Tuscany: Chianti Classico and San Gimignano

We've been back from our vacation for a month now, and in that time everyone has asked what Italy was like. It's hard to know where to start, how to summarize a place as dreamed of and rhapsodized about as Italy. Mostly I tell people, "Oh, it was sooo great." And then I came up with a good way to describe it: "It was as great as you imagine." And it's true. Hopefully I'll be able to convey that in photos in the next few posts on Italy. To start, just look at the view from our apartment at our agriturismo, Poggio alle Lame, in Tavernelle Val di Pesa in Tuscany. Sigh...

More on our accommodations later, let's skip right to day three, when the fun began. After a half day in Milan, a traumatic day in Florence, and trouble finding our agriturismo the night before, we were ready to forget it all and get into a Tuscan frame of mind by exploring some of the wineries right outside our door in Chianti. Fortunately, there was one, Poggio al Bosco, about a mile away.

We were greeted by a quintessential smiling old lady, who waited with us until a gentleman arrived to pour wine. Using pantomime and my limited Italian, we tasted all their wines, talked for some time about wine, how they make it, and our philosophies on drinking wine.

Loris showed us around their humble barrel rooms, where wine stood aging while the tools of the trade waited nearby. There is nothing we love more than a personalized wine tasting experience, meeting the people who make the wine, and hearing their stories. It's really an honor.

We set out in a general direction, with the intent of going where the road took us. We rounded a corner and came across Osteria del Viandante, for what would be the first of two lunches there. You can see why with the view from our table.

We started out with a plate of pecorino cheese with little pots of honey with truffle and honey with saffron. 

I had the first of many pappardelle dishes, this one featured a sauce made with Cinta Senese, a specialty breed of Tuscan pig.

We drove on and stopped at the top of a peak to wander through the clearing and take in the view. 

We set off again, and found that we were on the winding strada del Chianti Classico. The signs along the roadside were about the only evidence of any marketing of the wine industry in the area. In fact, it was kind of hard to find wineries. Mostly, we would see a little sign on the side of the road alerting us, "Vendita diretta" so we would make a u-turn  to check it out. I really liked the casual approach to one of Italy's cultural treasures. "So maybe you find us, maybe you don't. No big deal." It was such a welcome change to the comparatively frantic atmosphere of California wine country.

Case in point, La Croce, right outside of Castellina in Chianti. We followed the sign down a dirt road to a spartan parking lot with these tanks (how different, huh?). We wandered around for a few minutes taking pictures, and then an older man came out of the field to invite us into the tasting room to try their wine and olive oil. Again, he didn't speak a word of English, but it's amazing how much you can understand when wine is the common language.

We stepped over to the wine bar, but he gestured towards the olive oil first. I almost turned down his offer to taste the oil, but the look on his face made me realize I would be rude/crazy not to try it.
Now, what I'm about to reveal will horrify some of you. Don't be surprised if you find yourself covering your mouth, or simply slamming your laptop shut after you read this. You may never look at me the same way again. Okay, here goes.
Before this trip I didn't like olive oil very much.
Yep, I just said it. I always thought it tasted like crayons. But La Croce was the setting for an epiphany for me. One little taste made my eyes open up wide, and I finally experienced what everyone else is kvelling about when talk about "good olive oil." I think I've (cringe) become an olive oil snob.

We wound around some more and I asked Anson to pull over so I could get this photo. Yes, it was quite a view, but I wish you could smell the wild mint that I stepped into, the scent of which stayed on my shoes and perfumed the car as we drove on.  

The next morning, we made our americanos in our apartment, and took off towards San Gimignano, one of the first of several medieval hill towns that we visited. Here's the view from the steps of the Collegiata, the town's main cathedral. There was a little antique market set up and Anson found one of our souvenirs from the trip, an antique bottle opener.

We thought the Museum of Torture would be interesting break from the heat (don't go, you'll feel ashamed to be a human after your leave), and found this interesting statue in one of the piazzas. I couldn't find anything that explained the meaning, and even Googling it later brought up nothing. Anyone out there know?

This pizza place was mobbed the first time we walked by, but a few hours later we easily got a slice (mine was filled with grilled vegetables) and a beer, which we drank in the shade of the Collegiata.

Typical alley in San Gimignano.

I loved seeing the outlines of doors that had been bricked over, a new owners' preference wrought in stone.

This was a great wall near the outside of the town. I really would have liked to peek inside the homes.

Another statue lived in the dirt path around the 8-foot-thick outer wall.

Our favorite dinner was at Ristorante La Fattoria, right down the road from where we were staying. As with Osteria del Viandante, they advertised "tipica cucina toscana" (typical Tuscan kitchen). "Tipica" makes it sound like "everyday," which it surely wasn't for us.

From our table on the patio, we spent the night eating incredible food, meeting fellow travelers, watching the soccer game, and enjoying an unhurried evening we will remember for a very long time.

Hand-made tortelloni filled with spinach and topped with creamy truffle sauce. In the background is fried zucchini blossoms and a bottle of the restaurant's house wine, made just over the hill. I had papardelle with wild boar and Anson had spinach fettucini with gorgonzola cream sauce.

The house amaro and a light strawberry tiramisu finished off the night. While we ate and enjoyed the night I tried to remember every detail, knowing that this was one of those experiences I would want to relive time and again.