A night in Tuscany
I would never turn down a cool, sparkling glass of Prosecco. But Sangiovese? I had never encountered one that I liked. That is, till last Friday.
I can say with the utmost frankness and honesty that I have never met a Sangiovese that I liked. I have always found them to be too fruity, too much like a pot of summer jam. They always reminded me of what the stereotypes of Italians were in the cartoons — overly suntanned, smooth-talking, slick-haired, chest-puffed charmers.
Don’t get me wrong, I love Italian wines: the sophisticated finesse of a Barolo with its complex Nebbiolo grapes, crisp and light pale whites perfect for lounging in a sun-filled piazza or while overlooking the sea nibbling on some scampi. And I would never turn down a cool, sparkling glass of Prosecco. But Sangiovese? I had never encountered one that I liked. That is, till last Friday.
I was invited to “A Night in Tuscany with Carpineto” at L’Opera hosted by the Lichaytoos of Bacchus. I have always enjoyed their wine dinners because of — as expected — the wonderful food and wine, but above all, consistently interesting company.
Stuck in the “-ber” months Friday-evening traffic at the Fort was as far away from the gentle, cypress-lined rolling hills of Tuscany as we could possibly be.
Upon arrival we were greeted with a beautiful glass of Farnito Brut Vino Spumante. Very unique compared to your usual Prosecco, she reminded me of these tall, leggy ash-blonde women from very old aristocratic families. Like those in the ad campaigns of Tod’s in recent years — well-traveled, sophisticated, discreet but not boring, and although she may appear to be of northern descent, her warm, Italian-Latin blood shines through her natural ease and charm. Blended from three different chardonnay vintages, each fermented on its own then re-fermented together, providing a truly unique and luscious bubbly. A good start to a wonderful evening.
The meal followed in wonderful simplicity much like the way it does in Tuscany. Smoked duck breast with rucola and fresh orange and a smoked mozzarella with prosciutto Toscano served with a 2013 Dogajolo Toscano Bianco IGT. Pleasant and easy like a friendly, young ragazza — a super Tuscan blend of Chardonnay, Grechetto and Sauvignon Blanc. Then we had a gorgeous pappardelle al cinghiale paired with two wines: a 2009 Chianti Classico DOCG Riserva and 2006 Vino Nobile di Montepulciano DOCG Riserva.
I for one will admit to being deliriously confused by Italian wines, with over 350 grape varieties and, of course, six years of living in France that have spoiled me for the rest of my life for any other wines. It’s tough to get a grasp of what is going on in Italy. And while I knew that Chianti was a region of Sangiovese, I had no clue about the Vino Nobile, the one that was to surprise me the most for the evening.
Precisely cooked homemade pasta, al dente as it should be, held up perfectly against the slow-cooked wild boar ragu. As I am one who likes to eat everything on my plate, I tore up the sprig of rosemary and scattered the leaves, releasing its beautiful, earthy aroma. It seemed like I was back in that loud, crazy trattoria with my family in Siena.
The eight-year-old Vino Nobile was still a vivid, dark ruby red; apart from its signature fruit it was slightly spicier and woodier, in absolute harmony with the rustic game dish. An elegant man whose face bears the fine lines of experience and good living, salt-and-pepper hair with stubble to match, dressed impeccably with a rumpled chic and a twinkle in his eye.
The combination of the pasta and the wine and perhaps the flush of ample, multiple glasses of wine took me straight back to that bench, where I sat every night with Jonathan, hopeful, thinking every evening would be the one he would propose. On that bench, my heart full of the promise we would live that long, good life together, under the Tuscan moonlight over looking the sensual hills covered in olive groves and vineyards… where you could hear the wild boar ambling about in the distance.
Then I overheard that it was also a Sangiovese, at which I snapped out of my reverie to declared, “I had never met a Sangiovese I ever enjoyed except for tonight. Perhaps I have been served sop all my life.”
Ah, more evidence behind the old adage that life’s too short to drink bad wine.
Suddenly the laughter and conversation was overtaken by the oohs and ahs elicited by the stunning Bistecca alla Fiorentina carried by restaurant chef-owner Paolo Nesi. From which more wine-drinking, glass-clinking and storytelling ensued.
The evening wound down, leaving behind a landscape of wine-stained empty glass relics, testaments to a wonderful affair. And while we may not have been on those romantic Tuscan hills, in the middle of the skyscrapers of the Fort, in that tiny pocket consisting of two intimate tables, serenaded by opera arias, the ambience was decidedly Italian. That joyful, familial warmth and the love for good food and great wine that bound us all.
