the far right in the first photo.) He was headed to a friend's daughter's wedding lunch and was more concerned that Stefano and I eventually have children than about sharing his truffle secrets. However, he did tell us that this year has not been a bountiful one for truffles and that he likes to hunt for them from about 6-10:00am in the morning. Every morning.



My question of what would happen if a truffle-hunting dog wandered into the exhibit hall of the truffle fest - would he go mad with the overwhelming smell of truffles? - was met with laughter. But he was very serious when he hopped off the train and uttered his parting words. He told us we had to find time to "comprare" children. We assume this is a colloquial phrase and does not literally mean we should find some time to purchase children. At least we hope not.

We, too, have some advice to share: if you have the time, the inclination, and the space in your stomach you must visit the Alba truffle festival at least once in your life. It's been one of our best finds in all of Italy. And we didn't need a truffle dog to point that out.

Recommendations
Hotel: Albergo San Lorenzo - tel: 0173.362406
Pasticceria: Golosi di Salute - tel: 0173.442983
Fresh pasta: Corino - tel: 0173.440272
Gelateria: Sacchero Gelato e Cioccolato - Via Vitt. Emanuele 32
Ristorante: Osteria dell'Arco - tel: 0173.363974

12 October 2007

the grass is always greener



It's relatively easy to settle into a city. You begin to adopt its norms. To accustom yourself to its standards. And to wean yourself of the little things that used to be so normal for you.

But then, you break free and get on a cheap flight to Krakow. And nothing is the same.

You feel like an alien who has landed on an unknown planet. You walk around pointing and admiring and wondering why isn't it like this where I live?



Did you know Krakow has coffee shops where you can order all sorts of flavored coffee drinks and get them "to go?" Or you can sit on a sofa and stay there, chatting with whomever you've brought along.

Have you heard that in Krakow there are substantially-sized people walking the streets and that they don't all wear stiletto heels? I'd swear I actually saw several women wearing flats.

Were you aware that in Krakow for less than 50 American cents you can buy a local snack - a delicious bagel-like round of seasoned bread - off of any street corner and join the rest of Poland walking around, enjoying the crisp fall weather and eating your own round of bread.



And let's not even talk about the mall.

Italy is a fabulous place but there is not really coffee to go, there are always stilettos, and there will never be a decent snack available on the street, let alone for under 2 dollars. Krakow has all of these things and more.

Krakow is as charmingly "European" as any European city we've visited. The presence of Jagiellonian University means it's filled with a youthful energy and intellect. The large piazza at the center of the old town is surrounded with historic buildings, sculpture, and churches. There's incredible food to be had, gorgeous tree-filled parks to enjoy, and a rich culture and history to explore.



In Krakow we ate very well for very little. Large steaming bowls of red borscht with potatoes. Pierogi stuffed with mushrooms and saurkraut. Horseradish-covered roast meats. Dumplings and polish sausage and soft cherry-laden cakes.

We ate in a small milk bar packed with people digging into their meals with elbows set firmly on the tables. Shared a picnic table during the University street festival and drank hot wine with our food. Ate kebabs on the street and found a vegetarian restaurant with great enchiladas and falafel.



We visited Wawel Hill which is historically important for all of Poland and also the source of a popular legend describing the vanquishing of Krakow's dragon. There are the royal apartments, a historic cathedral, a perilous bell tower (although not as perilous as Bologna's), several museums and what is said to be a dragon's cave.

St. Mary's Church, in the main plaza, is beautiful and we were lucky to catch the hourly bugle call on several occasions. Issuing from the cathedral's tower the call goes on for several bars before it stops mid-note and the horn disappears quickly into the tower.



Everything was going so well. So smoothly. Until our return flight when we were schooled in the equation of fog + budget airline = you're not going anywhere. So while we can say honestly that we love Krakow we cannot say that a 6 hour delay in the Krakow airport is any great joy. Even when the airline gives you a free salami and butter sandwich.

We made it back to Milan eventually and while tiredly walking to our apartment thought of how great it would be to grab a large coffee to go.

the best tour of Rome



After wine and truffled cheese in a colleague's apartment overlooking the Tiber, plates of saltimbocca and creamy spaghetti carbonara in Trastevere, and another day and night in this ancient and hectic city that makes us both feel like we're swirling in dust and traffic and a million strangers, we got into the cab.

Just a cab in nighttime Rome. Just a ride back to the hotel. Until I asked the cab driver what was playing on the radio. And the cab driver asked me if I liked it... If I thought it was really music... And if I wanted to hear something better.

He turned instead to opera and the taxi was engulfed in waves of deep tenor. The driver turned up the volume on cresting passion and melodic despair. The windows were down and Rome was blurring past. The night air was still warm from an unseasonable October day and the music filled our breezy space.

We passed bridges and monuments edged with golden light. And the Museo dell'Ara Pacis with its lines of postured ladies in red dresses standing tall in the dark. So dramatic these ladies. So perfect as our opera roared past.

I had to go back to them the next night. To see them in their glory. And it was certainly glorious: the Valentino exhibit and the dresses lined up like an army of good taste marching into the distance.

But it was far better the night before. When we saw it from the outside with the opera soaring and the cab driver yelling, insisting, with his thick Roman accent that this was music. That this was real music and didn't we agree?

Si, si, certo. Now can we stay in your cab forever?

four tables



There's a tiny, four-table restaurant hiding behind a salumeria/gastronomia in Modena. You wouldn't know it's there without insider info or the right restaurant guide pointing a thumbs-up in its direction. In fact, one of the couples who dined with us had only just found out about the place - and they were 40-somethings who had lived in Modena their entire lives.

Hosteria Giusti only serves lunch and this lunch service is book-ended by the normal coming's and going's of the gastronomia out front. With this set-up, a Saturday lunch reservation is not easy to come by. In fact, Stefano called the restaurant in June and the first available Saturday lunch was on September 29. Nearly a four month wait.



Modena is a fine town with what we've heard is a remarkable Duomo. Unfortunately, we didn't get to see the façade of the Duomo as it was covered by scaffolding. This was hardly a shock as in our experience, at any given time, one third of Italy is hidden behind scaffolding. The best part is that a project timeline is usually affixed to the scaffolding and the "Completion Date" of the project is generally a healthy six months past...at minimum. Ah, Italy - such unrelenting dedication to improvement and advancement.



But back to the restaurant that brought us to Modena. Getting to the dining room was an Alice in Wonderland voyage through a very small door in the back of the gastronomia. We followed incredible scents through a passageway that deposited us in a very small dining room. And yes, there were literally four tables.

If you've had the luxury of dining in Italy before, this place is not the be-all-end-all of Italian cuisine. Although, the "Millefoglie di melanzane fritte, lardo e fois gras d'oie" antipasto comes pretty darn close. Consisting of lightly fried eggplant layered with fois gras and lardo, it was a screamer. The kind of food where you can't stop making noise as you chew, taste, and devour it. So amazing, and so difficult to start with because everything else will inevitably pale by comparison. That said, I think I would make the 1.5 hour journey to Modena just to have another.



As I was saying the food is good - definitely good - but the atmosphere is stellar. You feel as if you've been invited to dine in someone's private home. It's this intimacy that flavors the meal and gives it a solid lead above the rest.

The balsamic vinegar is also an eye-opener. For dessert we had syrupy balsamic vinegar drizzled over fior di latte gelato. That combination did a lot to explain in a single spoonful what the glories of a good 40-year old balsamic can do. It is sweet and savory and surprisingly thick. But good Balsamic is a luxury for most of us, unless tiny 50 euro bottles of vinegar often find their way onto your shopping list.



We had a chance to talk with one of the women who runs the restaurant along with her brother and mother. Her father had started the place, but when he passed away several years ago they forged on ahead. And to hear her tell it, this restaurant is more well-known in the US than in Italy. She told us that there is a cult following of American foodies who plan entire vacations by first making a reservation at the restaurant and then filling in the rest of their itinerary from there.

At our lunch we were the only Americans although everyone there had one thing in common - a celebration. The large group that filled two of the four tables was celebrating a birthday. The Modenese couple who had only recently found out that the restaurant exists was there to celebrate their wedding anniversary. That happened to be our celebration as well.



Another enjoyable element beyond the eating was the private shopping post-lunch. We made our way back through Alice's passage and into the quiet shop, which was closed for the lunch break. The prosciutti were hanging, the balsamics were lined up, and we had the small pungent place to ourselves. It was a heady experience - to quickly scour the shelves for which gastronomic delights would accompany us home. Our bag was not light when we left and grew heavier when the woman threw in a fizzy Lambrusco as an anniversary gift.



As reasons to visit a town go, who's to say that a restaurant is a less legitimate draw than a castle or a church? For us, eating is the kind of tourism that we come to naturally, and that we enjoy the most. So go to Modena just for lunch.

Just remember to book ahead. Because while you can count on finding scaffolding in any Italian city, an empty seat in a four table restaurant is a little harder to come by.

(You can find Hosteria Giusti at Vicolo Squallore 46, behind Salumeria Giuseppe Giusti. Phone: 059.222533)