Monday, September 18, 2023

Wining in Florence



Today was going to be ‘Italian wine day’. The plan was to venture out into Tuscany for a sampling of Chianti and to learn about Italian wines. We met our rather silent driver, after a European breakfast, for our trip to the vineyard. The journey through the Tuscan countryside was a symphony of natural beauty. The narrow winding roads were lined with olive trees and vineyards.

Upon arrival, the vineyard emerged like a postcard come to life. Its rustic stone buildings, adorned with terracotta roofs, nestled into the rolling hills that stretched as far as the eye could see. 
 The sun bathed the landscape in a warm, golden glow, casting long shadows across the vines that climbed in orderly rows up the slopes. We toured the small private villa and were inundated with the smells of recently harvested grapes that carried into the barrel rooms.  

The terrace, a haven of tranquility, beckoned with elegantly set tables and comfortable chairs. From that vantage point, we were gifted with a panoramic view of the undulating vine-covered landscape.  The Chianti and Chianti Classico flowed like liquid rubies, poured into crystal glasses that caught the sunlight and danced with prismatic brilliance. 


With each sip, the flavors unfolded like a tale of the land, and was narrated by our guide Nico. The Chianti, robust and full-bodied, carried the essence of sun-soaked grapes, while the Chianti Classico, with its nuanced complexities, whispers secrets of ancient vines. We learned about the true meaning of Classico and how to identify these particular wines. I felt especially proud when my tasting knowledge was challenged and I correctly identified subtleties in two glasses of similar wine. This only encouraged our guide to continue pouring and even had us sample some of their grappa.  


Once we returned we set out for some food.  Lunch was a feast of fresh Italian cheeses, their creamy textures and piquant (yes, look it up) flavors a testament to local craftsmanship.  Paired with a velvety Chianti, it was a symphony of taste that lingered on the palate. Finishing our meal with recharging cups of coffee we set out. 


We strolled through the lively streets of Florence, where the hum of activity enveloped us. Antique shops beckoned Emily and her mother with treasures of bygone eras, each piece carrying its own whispered history.    


As the day waned, we found ourselves in a charming wine shop, its shelves adorned with carefully curated bottles. The sommelier guided us through a tasting, each sip revealing the artistry of Tuscan winemaking. The tiny shop was awash with laughter and clinking glasses from our table.   We swaggered back to our hotel for a much needed siesta before dinner. 


We arose from our siesta in anticipation of our Florentine steak dinner (Apparently Florence is famous for their steaks). We all dressed up a touch and had pre-dinner cocktails on a ridiculous rooftop bar with views of the river, municipal clock tower, and the largest dome in Florence all highlighted at night by spotlights.  Our concierge booked us reservations at a top steak house.  We strolled towards the restaurant recounting tales of folly under a star-lit sky and surround by warm summer humidity. The restaurant was another hole-in-the-wall but famous at the same time? It was serviced by crusty waitresses and exhausted chefs. But the walls were lined by photos of famous patrons and wines of all kinds. The special was Florentine steak. We wanted the ‘1 kg for two’ serving but our waitress barked at us that 2 kg was perfect for 4 people… we begrudgingly complied and we were less then shocked at the monsterous amount of meat that was presented to us.  A giant double 70 oz T-bone steak with a mountain of fried potatoes and a caldron of beans. It took two people to carry… we did our best (which felt pathetic) but we were woefully overwhelmed. Throwing down our utensils in defeat we pondered our cardiac arteries and life expectancies while shamefully comparing our table to others. Fortunately after taking inventory of the surrounding patrons we were not the only suckers in the restaurant. With nods of acknowledgment from our co-diners we felt minimally vindicated.  It still haunts me how much meat is likely wasted in that restaurant every night.  We finished our wines and waddled out of the restaurant into the warm evening air sweating out the shameful amount of meat we ingested. I’m not sure how we made it back but we all crashed hard. 

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