Seriously, dude?  And before 9 am?  I need a fuckin cup of coffee.

One of our Russian movers looks exactly like Flea. When he said he didn’t know who that is, I showed him this pic. Which he liked very much.

My colleague, Steven Solomon, our esteemed and talented designer for Hearth & Terroir (and by “talented,” I mean “borderline psychotic”; and by “esteemed,” I mean “capable of striking terror in the hearts of the holiest”) did this fine homage to Steve Jobs today.  It’s clean, it’s simple and it’s powerful…much like the creative products this man seemed to spin so effortlessly in his wake.

Rest in peace, sir, knowing you have inspired millions…

…is Wiener Melange in your cup.

A little Czech humor for the day.  This pic was taken inside the men’s bathroom at The Palladium mall in downtown Prague.  Above each urinal is a slightly-larger-than-life picture of a girl looking at your privates while you pee.

Please note the cheeky girl in the foreground with the ruler in hand.  Watch out, fellas.

It’s 8 pm and we’re on a ferry somewhere in the Aegean Sea.  In a couple of hours, we dock and begin our journey through Athens.
But before we get swept up in the cradle of Western Civilization, it’s only appropriate I give one last nod to the isle of Santorini.

Leaving you today was the hardest spot yet.  It was like tearing off a Flintstone’s band-aid that I had worn with great affection.  You are fantastically magical and have attached yourself to my core in unknown ways.

It is a place where Helios (the Sun God) rules each moment of the day.  Just look at this sunset.  It’s beauty is enough to make a grown man weep…

I’m becoming addicted to Greek coffee.  The slow caffeine drip of filter coffee can’t hold a candle to the rocket-power juicing of a frappe.  Hot damn.

Just in case you’re curious to know how to ask for a “shower cap” in four languages, here you go.
I particularly like the French term, and may just choose to forever refer to them as “douche bonnets”.

So we found this old stadium…

View from La Morra, commune of Barolo. And, trust me, we needed this damn map. (All photos by Kat Bryant)

Driving south from Alba, on a foggy, rainy morning, the hills began to rise up around us like a misty dream. As our little Fiat traversed the windy roads, the world we were about to spend four days in came sharply into focus (see photo slideshow at bottom).

Hillsides swallowed up hillsides; vistas stretched endlessly to the horizon and tiny castles and towers marked hilltop towns in every direction. After countless pictures I’d seen of this area, I was ill prepared for the magnitude of it. The cathedral of vines on all sides was staggering. The land was blanketed from head to toe in tidy rows of them, many with stakes rooting each one to the earth. The sporadic hamlets and farmhouses seemed to be nuisances to the vines’ path, like large rocks in a lazy, green river.

The pride of Barbaresco

We had three winery appointments, which hardly even scratched the surface of the hundreds of passionate winemakers and grape growers who call these hills home. But they are top dogs, trendsetters, and innovators in this world. Over two days, we were welcomed into the cellars and tasting rooms of Aldo Conterno, Gaja and Renato Ratti. Each spent an excessively gracious amount of time with us and told us their stories and tasted us on their wines as we discussed life, philosophy, business and even beer.

For overview sake, Italy was not taken seriously on the quality wine stage until very recently. While growing a hell of a lot of grapes over a hell of a long period of time, it was not until the 1970’s and 1980’s that the country adopted winemaking practices that showed the world it’s capability of producing world-class wines. Much of this early groundswell began in Piemonte (a name that literally translates to “foot of the Alps”).

Barrel room at Conterno

And behind this driving force, the families of Conterno, Gaja and Ratti (plus a handful of others) fought tirelessly to change centuries of hard-wired perceptions—not just outside of Italy, but also of their very own neighbors and family.  Convincing someone to tear up their vineyards and replant them, or to drastically reduce the amount of grapes grown on their land to increase their quality, is not easy. Why would you ask me to grow fewer grapes (or to toss them to the ground weeks before harvest) when I’ve worked so long to get to this level of production?

The Conterno family was ripped apart over a shift in winemaking philosophies (today, you can find wines from both Aldo Conterno and Giacomo Conterno). Angelo Gaja’s father shed tears every time he passed the vineyard that Angelo had ripped up to plant Cabernet Sauvignon vines in (a grape not previously grown here). Renato Ratti personally analyzed all the vineyards of Barolo; by sampling soils and drawing a map to identify sites capable of producing great, single-vineyard wines, he convinced many growers they had something unique.

Before then, most Piemontese farmers only grew grapes to sell to large cooperatives where they were then made into bulk wines. The idea of growing grapes to produce their own wine was radical.

In meeting these producers and seeing their operations, you can feel their grit, their toughness, their dedication.  Their passion is infectious and their pride in their land unmistakable.  Integrity and class are two words to describe them.

Seeing the geography of this land brought it all home. The comunes of Barolo and Barbaresco are relatively small, but composed of countless, tiny hilltop towns. And when I say tiny, I mean it. One can drive them from start to finish in less time than it would take to finish a three-ounce pour of wine. And if fueled on enough grappa, I just might be able to throw a baseball from one end of town to the other (and trust me, I don’t throw a lot of baseballs).

The private, unlabelled stash of Ratti's Barolo

While there are many grapes grown here (whites like Arneis, Cortese, Moscato, Sauvignon Blanc and Chardonnay, or reds like Barbera, Vespolina, Bonarda or Dolcetto), the queen of the Piedmontese grapes is Nebbiolo. I danced with her many times over the four days I spent in her kingdom. She is a randy, ornery, sometimes viciously powerful lady, but so full of life and depth that one cannot overlook her majesty.

As I tasted and smelled my way through her aromas of tar, leather, violets, licorice, earth and chocolate, my senses were assaulted by complexity. And the legendary grip of her tannins led my gums to shriek and my teeth to writhe in violent embraces. If you’re looking for soft, simple, velvety wines, these are not they. These are wild stallions that will bounce you across the landscape on unpredictable journeys.

Getting muddy as hell at Le Rocche Vineyard (Barolo comune)

As the days wore on, the weather cleared up. And what was once a land of grey mist turned into a wonderland of sunshine and color. Roads I’d driven previously felt new and different. It is a land that one cannot crack in a day, a week, or even a month; and her wines mirror this. And while I was fortunate to meet these three incredible producers and taste dozens of wines, I feel I’ve barely scratched the surface of their world.

On my last day, I went into a cathedral at the center of Monforte d’ Alba and found myself entirely alone. There was not a sound in the air, and my eyes scanned the walls covered in frescoes and sculptures. Centuries of artists had used their hands to shape these walls. And for a moment, I lost myself. I felt connected to the earth and to the heavens; part of something that my mind couldn’t comprehend.

Piedmont had entered my soul and I was but a mere player on its vast stage.

Photos by Kat Bryant Photography

On Italian trains, they don’t mess around.  It ain’t the usual getting your pesky arms or legs caught in the door here…

Good for the heart, good for the mind.  It’s horse meat!  Yep, horse meat!  What fine beverage would you pair with this action?

A foreboding, massive block of granite with ornately carved details covering every inch. Stone figures and vicious gargoyles festoon the walls, looking down on the ever-changing face of Paris over the centuries.

We had just stepped out of the train station and she was our first sight. We were in awe. After running on pure adrenaline for the past few days, our European journey had finally begun.

As the plane descended into Paris, we hit numerous patches of turbulence.  It was like the astronauts of Apollo 13 re-entering the atmosphere after a harrowing journey of obstacle after obstacle. Finally, after countless hoops we had to jump through, we had finally bounded through the last one.

Yesterday, as we sat in a cafe, looking out on the rainy streets, we toasted over a 50 cl pichet of St Nicolas de Bourgueil. As the rain continued, we ordered another. And a Negroni (it was happy hour and we’re budget travelers, what would you expect?).

Day one ended with us hitting the pillow like a coal miner after a long shift. Our bodies were exhausted and confused. Getting out of bed this morning was like rousing Dracula from the dead.

Tonight, we go for our first beers in Europe. We’re blessed to have this time together.

And to the pigs and grapevines of Europe, be forewarned: we’re hungry and thirsty.

Je voudrais un autre pichet de vino s'il vous plait

The Route (click to enlarge)

Years in the making.  Countless hours of dreaming and scheming.  At long last, the portal is within sight.  It’s time for launch.

After seeing the idea evolve from kernel to foggy plan, and now from foggy plan to sharpened reality, we are oh so close.  In eight days time, Kat and I board a plane from NYC to Paris.  On March 30th, we step foot in Western Europe to begin a 3-month journey.

It will be an adventure in traveling, an adventure in culinary and beverage exploration and an adventure of the unknown.  It will be two young souls and their packs.  Armed with a toolbox of maps, we will wind our way through eight countries.  By plane, train, automobile (and a boat thrown in for good measure), we will transition into nomad mode.

Along the the way, we’ll tap into our favorite wine and beer regions, meet some of our favorite producers face-to-face, taste their wares and share a tale or two.

The Itinerary

• FRANCE:  Paris, Loire Valley, Alsace, Burgundy, Jura, Rhone Valley, Provence
  
• ITALY: Venice, Alto Adige, Lake Como, Piedmonte, Cinque Terre, Tuscany, Rome
  
• GREECE: Athens, Rhodes, Santorini
  
• AUSTRIA: Vienna, Kamptal, Kremstal, Wachau, Thermenregion, Burgenland
  
• PRAGUE
  
• GERMANY: Munich, Bavaria, Pfalz, Rheinhessen, Nahe, Rheingau, Mosel, Koln
  
• BELGIUM: Brussels, Brugges, Flanders
  
• AMSTERDAM

Come along with us here on Grapes & Grains.

Are those Sangiovese vines I see on the horizon?

Esporão Verdelho ’10, Ebenauer Grüner ’09 and Gumphof Weißburgunder ’09.  This makes me happy.