Summary
Back up to Barolo for lunch. We’d been noticing that literally every menu was the same with only very slight variations and we had gotten rather tired of the choices (cooked or raw beef, tripe or tongue, zero fish or chicken) offered. We stopped in for wine tasting at the place Scott described yesterday then drove to La Morra for the spectacular view of the Piedmont from the Belvedere. Popped into a little grocery and bought fixings so we could eat dinner “at home”. It had been a beautiful day but just as we got back in our car a big thunderstorm hit. Had a huge mixed salad and a caprese salad for dinner. Ah, vegetables!
Details
We awake refreshed. The room is in the mid 60°s and outside it’s sunny and upper 40°s. We’ve really gotten used to these temperatures and it scares us for going back to Texas in June.
At breakfast everything is brought to us (do you want some of this or that…). It’s all good. I gather that most of it is made here. We know they make their own juices with pears, ginger, berries, etc. Divine. The scrambled eggs are delicious and oh, so bright yellow. Are they from Madame’s chickens? Oh, no, but they’re from a lady down the way, “and the chickens are free” (range, we gather).
In addition to Madame (Raffaella) there’s a young girl helping whom we guess is one of her daughters. The girl is polite but not overly warm or talkative with us. Is she embarrassed about sleeping through our arrival yesterday? I note the heavy-ish rouge on her cheeks and a small stylized “S” tattoo by one ear.
Once we’re finally cleaned up and on our way, we point the car back towards Barolo, atop the nearby hill. Madame had circled most of the neighboring villages, giving each high marks, and mentioning something unique, for every one. Much more than we could internalize in a single hearing. And yet, here we are, going back to Barolo for the second time in as many days. Ah well, go with what you know.
It’s no longer the weekend so parking is a breeze. We wander back through town, seeing streets and buildings we missed yesterday. We start scoping out restaurants for lunch. Being Monday the choices are a tad less than normal. Karen recalls a good looking place with white cloth napkins, Cosi Easy is its name. I recall it as the building with three floors of blooming star jasmine. Yum! We install ourselves in the shade of a big umbrella. We’re the only ones here, which is fine by us. There are four waiters milling around, killing time as we’re their first table of the day.
A young lady comes and gives us a bottle of the water of our preference and takes our order. I’m struck by her rouge and tattoo. This must be a local thing. Maybe it’s like a costa nostra mafia thing, where all the girls have to look a certain way. I mention it to Karen who bravely asks the waitress “is your mother Raffaella?” Puzzled the girl emphatically says “No!”, looking confused. But then she continues “But I do work for her.” Were you working for her this morning?? That’s when she recognizes us with a laugh. I guess all us old people look the same. It’s the girl who was helping to serve us at breakfast a very few hours earlier.
Lunch is good, though Karen’s getting nervous that all restaurants around here serve the same “local cuisine”. All the menus at all the restaurants list the same things (and none of it is chicken). It’s going to be a long couple of weeks. We had mentioned this to a fellow resident of our hotel, from California. Apparently this is a known issue and we have to stick together and let each other know when we find something “new”. We now have a lead on a place that’s offering rabbit! I do have a yummy glass of wine with my lunch (“when in Rome” and all that). Karen’s not sure if this is such a good idea since our post-lunch plans include going wine tasting and then driving home.
We walk after lunch, through more of the unknown parts of the little village of Barolo. So many wine stores! We peek into a big winery building. We continue our walk and see many other people also doing some serious walking. Unlike us, they all have a hiking pole in each hand. They’re obviously on some well known trail. It’s then that I see a sign and a trail map. It’s both for hikers and for cyclists. It’s (amusingly) called the “bar-to-bar” trail. What a great idea.
We walk a long ways down a road that’s used to access the different vineyards uphill and downhill from us. Eventually we turn around and hike back. We make our way to the wine tasting business we looked into yesterday. We are given a card with 25€ value on it and start our self-guided tasting. You put your card into one of the many machines and select the wine/quantity and out it comes, into your glass. Some we like more and some we like less. The price isn’t a good indicator for us.
After quite a few tastings, including a big glass of bubbly, we figure we should call it a tasting. We give back the card and pay for the tastings (and for a bottle of white which we really did fancy).
Back in the car we drive again to the hilltop village where we had dinner last night (La Morra). There’s a “big” grocery store there and we never did get up to the famous Belvedere with its reportedly spectacular views. It’s quite the uphill slog up to the viewing platform but it is indeed worth it. The high vantage point really does let you see forever in many directions.
How long should we stay and gaze? A loud clap of thunder quickly answers that question. The coming storm and rain has dropped the temperature dramatically. We scurry back to our car just in time. We shop (for dinner) at the grocery store and drive back to our Agrotourisma hotel. Thankfully there’s room in the fridge for our stuff. Madame assures us she has the oil and vinegar we need for our planned big salad dinner.
After doing more chilling in the room, away from the variable weather, we return to the kitchen and get out our purchases and left-overs from days past. We make a huge salad with lettuce, tomatoes, etc. Of course one salad isn’t enough so we throw in a caprese salad with more tomatoes, basil from the garden, and burrata. Karen heats up some pre-cooked lentils and sautés a mountain of pre-sliced mushrooms for tonight (and some to have in our made-to-order omelette tomorrow).
We dine indoors, in the dining room, with an Italian couple at the next table, having a bite of something and conducting all kinds of business between them, and loudly on the phone. When they leave they and we both apologize for interrupting. Such nice people in this country. By the time we’re cleaning up and putting everything away our hostess is making dinner for her, her daughter, and some strange man we don’t know. Rumors are flying.
Photos
