In a workshop, as many of you already know, things get busy. What with photography, imaging time, and eating with the group, we often get back late, thus the lack of blogs the last few days.
One cannot come to Tuscany and not sample the wonderful wine. There is Chianti, Chianti Classico, Rosso, and what Arnie and I love, Brunello.
Last year, when we were scouting, we were treated to a tasting at a very special winery, Fattoria del Colle, literally, the farm on the hill.
We called ahead several days ago, and I spoke to Alessia Bianchi, who remembered us from last year and made the arrangements for our group.
“5:00 o’clock, but please feel free to come sooner for photography. That will be fine. No problem!”
After imaging, we head for a little nearby hill town off the beaten track and away from the tourist crowds. We look for a place for lunch. I have two possibilities written down. One only serves lunch on Friday, and this is not Friday. It also requires reservations.
We see a sign for a restaurant, and I duck in behind the building to where the entrance is. I am greeted by a charming man who asks how many we are. When he hears eleven, his eyebrows go up, and he indicates that reservations are normal for such a group. After all, it is just he and his wife.
I apologize, and realize I have gone into the wrong restaurant and on the wrong day.
No, it is alright, he indicates, as we communicate with a lot of hand gestures and some words in both languages. Studying Latin all those eons ago has served me well, as I usually understand most of what is said, but saying it myself is not always successful. I usually end up with something between French (which I speak well) and Spanish (which works) in an Italian accent. At least the root of the word is usually on target, and eventually, communication succeeds.
The signor speaks little English, just enough, and he starts putting tables together on the terrace shaded by traditional, huge, square umbrellas. Table cloths are laid out, cloth napkins, wine glasses (of course) and everything looks pretty.
“May we photograph in the garden,” I ask. “I see that it is private.”
“Of course,” as he spreads his arms wide. “This is all my land. Photograph anywhere here.”
We do, as his wife — a Cordon Bleu chef, I find out later — prepares a sumptuous repast.
Because it is just he and his wife, he indicates it will be easier if we share an antipasto. We somehow manage to agree that crostini will work, along with a couple of salads. Wine, of course. Local wines of the region. Also, their own olive oil, pressed on premises in the fall.
There are olive, eggplant, and many other types of antipasta. We dive in. Conversation flows, and we have a far-more-leisurely lunch than we had planned. No one complains. This is an experience not to be missed.
The restaurant is on an old family farm built in 1633. The restaurant is also an old one. Fellini has eaten here and drawn the owners a whimsical sketch celebrating the restaurant and his experience.
Our host also loves film. We talk about classic movies. He sees all our camera equipment and brings out a serious Sony video camera. We all laugh in appreciation of our shared passion for images, whether still or moving.
It is time to say our farewells and grazies, and the group disperses in search of photographs. Arnie and I have given them assignments. One is to do a portrait of someone in the group. If that person has been photographed, then the photographer has to seek out another subject in the group. I notice that no one has paid any attention to that part of the assignment. One of our participants has a bright red top and is a bit of a ham. There are lots of photographs of her. Our youngest member, just graduated from high school, is also the subject of many portraits. Ah well, we tried.
Fattoria del Colle has said we may come early. It is time to move on.
Alessia warmly welcomes us and says that Signora Donatella Cinelli Colombini, the owner of two wineries, wants to greet us in person.
La Signora is a gracious, soft-spoken lady, who is proud of her wine-making heritage and her roots in Tuscany that go back to 1592.
What is more, she is a strong advocate of women wine-makers. This winery, in fact, is owned and operated by women. She has proven to the world that women are just as good as men in this field.
Signora Donatella shows us around the cellars, and indicates that we can photograph where we wish. She soon realizes that we are very respectful, and she disappears up into her house. Everyone has fun photographing barrels, wine bottles, antique items from the farm, and whatever else catches their fancy.
We are introduced to Bonne Ciacci who actually give us a tour of the grounds and relates the history of the winery and the Signora’s family in this region. Suffice it to say that many of her wines have won awards. Signora Donatella has also promoted agriturismo (agricultural farm stays), open-house tours of wineries, wine awards, and many other ways of promoting the spectacular Rossos and Brunellos of the region.
It is a fun an educational afternoon. It is time for the tasting, and no one dawdles!
The tables are set, each person having three glasses. The middle glass will also see the last wine we taste.
Bonne goes through proper tasting techniques. Some of our group has done this before. To others it is new. For all of us, there is always something to learn. We come up with what aromas we sense in the “nose.” Roses, chocolate, dark cherries, spices, earthiness.
Our last wine is the one Arnie and I really like, a Brunello di Montalcino DOCG 2006. Our second sampling was a Sangeovese that many people enjoyed.
When the tasting is done, Bonne asks our favorite. The table on the left all prefer the Brunello. Most of our table prefer Wine #2. Three or four of us at our table prefer the Brunello. The Brunello wins!
We make purchases and take our leave. We are allowed to continue to photograph, and some people think it might be nice to eat in the restaurant on the farm, too. Some final photographs, and we head inside for a meal.
The waiter is very nice, but there is only one of him, and we think he is a bit overwhelmed. Still, he is gracious, and eventually, we take the twisty, windy roads with switch-backs back to Il Melone. Needless-to-say, Arnie and I have no wine at dinner!
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