Our last few days on the farm were just as lovely as the first several. The off and on showers finally let up enough to let us get into the vineyards - pretty straightforward, monotonous work, but fun nonetheless to learn the real grunt work that goes into any good wine. It was mostly weeding around the base of the roots and pruning and training the vines for consistency. While two days only allowed us to knock out only about a third of the entire hillside of terraced rows of Sangiovese, there was plenty of reward in looking back over our completed lines full of consistently pruned vines and imagining the rest of the two year process of growing, harvesting, juicing, vinification, and aging.
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| Some remnants from last season |
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| So many rows to go |
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| The loft where we slept |
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| The view from our window |
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| With Mischa and Marinella |
The rest of our time was spent helping around the house, playing with the kids, trying to sort out our last two months on the road, and 'checking on' the ridiculous basket full of kittens every now and then. We said our goodbyes yesterday morning, both of us having the feeling that at some point we'd find ourselves back (whether it's some harvest, or perhaps some winter when it's time to turn one of the pigs into various Tuscan delicacies). We got a ride from Miscia to a nearby bus station for a quick bus trip to Strada in Chianti where we would follow up his recommendation to visit a famous local butcher who set up a few different restaurants attached to his shop, one of which promised a hamburger (which would be our first of the trip) made from the famous local beef. Save for some confusion about the bus schedule, we arrived in Strada without incident and found Dario's pretty quickly. The front butcher shop was awesome, full of worldy cookbooks and wonderful free samples, and we were soon ushered behind a sliding wall panel in the back of the shop and up a staircase to the restaurant area. Tuscany is a pretty serious tourist destination, and Miscia had mentioned Dario's was popular, but we weren't quite expecting that we would be flanked entirely by North Americans when we sat down at the communal table. We ordered two of the semi-famous burgers and chatted up our New York native dining neighbors, waiting with cautious anticipation (while much of the antipasta, cheeses, cured meats and other dishes we've had so far in Italy has been fantastic, the cooked meat has been pretty inconsistent). The burgers arrived pretty quickly - thick breadcrumb crusted patties, with sides of well seasoned fried potatoes, onions, carrots, and big sprigs of parsley. While the beef was obviously of a high quality and cooked in a way that at least seemed to respect this (quite rare), it was in dire need of seasoning and a bit dry. The seasoning was easily fixed with an herby salt mix that was set on the table, but despite it still being quite good and a fun visit, my now 6 month decent-burger dry spell will have to continue. Fingers are crossed for France.
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| Strada |
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| The Mac Dario |
With our burger quest fulfilled, after a bit of Gelato (we're meeting quota now) we hopped on the next bus to Florence. We made it to our hostel without problem, settled in and spent some time dealing with the ever-demanding travel logistics (the penalties for winging it in Western Europe are a little pricier). Some years ago my parents had visited Florence and my dad had some vivid memories of a little restaurant outside of town that served up what he described as, "probably the best steak of my life". Enough said. I had called in an 8pm reservation a few days before, and it was only a 15 minute train ride from Florence center. We made the train, had a nice 5 minute walk to the restaurant with 5 minutes to spare, and upon entering, to our enormous surprise, the one English speaking server informed us that it was not possible that we had a reservation, as the entire restaurant was booked for a private party that was yet to arrive. It was clear that, mistake or not, there was not much to argue, so we walked out a bit frustrated, wondering who the heck I had talked to about the reservation. We had seen signs back by the station for another restaurant that my Dad had mentioned being well reviewed, so we backtracked and followed the first sign, then a second, and then about a mile walk up a steep hill...until we finally arrived at an big, quaint old restaurant called Edy Piu. The dinner was wonderful - I'll let the picture speak for themselves.
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| Lastra a Signa |
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| Dinner at Edy Piu |
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| Antipasto- crostini with lardo, white beans, tomato and pecorino, chicken livers, and eggplant |
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| Local wine |
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| Local cow |
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| Like the burger, if any steak deserves to be served rare, it's this one. |
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| Don't worry, we packed up a bit to take home |
We made the long walk back down to the station with time to spare before the last train back to Florence (we were pretty eager not to be stranded at 10pm, miles outside of Florence).
We spent the day mostly wandering through Florence, soaking in the atmosphere. After the wealth of incredible architecture we've seen over the past months, I was glad to know I could still be rendered speechless when we walked into the Piazza surrounding the Duomo.
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| Awesome sandwich shop recommendation from our Abruzzo farm companions |
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| A few hours wandering through the Uffizi |
I'd wanted to visit Florence for about a decade now, and it's every bit as gorgeous as I hoped.
