Romancing the Vine Life, Love & Transformation in the Vineyards of Barolo

Part I First Pruning Winter 1 First Forays I had been to Italy many times before, but this was my first visit to Torino. In many ways this city didn't feel like Italy at all. Wide, straight, portico-lined boulevards, square piazzas, and large traffic circles arranged with ordered symmetry into long vistas punctuated by prominent sculptures or imposing edifices seemed almost Parisian, while immense cafes of gleaming marble, sparkling crystal, and ornate stucco suggested Vienna. The Salone del Gusto, a massive biennial celebration put on by a Piemonte-based organization called Slow Food, was different too. Day after day, from 11 a.m. until well after dark, I walked up and down long corridors of stands set up by artisan food producers from all over Italy, Europe, and the world. I tasted sweet red garlic, salty prosciutto from a wild pig you have to slice as if playing a violin, and a dark, funky cheese that had been buried underground for a year. I went to workshops on a myriad of arcane subjects, such as a comparative tasting of four protected species of chicken (each simply boiled and served at room temperature without seasoning so as not to alter the natural flavor of the bird), another describing a traditional practice of raising rabbits in caves, and yet another featuring sheep's milk cheese made by Sardinian shepherds, paired with wines from the island's obscure indigenous grape varieties. For a break, I strolled along the shopping arcade of the Renzo Pianodesigned hotel next door and watched "normal" people devour hot dogs and slices of reheated pizza without giving it a second thought. On several occasions I took the elevator up to the mercifully small and uncrowded Agnelli Museum on the top floor and there gazed silently on the large, soberly precise paintings of Venice by Canaletto, a series of early Matisses from the south of Francewarm and busy and gay with bright though somewhat muted colors as if washed out by an abundance of sunlightand my favorite: the cool, restrained but immensely sensuous Nu, Couche by Modigliani. In the evenings when I could stand no more of the frenetic fair, I returned to the Centro Storico, the old historic part of town, and wandered through streets and plazas already decked out with a bedazzling array of holiday lights, each installation designed by a different artist. After the fifth day I had more than enough information to write my story. My stomach was full to capacity with delicious unusual foods, my head was swimming with data, and my psyche was jittery. I was experiencing physical and emotional overload and needed to chill, preferably in a quiet place with someone familiar. I was not expected in Tuscany for another ten days, so I decided to go visit a friend, Bruna, in the wine country near Alba. It was a mere hour to the southeast and I could stop off there for a day or two before continuing to work my way down to Carmignano. Bruna is a great cook, especially when it comes to the regional dishes of her native Piemonte, and was one of the original "Mothers" of a restaurant in Manhattan called Le Madri, where I had been the original executive chef. I picked Bruna up at JFK when she first came to New York, helped her get acclimated to her new high-rise home and to working in a big Manhattan restaurant kitchen, took her to the dentist, and translated for her when hand gestures alone weren't sufficient. We became friends and kept in touch after I left Le Madri. Some months later, Bruna left the restaurant too but stayed on in New York for nearly a decade, cooking in a number of different places. The year before, she had returned home to Piemonte for good and was now working in a rTardi, Alan is the author of 'Romancing the Vine Life, Love & Transformation in the Vineyards of Barolo', published 2006 under ISBN 9780312357948 and ISBN 031235794X.