Hurry up and wait: Piemonte Stage Day 3

Day three started with the Piazza Giolitti Farmers' Market and a mezzo-kilo of fresh apricots.  With each morning starting progressively earlier, it was an 8:45 start.  By this time accustomed to the routine, we piled onto the bus and began the first long drive of the day.

Donning the oh-so-sexy standard white disposable coat, cap and plastic bags for our feet, we started off with a tour of the factory at Osella, a prominent Italian cheese company.  Our guide kindly led us through every step of the cheese-making process on a more industrial scale.  Osella is a unique entity - a family-run company, yet owned 51% by Kraft.  Despite the cringe we all struggled to hide at the idea of multi-national ownership, Osella appears to walk that knife edge of artisanal tradition and autonomy and reliance on outside capital quite well.  Approximately 40% of their production remains fresh cheese, and they use only local, Italian milk from within 60km.  Or as they put it, 5,000 cows work for them daily, helping create camembert, ricotta and robiola cream cheeses.  After an eye-opening look at their marketing strategies over the years, we were faced with the requisite study trip all-cheese lunch.  While their marketing may not have struck a chord, one dense smear of robiola herb cream cheese on crisp flatbread won me over.  I have to admit I bought some on the weekend.

A quick bus ride later found us at Cascina Gorgia, a lovely agritourismo outside of Orbassano.  Agritourismos are a wonderful Italian concept - rustic or elegant working farms where you pay to stay, explore, help out if you like, and eat what they produce.  Cascina Gorgia  had a beautiful traditional building of ivy-covered stone, shaded patio, butcher shop . . . and a veritable menagerie of chickens, furry-footed turkeys, rare goats, lambs, pigs, deer, ducks, turtles, cows and emus.  As well as a wall-jumping peacock, as we discovered when, squawking, it landed right beside us during a lazy reading break.  Our hosts generously brought us beer after our tour of the farm.  However, we then spent almost three unexpected hours outside in 34 degree temperatures waiting for the main event - the official announcement of the newest Slow Food Presidia:  Red Celery.

We were nodding off en masse during the press conference and speeches.  But of course, the first musical note of wine hitting the glass, and we were mobile.   The following antipasti and pasta courses all featured the rare red celery.  It was a unique concept: while the individual elements were all tasty, it's an interesting call to highlight a vegetable that isn't harvested until fall.  The dishes, including the chocolates, all relied on frozen celery.  It seemed a very un-Slow Food approach.  Despite the enjoyable meal and company, we were thrilled to get home early to commune with our fans.  Especially my roommate, whose love of braising was piqued by the potential prospect of freshly slaughtered emu in Fall.

Pizza, markets and paperwork: going AWOL on Piemonte Day 2

July 6th was a detour.  For five weeks now, I'd put from my mind the all-important permesso di soggiorno - the residency permit required of us by the Italian government.  We'd already experienced several frustrating steps, from getting our fiscal codes, to spending jet-lagged hours in the paperwork office, and then waiting in the post office to pay fees and send our information to Cuneo.

Tuesday was the appointment in Cuneo, the capital of our province, to get fingerprinted.  Nine of us were scheduled for the same day, and so had to miss day two of the study trip.  Surprisingly, it was a relatively smooth process, aided by the fact that Cuneo is close to the French border, and so I could communicate throughout the experience with ease.  We finished ahead of schedule, read: miracle, and it also was market day.  A leisurely lunch, a little shopping and a problematic train ride later, and we were back in Bra.  Let's just call it a peaceful break in the midst of typical stage chaos.  Even if we do have to go back to Cuneo in four months to pick it up...

"Super Stage Me" Piemonte Day 1

It was a sweet 9:30 start to the day.  Enough time to linger over morning coffee and pop into the much-loved local bakery for a pastry en route to Piazza Giolitti.  The Piemonte stage differs from all our others in that it is the only one where we get to go home every night and sleep in our own beds.  It doesn't matter how much we enjoy each other's company, having our own space every day is bliss.  Or as someone put it at 2am when we arrived home from Puglia, "I've never been so glad to see half the bus go!"

In any case, our first day was the "winey" one, according to our Super-Tutor Alessandra.  We began at the Negro Winery in Roero, a family run business since the 1670s.  Our guides trekked us up and down hills in the slowly burgeoning heat, and patiently answered our multitude of questions.  Seeing as we'd just finished a course on Organic Agriculture, there were plenty.  While the winery isn't certified organic, their practices are fascinating.  The soil is very sandy in Roero, and creating more structure is important to make wines with complexity.  So, they use red worms, originally imported from California, to work on the compost.  These worms only leave the piles when they are finished eating through the organic matter, but are extremely sensitive to antibiotics transferred by the creators of the manure.  If they're exposed to them, they die.  Interesting... 

On our hike up the hillside, a particular grove of trees was pointed out to us - the truffle hunters' land.  While technically owned by the winery, this patch is prime truffle land and is much sought after in October.  The winery keeps the property in perfect shape, and I believe gets some of the bounty.  Definitely a good place to return to in Fall... 

Our tour continued in the cantine and cellars.  Bottling was going on for one of their Arneis, and it was interesting to see the process.  While I thoroughly enjoyed bottling at Le Vieux Pin and La Stella last summer, we use a bottling truck there.  I moved back and forth between a few of the jobs, but the different steps - sanitizing bottles, filling, labeling and sealing - were all tucked in a loop and so I couldn't see the whole process in one fell swoop, like at Negro.  After communing with barrels and seeing the old and new methods of champenois, we were ushered upstairs by the owner for one of those fabulous meals we only experience on stage.  Wines were paired with each course, and the meal finished with rounds of grappa.

Needless to say, the entire bus napped all the way back to Pollenzo.  We groggily braced ourselves for our lecture in the cool of La Banca del Vino on our school campus to finish up our day.  After a general history of wine-making, we tasted some more wines, discussed our findings and toured the wine bank.  Meant to be a storage and educational facility for many unique and well-known wines, the cellar is a serious treasure-trove of Italian wines.  I clearly have many more varietals to discover this year!

The calm between the stages

While I wish there was epic news to report, the two weeks between the Puglia and Piemonte stages (pronounced in the french way, just so you can all sound affected) were quiet ones.  Sleep.  Read.  Ride my bike.  Write papers.  Buy a fan to combat the excessive heat of Bra.  Spend two hours in Big Store (Northern Italy's version of Walmart) just to be in air-conditioned comfort.  Get the news that our move-in date has been pushed to July 15th.  Write more papers.  Read more.  Sleep less. 

The only events of note were a lazy friday afternoon lunch at Osteria Bocca Buono, a last minute mad dash to Alba and Asti, and the ensuing Pigluck.

First things first.  One more paper and power-point presentation down, we were given a free afternoon.  Several of us girls decided to check out Osteria Bocca Buono, one of the "food spaces" presented during our Food Anthropology projects.  We settled in on the breezy terrace for the three course special, interrupted only by a local winemaker who stopped by our table, bringing us a bottle of his nebbiolo to try.  From the frittata "tacos" piled with fresh vegetables, to the pomodoro pasta with fresh cheese and finishing with a beautiful layered cream and fruit parfait, it was a relaxing end to a busy week.

After another paper & exam-filled week, Emily W and I hopped a train to Alba.  Joined by Rae, we spent a couple of hours wandering the massive Saturday morning market, buying apricots, tasting wine and staying in as much shade as possible. 

Next up was Asti.  Now, we had big intentions of wandering around and comparing Moscato.  Except the air-conditioning wasn't working on the bus.  Then we had "that guy" sit down next to us on the bus.  You know, the guy who reeks of B.O, invades your personal space, tells you random stories about his life interupting your conversations, tries to find out your home address and phone number, and doesn't get the hint.  We finally just got blunt.  By the time we oozed out onto the streets of Asti, we were in that apathetic state of dehydration, hunger and indecisiveness.  Finding the Tourist Information was no help either, as the woman there refused to give us restaurant recommendations claiming she was offering a public service and couldn't show preference to a restaurant. 

We used the map to find the nearest enoteca, burrowed our way to the back of the wine cellar, and settled in for a leisurely lunch of mussels, salad and a heavenly salsicca and barolo risotto.  Two hours later, we emerged into the even brighter sunlight feeling energized enough to sprint for the bus.  This time around, we had "the guy".  The super sweet guy who wants to practice his English, only joins us when invited, and recommends perfect beach towns and day trips. 

We arrived in Bra just in time to catch Pigluck.  Now, gastronomes beware - pigluck is a pork fiesta supplemented by potluck items.  It began the night before with Luca, Wendy and Crystal frantically preparing marinades for pork belly, ribs and various other cuts.  It culminated in the biggest pork gorge-fest on our former roommate's new terrace which overlooks the entire valley.  The wind came up, cooling everyone down, and twenty of us sprawled all over the cobblestones with heaping plates and glasses of wine.  Not a bad way to spend a Saturday.

First study trip. Check.

Nothing can prepare you for the realities of a study trip. 

Start with 25 people, 2 leaders, psychotic bus drivers of varying skill, and being on the go, all together, from 9am til 1am. 

Then add long stretches without food, followed by abundance of one type, for example, fresh cheeses. 

Combine regular lectures on locality, walking tours during the heat of the day and wine and olive oil tastings at random.

Mix together with a very southern Italian host *wink, wink* and long-drawn out dinners at traditional restaurants, wine-makers pairing their products with each course. 

The end result:

The spewing gastronomes...

Apart from the Friday being hands-down, the most miserable food poisoning experience of my life, the trip was exhausting, stretching - and thoroughly enjoyable.  The producers we met were so incredibly passionate about their work and why they do things the way they do.  People in Puglia were warm, generous and friendly.  Especially the men.  Very friendly.  Maybe too friendly.

Here are some highlights of Puglia.

Olive trees grow in the direction of the earth's rotation, which means that the groves resemble graceful, aged dancers performing pas de deux.  If you have 5,000 euros, you can even buy a 1,000 year old gnarled tree of your own and receive all the oil it produces, each year.

Cheese.  Fresh, raw-milk cheese of creaminess unimaginable.  Made right in front of us, like this fresh mozzarella that was fashioned into small knots.

Beautiful, complex, rich wines made from varietals I've never heard of before.  That's no longer a problem.  We met winemakers with major productions (1 million bottles +) who pick all their grapes by hand and proudly make only indigenous wines.  They're starting to break into the North American market now - keep an eye out for them.

 

Capocollo di Martina Franca.  There's nothing like standing in a shop piled high with large hunks of meat being seasoned in red wine, salt and pepper, covered in stretched intestines and wrapped carefully to age and cure.  Even better when your meat-obsessed roommate dives in and joins the third generation cappocollo makers in the job.

Seafood.  I never thought I'd say this, but on a hot day, there's little that beats a marinated octopus and cuttlefish salad in a waterfront cafe, with a cool glass of prosecco in hand.  The dinner in Brindisi at the foot of the terminus of the Appian way was a complete overload of the senses with five courses of plates piled high with seafood.  My stomach buckled finally when attempting to suck the brains of a huge raw shrimp.  I might have to stick to the ...

Forno.  A traditional restaurant where you choose your meat from the display, and it's cooked for you in the wood-fired oven. 

We ate tripe, donkey and some flavourful beef and sausage in a simple tomato ragu.  Paired with a beautiful Negroamaro that Jesse and I liberated from the other ends of the table once we finished our own bottle, the meal was spectacular.  Our group really seemed to bond on this night.  That might've had something to do with the wine...

The simple pleasure of a nonna's cooking.  From learning to make fresh pasta, to lingering over an alfresco meal of beautifully executed traditional dishes with the minister of agriculture for Puglia, our last night was exquisite in its down-home feel.

 

Puglia is all heart.  There's something about the landscape, the people and the products that draws you in and inevitably makes you family. 

What defines eating well?

Living in Italy is inevitably challenging how I view food.

At home, the abundant contents of my spice cupboard, cookbook shelf and fridge were a source of some small pride: at any given moment, I could cook almost anything for any number of people. In my experience, food creativity revolved around recipes. Of course, I gave some thought to seasonality, but often I'd create weekly menus based on what was on sale at the local grocery or market. While that was changing to a degree in the past year, frugality was a very strong thread linking my purchasing decisions and to some degree, will probably always continue to be so.

Now, there are three farmers markets every single week. The piles of fresh goods are so inexpensive and inspiring and there's real discovery in tasting, handling and smelling what's available. We buy what's good. We discuss new meals. Now, I feel the drive to learn techniques, not recipes. And the producers themselves recommend new ideas. Rosanna at our favourite greens stand describes, in vivid Italian, how to slice celery just so, and toss it with olive oil from Puglia and wide shavings of parmigiano from Ivan's stall just down the way. Yes, it's a European cliche, but market-given recipes persist because they're given by people who know their products intimately in a way those of us disconnected from the agricultural process just can't. And simply put, they're fantastic.

The challenge to re-connect to food in a sustainable way is also greatly enhanced by my education. Reading and discussing the serious issues facing our global food system must boil down to: what can I do in the here and now?

Well, Friday mornings, we get up early to fit in a run to the farmers' market. And while we are dazzled by the array of products, we buy only what is needed for the weekend. It's all about having an abundance of creativity, not an abundance of supplies. It means every three nights, the three of us stare into our fridge and create a menu whose purpose is solely to finish off its contents. Three star cuisine it may not be, but the flavours are rich and so inextricably linked to this time and place. And when the quality of goods available is excellent, the simple meals are always good. Last week's caramelized onion, pancetta and castelmagno cheese frittata with roasted potatoes and sage and sauteed broccoli rabe left an empty fridge, but us perfectly satiated.

Good doesn't necessarily equate complicated anymore.

Polignano a Mare

Arriving in the white-washed centro storico of Polignano a Mare several hours later only served to reinforce our decision to take a relaxing seaside weekend before the whirlwind of our first study trip. Polignano a Mare is a small town about 34 km south of Bari, perched on the edge of a cliff overlooking a grotto with the most crystal clear blue and green water I've seen in Europe. The cliffs are dotted with caves, some of which reach to the centre of town, and many of the wonderful restaurants and hotels are built into them. Polignano is thought to be one of the most important ancient settlements in Puglia and ended up being invaded by everyone from the Huns to the Normans at some point. There is rich history everywhere you look.

I'd booked us into a b&b found on the internet and it turned out to be absolutely perfect. Carlo from Casa Dorsi met us at the main piazza, and led us through the archway dating from 946 AD into the centro storico. Coming through the maze of little streets, we burst out onto a look-out point overlooking the swimming cove.

Our bed and breakfast was just around the corner. Up a steep set of narrow stairs, our quarters were three stories high, including three bedrooms and an amazing rooftop terrace with an outdoor shower and huge stone picnic table. We spent many hours over apertivos of prosecco and local olives, looking out over the Adriatic.

Our mission being to relax, we relished some long, drawn-out meals - most memorably the one at a trattoria in the centro storico where I first tasted burrata, a creamy raw-milk cheese that is a near-religious experience.

As part of that meal, we also sampled the local fresh pasta variety, orecchiete or "little ears", and I tried my first whole fish.

Not only did I love it, so did the little cat we adopted sometime during our meal and dubbed "Principessa". She devoured the fish heads quite daintily, and the owner of the trattoria was so amused by the experience that he gave us a bill for the cat...

The three of us essentially took the time to wander aimlessly, take ridiculous amounts of pictures, gorge on seafood at restaurants with spectacular views over the ocean, swim as much as humanly possible in the cool sea, and enjoy regular naps. We even rented a paddleboat one afternoon to explore a little further.

All in all, we rejoined our classmates on Monday morning at the Bari airport with huge smiles and the beginnings of a suntan.