From La Buca to La Garda

Eager to fulfill our lifelong dreams of becoming groupies to Cuban geriatrics, Mara and I decided to nix Cinque Terre and follow Orquesta Buena Vista Social Club to their next gig in Venice.

En route, I proposed we stop for lunch at Trattoria La Buca, a family-run trattoria in Zibello, about thirty kilometres from Parma, in Emilia-Romagna. I had read about this trattoria in Bill Buford's Heat, and was bent on sampling the famed hand-made pasta and culatello, based on this write-up in Buford's book:

"I went to Italy, where, during my first lunch, I ate a homemade pasta, and my life, in a small but enduring way, was never the same. [...] My friend had mentioned several dishes in addition to the pastas: eel, frog legs, trip, and culatello, a specialty of the village. Culo means "ass". Culatello translates loosely as "buttness" and is made from the hindquarters of a pig—boned, stuffed into a bladder, cured, and hung for two years in the damp local cellars. The method is deemed unmodern by the U.S. Department of Agriculture, and culatello is forbidden in America."

We were beyond desperate to try the buttness.

When Mara and I arrived, we were greeted by Laura, who runs the show with her mother, Miriam, the fifth woman in successive generations to be handling the trattoria. Miriam, who so impressed Buford that she became a regular in his book, was in Milan filming an episode of MasterChef.

After a tour of the trattoria's cantina, where the culatelli were hung, "refrigerated by nothing more than the breezes off the Po [River]" (Buford's quite the poet), we settled on culatello, salame, tortelli di zucca, tortelli di ricotta ed erbette and tagliatelle con culatello. We had skipped breakfast in preparation.

The culatello and the pasta were, as Buford observed, life-changing. And perhaps life-creating? In the throes of our food comas, Mara and I were joined by Laura's father, a 88-year-old with a penchant for the shaka sign who definitely wouldn't have been issued the senior rate at the movies. His secret for winding back the clock? Culatello.

Oh, buttness. The fountain of youth.

Trattoria La Buca

Culatello hanging in la catina

Il culatello

Tortelli di zucca and tortelli di ricotta ed erbette 

When we were finally able to make a move, we drove northeast to Riva del Garda, at the tip of Lago di Garda. Compared to Lago di Como, I found Garda and its lakeside towns to be overrun by tourists and a tad tacky—this is the home of Gardaland, after all. Riva del Garda, while still (over) developed, occupies both a scenic and a strategic position on the lake. Tucked into craggy mountains, and straddling the provinces of Lombardy, Trentino and Veneto, the town makes a good base for exploring much of northern Italy, and is renowned for its hiking trails and its two prevailing winds, which create perfect conditions for windsurfing.

We spent the rest of the evening getting pampered at our Lido Palace, a historic Liberty palazzo whose guests over the years have included Archduke Franz Ferdinand and King Vittorio Emanuele II. Our peers, no doubt.

The next day, based on the recommendation of the concierge at the hotel, who suggested we head for the "chirp, chirp, chirp" of the hills, we opted against the groupie life, and decided to drive to the Dolomites instead. After a stop at the nearby turquoise Lago di Tenno, and a windsurfing session for Mara, we were on our way.

Lido Palace

Lago di Garda

Lago di Tenno

Windsurfers, Riva del Garda

Almost Famous

In the heart of Piedmont, just one hour on the autostrada from Turin, lies the hilltop villages and vines of the picturesque Langhe region. The area has become synonymous with two things: red wine and Slow Food, with Alba and Bra acting as the respective hubs.

Riding in Mercedes-Benz Smart Car style

Piedmont, in a nutshell (which would be a hazelnut shell, in case you were wondering, for this is the land of Ferrero Rocher, Kinder and Nutella!)

Mara and I spent our first afternoon soaking up the sun and the Langhe landscape at Castello di Verduno, an 18th-century castle that once belonged to the House of Savoy. For dinner, we headed to nearby Neviglie for an Asso di Quadri pizza, reputed to have won many "World's Best Pizza" awards. We weren't blown away by the decor, but the Neapolitan-style pizza didn't disappoint.

Room with a view, Castello di Verduno

View of our room, Castello di Verduno

We kick-started Day Two with a visit to La Spinetta, a family-owned winery in Castagnole Lanze, which included a tour of the cellar and a guided tasting. Here, I started to make sense of the three big Bs that dominate the region: Barbera, Barolo and Barbaresco. The latter two come from the nebbiolo grape variety; in Italy, Barolo is known as the king of wines, Barbaresco the queen. From La Spinetta, we quickly got lost—nothing to do with vino consumption, everything to do with Italian signage, or lack thereof—and spent most of the afternoon on windy detours that, for whatever reason, always led us back to the bingo hall in Alba. Once we figured out how to use the Italian Nav, we headed straight to Castello di Sinio, one of the oldest and best preserved castles in the area, and where we'd be spending the night. That evening, we visited and dined at the distinguished Marchesi di Barolo, a fifth-generation family-owned producer in the town of Barolo, who, we were delighted to discover, bottles their very own Barolo Chinato. Seba had introduced me to Chinotto, of course, but I had no idea that wine infused with quinine bark was a thing, let alone a popular, and yummy, digestivo. 

Chilling pool-/castle-/clock tower-side, Castello di Sinio

Barolo

Cellar, Marchesi di Barolo

The following day, Mara and I didn't make a move until noon. (Do you need to see more pictures of the castello?) At Bra's Osteria del Boccondivino—the restaurant where the ego-gastronomic Slow Food movement was born—we had a leisurely lunch (go figure), and then meandered around the area in the afternoon. We forewent dinner in favour of aperitivo, and then headed to Monforte d'Alba to catch Orquesta Buena Vista Social Club in action at the MonfortinJazz festival. We got to the outdoor auditorium (a converted Medieval town square, natch) less than an hour before the show was due to start, but that was enough of a window for us to score front row seats. This was, without a doubt, one of the best concerts I have ever had the pleasure of attending. And, for whatever reason, Mara and I were a big hit with the band, who invited us to party with them backstage after the show. While I would love to share with you all what went down, I think it would be wiser to invoke the age-old adage: What happens in Monforte d'Alba, stays in Monforte d'Alba.

Orquesta Buena Vista Social Club (with Eliades Ochoa), Monforte d'Alba 

Idania Valdes

Rolando Luna

Papi Oviedo

Omara Portuondo and Papi Oviedo

Gran Torino

For whatever reason, Turin doesn't really register with national or international tourists. Italians believe the city has little to offer beyond Fiats and football, and even the most worldly of North Americans can barely recall that the '06 Winter Olympics took place here. But Turin, which briefly served as Italy's first capital, is an elegant old town full of expansive piazzi and boulevards, all lined with Baroque buildings and porticoes that house a bevy of landmarks, museums and galleries. Located in the heart of Piedmont, one of the finest food and wine regions in what is arguably the world's finest food and wine country, Turin is also a Slow Food hot spot that is equally renowned for its cafe culture and aperitivo scene, and above all, its chocolate. We would need at least a week to see (and taste!) all the sights (and specialities!) that Turin has to offer... And we only had a day.

We arrived mid-afternoon from Cogne, and decided to make Eataly our first (lunch) stop. Known as the Slow Food movement's supermarket, Eataly—which has spawned a Mario Batali marketplace in NYC—houses a staggering array of artisanal food and wine products, as well as restaurants specializing in cheese, breads, pastas, meats, fish and much more.

Lost in thought in Eataly

A trip to Turin wouldn't be complete without a visit to the Mole Antonelliana, whose distinctive dome and spire appear on the Italian two-cent coin, so that's where he headed next. The building, designed by eccentric engineer-architect Alessandro Antontelli, is pretty wacky, and is home to a glass panoramic lift (suspended only by cables!) that brings visitors up 85 metres onto the roof terrace for a spectacular 360-degree view of the city and its surroundings, the snow-capped Alps.

Mara and the Mole

Mole Antonelliana

For the rest of the afternoon and evening, we strolled along the streets and squares of Turin, stopping to sample gianduiotti (a chocolatey-hazelnut concoction), gelato (from the first-ever Grom) and stuzzichini (snacks served with drinks) as the urge hit. 

Turin by day

Turin by night

The following morning, we headed slightly out of town to check out the Reggia de Veneria Reale, a Unesco-listed palace and one of the biggest royal residences in the world, that is often likened to Versailles (but without the hordes of tourists). 

Reggia di Venaria Reale

Galleria di Diana, Reggia di Venaria Reale

Livin' in an Aosta paradise

Mara and I set out early for the Valle d’Aosta, a mountainous region located in northwest Italy. Bordered by Switzerland’s Valais to the north and France’s Rhone-Alpes to the west, the lesser-known Valle d’Aosta shares in its neighbours’ natural and cultural heritage: The region offers some of Europe’s loftiest peaks and scenic alpine landscapes; year-round outdoor activities; a hearty, robust cuisine atypical to the rest of Italy, and, remarkably, it operates in two official languages, Italian and French.

In the heart of the Valle d’Aosta lies the Parco Nazionale del Gran Paradiso, Italy’s first national park. Created in 1922 when the Savoy King Vittorio Emanuele II bequeathed his hunting reserve to the state, the park’s early establishment preceded the emergence of the modern ski resort. As a result, it is considered to be one of Europe’s most rugged and unspoiled wilderness areas, and, as such, is aptly named.

Parco Nazionale del Gran Paradiso

Wildflowers, Parco Nazionale del Gran Paradiso

Cogne, a quiet alpine village overlooking the meadows of Sant'Orso, is the park’s main steppingstone, and from where we decided to base ourselves. After a leisurely lunch at the Bar a Fromage, Restaurant de Montagne, where we feasted on typical pastoral dishes and a whole lot of Fontina (PDO status cheese!), Mara and I headed into Gran Paradiso, and explored it on foot, and then horseback (at her suggestion, and one of my greatest nightmares come true). We spent the rest of the afternoon relaxing (or, rather, recovering) at the hotel's spa and wellness centre, which included pools, baths, saunas (citrus- and hay- based), a frosty room, a saline cave and the curiously-named (or poorly translated) "Marmot's den," which was, unfortunately, and for whatever reason, off-limits to us. That night, we had a delicious dinner (and my life's fill of Fontina) at the hotel's Michelin-starred restaurant, with ingredients culled from their kitchen-garden.

Cogne

Bar a Fromage, Restaurant de Montagne



Hiking, Parco Nazionale del Gran Paradiso

Horseback riding, Parco Nazionale del Gran Paradiso

Hotel Bellevue

Kitchen-garden, Hotel Bellevue

In addition to the plethora of outdoor opportunities on offer, Cogne is also known for its lace making. There are approximately 130 lace making ladies who live in the town and work in its’ cooperative, and we paid them a visit the following morning. Known as les dentelles de Cogne, they follow a tradition of lace making that dates back to 1655, working on a technique and patterns committed to memory, passed down from their mommas and their nonnas and their mommas' nonnas. Forget about crossword puzzles and Sudoku: This is the real deal for staving off Alzheimer's!

Les dentelles de Cogne

Les dentelles de Cogne

Lace

Mangiacakes in Milan

After a couple of days of chilling out Como-side, Mara and I made a move to Milan, accompanied by Rosanna. We hit up the usual suspects, including the glistening, marbled Duomo, among the largest cathedrals in Europe, the Galleria Vittorio Emanuele II, a glass-covered cathedral of commerce built in 1867, and the Teatro alla Scala, the world’s most fabled opera house and where Bellini, Puccini, and Verdi all found fame.

Duomo

Gorgeous stained-glass window (one of 146!)

The floor's intricate stone carvings

View from the roof

Galleria Vittorio Emanuele II

Spinning "on the bull's balls", a tradition at the Galleria Vittorio Emanuele II

Teatro alla Scala

We checked out an exhibit on Guido Crepax, a Milanese comics artist, and his muse, Valentina, before meeting Seba’s brother, Stefano, for lunch, and then set out to explore the Renaissance Castello Sforzesco and its nearby Parco Sempione. 

Mara and Rosanna, Castello Sforzesco

After refuelling at Grom, the genius Slow Food-affiliated gelateria, we ventured over to Piazza Santo Stefano to take in the ossuary chapel of San Bernardino alle Ossa. The ossario is disturbingly decorated with human bones and skulls, though the room is somewhat enlivened by its vault painting. Sufficiently spooked, and wanting to get on the road before dark, we picked up our Smart Car (the only reasonably priced automatic car rental in Italy) at Linate Airport, and headed home to Gera Lario for our very own Last Supper before the trip.

San Bernardino alle Ossa

San Bernardino alle Ossa