9 October 2012: Pollenzo, Bra and Canale

9 October 2012

Pollenzo, Bra and Canale.

We are staying in La Morra at the Conde Gondina. Our days begin at eight a. m. when we open the french doors, then open the shutters, and walk outside on to the stone balcony and feel the chilly, morning dew. The vista includes rolling hills--green with vegetation--and roofs clad in the typical tiles made from terra cotta--"baked earth"--and topped with pointy-capped, small, brick chimneys. In our few days here the weather has transitioned from warm to cool. The leaves are changing color from green to yellow to orange to red, preparing to fall.  There is a recurring veil of mist, not quite fog, that makes the each vista seem hazy like a beautiful dream.

We pull ourselves from our balcony reverie and  swap our pajamas for proper clothing to make our descent from the third floor. We shuffle across the hallway on tile floors of polished red-clay. Then we  descend  the heavy stone stairs and enter the breakfast room where the center table is arranged with pastries large and small and frittatas.  Hand-crafted cheeses. Dried ham and beef--prosciutto and bresaola. Cereals, yogurt, fruit salad and five-minute eggs. To drink, we are offered whatever preparation of coffee or chocolate or tea we desire. The Conde Gondina is run by virtuosos. The place is alive with fine details and comforts.

After breakfast we go exploring. On this day, we drove twenty minutes to the city of Pollenzo. Pollenzo may be tiny, but it is abuzz  with important activity that is of international importance. It is the home of the Università degli Studi di Scienze Gastronomiche. That is: the Gastronomic Sciences University. It was founded by Carlo Petrini. Mister Petrini is also the founder of Slow Food which is dedicated to the integrity of what we eat and drink. When we go to the market and we are presented with a vast array of tomatoes, apples, artisanal cheeses, grass-fed beef, free-range chickens all without pesticides and anti-biotics, much of the credit for that bounty of outstanding edibles goes to Mister Petrini. Long live the Gastronomic Sciences University.

In conjunction with the school, there is a parallel project, La Banca del Vino. Here is a little back story.  Settle into a comfortable chair. With a glass of red wine.
The king of grapes in our region of Italy, the Piemonte, is the Nebbiolo. Nebbiolo is the grape responsible for the wine called Barolo. Wine connoisseurs consider Barolo to be a tremendous and superior product. The local and state and federal authorities do to. To earn the right to call a wine barolo there are daunting hoops to jump through. Which is all to say, Barolo wine and the Nebbiolo grape  a big deal.  But there was a time, two centuries ago, when the Nebbiolo grape was in trouble and a particular estate, in Pollenzo, came to it's rescue. The estate invited specialists. And they researched. And they nurtured. And they succeeded in reviving the important grape. Today, that particular estate is the site of the Gastronomy University and the home of La Banca del Vino--The Wine Bank--where each year, every wine of note produced in every part of Italy is deposited for research and archival use.

I would love to be a student at the University because the campus is in a remarkable setting. The old estate that it once was included a castle, a church, fountains, roman ruins, underground cellars, all situated around a vast flat rectangle that is planted with grass on one side and laid with gravel on the other. But I gave up my fantasy of enrolling as a student so we could get on with day and drive to Bra.

Bra is larger than Pollenzo, but not much. We went there to eat lunch at Boccondivino. It is beloved by many for good reasons. We ate upstairs, ordered the menus of the day and washed them down with six different wines.  The exciting wine of the area is, of course, the red Barolo, but there are whites also. One I particularly liked was from Roero. (That word is hard for me to say. Ro. Er. O.) It is made from a grape called Arneis. It does not age. And in front of me, a glass did not age for more than ten minutes. Accompanying all of the wines was gnocchi in a sauce of Raschera, an artisanal cheese.  And there was roast rabbit breast. And a spiral pasta with cabbage and cheese. And torta de nocciola: crushed hazelnuts, eggs, butter, sugar, vanilla. What's not to like? And Bonet,  which is, more or less, at least in this version, and a chocolate egg custard with pulverized  amaretto cookies blended in. From Bra, we lumbered back into the car to drive to Canale for aperitivo and then for dinner.

From meal to meal we went. Days and days of eating. I conclude that on a trip with massive eating, a hotel with breakfast included is not a good thing. How can I not gorge at the breakfast buffet when everything on the table is calling out to me, pleading with me to try it. Then to go to lunch. And then the cocktail hour with hors d'ouevres. And then the dinner meal with an anti-pasto, followed by pasta, followed by a main course, followed by dessert and with two or three wines. How much can I contain before I pop like a balloon. No. Breakfast should be small. One needs discipline. I do not have self-control.

But I digress--as I always do--we made our way to Canale and arrived near sundown. En route we passed a fire. Intentionally set. It was a busy grape farmer who finished his harvest, delivered his grapes for the squeeze, pruned his vines and finally was burning the trimmings at the hillside vineyard.  Back in Canale, we found our way to a great street that is a long low-slung arcade. Arch after arch, running for several streets somewhat like a long tunnel and lined with small cafes and bars. I say bars, but they are special bars where one goes for a drink with snacks before dinner or, if the snacks are substantial enough, in lieu of dinner. Our particular "aperitivo" came with several small plates. Toast with a white cheese sprinkled with lavender. House made cheese straws.  And to drink, we had my new friend, Roero Arneis, the young white wine from lunch and we had Aperol with soda. Aperol is an orange liqueur with eleven per cent alcohol, less than most wines.  Our cocktail hour was ending and our dinner hour approaching. Were we hungry? Absolutely not. Were we still going to eat? Absolutely yes.

We went for dinner at the Ristorante Enoteca. It is an attractive space. Spare and old, yet modern. A floor of diagonally-laid bricks covered with an asian carpet, white plaster walls and arched doorways rimmed with unpainted wood.  The tables were covered with white cloths and had a candle in a white paper bag slit with butterfly outlines and a scalloped top. Overall the lighting had a warm glow. It was flattering. The kind of light that makes you look younger. The menu had fascinating things on it. Crispy frog. Pigeon crusted with black truffle. The chef has a Michelin star. We did not order those dishes.  As we were not much hungry, we opted to share several dishes and have a bite of lots of things rather than too much of one thing. But a funny thing happened. For every one thing we ordered, two free unordered small plates arrived.  It must be their thing there, to flood the table with gifts of food. The free dishes alone were enough for dinner. (Is there ever a way to go there, order nothing at all and just receive the free food?) These were some of the unsolicited items. Into a cube of olive wood, smooth and dense, they drilled holes and inserted tiny cornets filled with creme fraiche and topped with thin shreds of scallion. Delicious. On a small rectangular olive wood plate were gougere (cream puff pastry) filled with gorgonzola cream and  sprinkled with chopped pistachio. There was a dish of marcona almonds. And small sweet buttery hazelnut mini-biscuits, like a sandwich cookie with paté cream in between. There were small glistening spheres filled with of a tuna pureee garnished with one drop of red bell pepper reduction. Oh, there were breads, too. Outstanding ones. Chewy ones. Crusty ones. Olive. Coarse grain. And there were the--ever present in this area--grissini, the homemade bread sticks.  So that was some of the free stuff.

We were glad we ordered lightly and this is what we had. Porcini cotti in fondo. In a word, it was delicious. It was porcini mushrooms, two ways. Raw, sliced and paper thin. And porcini braised in veal stock. Apart from the porcini and in a shiny, empty, six-inch,
aluminum pan with two-handles sat a lone marrow bone, free of marrow, with a sphere resting on it that was a crumb-coated, round croquette. It too was outstanding. That was our first ordered dish. Our second dish came in a large, white, round, off-centered, lidded bowl, slightly flying-saucerish. When the lid was removed, with a flourish, I gave the expected gasp. Inside was a Guinea fowl egg atop foie gras. When pierced the yoke burst and became a sauce over the foie gras. Delicious in a breakfasty way. Next up was Agnelotti sugo arrosto. All I recall is it was a finely wrought stuffed pasta lightly dressed and very good. Our finale was Gnocchi ripieni di herbe. The gnocchi were stuffed with spinach and on a plate strewn with two slivers of carrot, two discs of radishes, two zucchini rounds and four-fifths of a snow pea cut in two. I drank my new friend, Roero Arneis. There was also Barolo on the table. We made it through our final meal of the day. We asked for the check

We sat at the table. Satisfied. Looking forward to bed. Then, instead of the check, a tray was brought and placed before us with six mini-pastries. Three pieces of each. Plus a dish of sugared hazelnuts. (Wes thought we may have received more food for free than we have paid for.) Did we eat the sweets? You bet. And we continued to wait for the check to arrive. Instead, another olive wood tray was brought with steaming, hot, glistening apple fritters. Loudly, not softly, they were crying, eat me, eat me, eat me. I resisted. Then I relented.

In forty-five minutes we will be back in La Morra. In bed. Resting for another day of adventure. And overeating. Good night.

Marlow on behalf of Wes and Roland
9 October 2012, Tuesday
10:20 p.m.
Canale, Italy
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