August 21, More Tuscany

Basking in Brunellos

Tuscany is the place for walled cities, rolling hills and WINE, WINE, WINE. Steve and I love to drink wine but we are not collectors and are more of the Vin Ordinaire or Vin du Maison. We do know what we like from a glass of bubbly to a smooth, full bodied Cab but our traveling companions have a new wine closet to fill, therefore, we must drink our way through the Chiantis, the Montelpucianos and the ultimate, the Brunellos, made to hold for ten to twenty years.

So today we headed to Montalcino, THE place, and the only place, that is entitled to produce Brunellos, 100% Sangiovese grapes. We had a reservation and wonderful tour and tasting at Il Pioggione, where handsome Danny and knowledgable Francesca lead us through some new technology and taught us the difference between Rosso Brunello and Brunello Reserva.

They then directed us to the best (and only) trattoria in Sant Angelo di Castel for a great lunch on a sunny terrace. We started with Pecorino served with honey and bruschetta with tomatoes.

A word about the tomatoes here. Remember tomatoes from your youth (if you are over 40)? When they were red and ripe and warm and juicy and delicious and slightly acidic and full of flavor? Well, that's how they still are here and served on warm grilled bread with nothing more than fruity, spicy EVOO. The pastas were homemade with pomodoro, garlic and oil and even topped with breadcrumbs.

Carafes of house wine now empty, we headed for our next tasting reservation.......but we really had no idea where the winery was so we bagged that and went into the town of Montalcino for what has become the rhythm of the day- walk, shop, espresso, walk, wine, drive, get a bit lost but always get home.

One more wine stop to taste seven or eight more wines and select a case for shipping to your new wine closet. Lay it down and let's drink one bottle each year to remember Tuscany together.

A View from Montalcino

On the Piazza

Down the street

Looking over the flags

Past the rooftops

To the hills

With the plowed fields of wheat

The leafy vines

The fruit laden olive trees

Straight to the horizon.

Tuscany.

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