3rd June 2000 Poggio (Medici Villa), Artimino
Trip Start
Apr 27, 2000
1
38
81
Trip End
Aug 09, 2000
Vellano (Pescia),
Italy
Thursday, June 26, 2003
Because of our late night, the previous night, we didn't get away from Florence till around 11.30. We had planned to visit the Medici Villa at Poggio a Caiano and then have lunch at our fifth "plate" restaurant, before driving to Pescia by mid afternoon. For starters, we had trouble getting out of Florence. On arrival in Florence, Carlo had drawn us a map, to drive to the Commercial Centre. This was the map that headed off up a three kilometre stretch of one way street, that scared me into discovering the local shops I have already written about. Well, this was the direction in which we needed to go, and were we grateful never to have followed through with the trip earlier in the week. We may never have made it back. As it was, we had to skirt around the north western side of the airport, and try to connect with the main road to Pistoia. We ended up lost in a mire of very narrow one way streets, in one of those hundreds of tiny villages that line the road for 40 kilometres to Montecatini. The have virtually all joined together to form one long strip of village, backed by industry that stretches between this road and the main motorway that runs from Florence to Lucca. I finally gave up and stopped to ask instructions. Wouldn't you know it, it was the next street up. So finally we make it to Poggio a Caiano, where we have to park a kilometre away (because it is on a one way street, and we are at the wrong end) and hike up the road. And it is a stinking hot day. We bought our ticket at the gate and wandered up through the front garden, only to discover that the admission must be accompanied by a guide, and that they open the doors on the half hour. Missed it by 5 minutes. Quick mental arithmetic tells us that if we wait another 55 minutes, then take 20 minutes to get to the restaurant, it will probably be around 2.30, and we might be too late. So, we decided to go straight to the restaurant, time how long it took, and then make sure we left the restaurant with enough time to drive back for the 2.30 opening of the Villa. Best laid plans of mice and men...again.
The village in which the restaurant is located, Artimino, is right on the northern end of the Chianti region. Unfortunately, to get to it, you have to travel via two other villages, which like Poggio a Caiano, are just mazes of one way streets, completely surrounded by olive groves and vineyards. Why they need one way streets, is because the streets are only wide enough for one car. Fair enough, but the least they could o is to indicate which sequence of one way streets actually leads you out of the town, and in particular, on to the road that leads to the next town. On leaving the second town, we checked the map, and figured that as there were two exits to the south, both of which eventually lead to Artimino, we might press on. Five minutes later we are lost in the vineyards. We stopped and asked a couple of young guys, who hopped in their car and lead us up to the turnoff. We eventually entered Artimino from the south (we had set out from the north), half an hour after leaving Poggio for what we expected to be a ten minute drive.
Da Delfina sits at the bottom of the village, but on the top of the hill that looks out to the south over rolling hills covered in vineyards for as far as the eye can see. On this particular day, the smog haze which is common most of the time, wasn't too bad, and we could see a long way. It also looks out on Villa Artimino, a Medici hunting lodge. This was the place where the boys would go off alone for a bit of hunting, leaving the women back at Poggio.
On this particular day, we were seated at the table on the verandah, right at the front next to the railing, with a canvas awning overhead and a cooling breeze easing the heat. Several hundred metres around the ridge from us was the hunting lodge (about the size of the Carrington at Katoomba), with a great marble staircase facing us, and a bridal party having their reception. This was to our left, and from there on, the rest of our vista were the rolling hills of vineyards. Probably the most stunning setting for a restaurant we have had, even rivalling Positano, which considering my affinity with the sea, is saying something. Our waiter wasn't going to crack it for a smile, or enter into even polite conversation, so we gave up trying and didn't let him spoil the occasion. Ches now has a theory that if we don't pre-book, they get shirty. Mary doesn't think it is an issue, but who knows. Anyway, several of the other waiters were cheerful enough and the other diners added to the atmosphere, so we had a wonderful lunch. Ches had Bean and Pinenut Salad and the plate dish Rabbit with Black Olives. The beans were cannelini, cooked, cooled and drizzled with olive oil, with raw pinenuts and parsley-delicious. The Rabbit was sensational, a tad salty, probably from the olives. Ches has come a long way, now eating the occasional olive, but these were too much. I had Penne with Rabbit Sauce which was very good without being sensational, and Grilled Lamb, which turned out to be six baby lamb chops that occupied the entire plate. Again, we had forgotten that you have to order vegetable separately. Nevertheless, they were wonderful on their own. As Mary later explained, sheep are largely kept for their milk to make cheese. They don't have grazing country, nor can they spare land for it Consequently, the lambs are butchered very young, and really is "spring lamb". We again stuck to the house red (a half jug) and a bottle of mineral water. The house reds are always of a great standard. When I wouldn't know what to order from the wine list anyway, the jug of house red has never let us down. (Here at Vellano, Mary buys her red in bulk from one of the locals, and decants it as she drinks it. Works out at L3,000 per bottle, and it is fabulous.) With time running out if we are to get back to Poggio for the next opening, we suddenly struck up a conversation with an English couple at the adjoining table. Their daughter (3 or so) had been really well behaved throughout the meal. They have been to this area for eight of the last ten years, and raved about it and the local wines.
We were late for the next viewing at Poggio, so sat outside the door and killed the half an hour. Once inside, it was really something. We entered from the ground floor, below the huge marble staircase (obligatory). Now I assume that they would have entered via this staircase, and therefore, would then have used the internal staircase to go downstairs. Here at the front, was a "sitting room" around 10 metres square. Fairly subdued decor as it turned out, compared with the rest of the villa. This then led into a theatre. Curtained stage with a painted backdrop, balcony, and private boxes and lush decor. This in turn lead to the billiard room. Two full size tables, couches, including back to back models in the middle to view both tables, and frescoes that attempt to bring the outside inside-all are garden scenes-overgrown garden scenes. Back to the sitting room to the staircase upstairs. Two more floors of bedrooms, sitting rooms and studies, and a ballroom that took up almost one entire floor (probably 40 metres by 25 metres). All walls, and many ceilings frescoed. Suddenly it becomes obvious that the intent was to emulate the Roman villas in terms of decoration. The choice of frescoes over paintings for their country estates, reminds us of the frescoes in the villas of Pompei, particularly the rooms that portrayed Greek and Roman myths and legends, as well as the country scenes. It had been well worth the trouble to get there, and after 35 minutes, we were escorted back out into the heat. Suddenly we appreciated the other major attraction in country villas. The walls are so thick that they remain cool even in the heat and humidity of summer.
Our solution was to visit the bar near where we had parked, for a mineral water and gelato. Back in the car, we decided to just continue on the Pistoia road, rather than cut across to the motorway. Fine, up to a point. It is direct, but slow. As previously noted, it is just ribbon development the whole way. On the outskirts of Pistoia we found the signs directing us to the motorway for Lucca, entered it, and promptly took the wrong lane when it split, and found ourselves heading for Bologna, which is on the other side of the mountains. We promptly took the first off ramp, re-aligned ourselves on the map, and decided to drive the mountain road to Vellano. Up in to the mountains, and Ches says, "it's all under control, we don't have to turn left till Goraiolo. As we pass through village after village, and Ches says "they are to small to feature on the map, just keep going till we get to Goraiolo, I am beginning to regret having given her the map. We had decided some time ago that the best way to avoid heated arguments was for me to both navigate and drive. When we came to a town called Prunetta, which was quite substantial, and Ches again claimed it wasn't on the map, I decided there had to be a mistake. We had missed the turnoff to Goraiolo by 7 km. In this mountain country, with roads barely wide enough for two cars, heavy undergrowth and forests all around, no visibility around bends, and the need to sound the horn at every bend, 7km is a bloody long way. We retraced our steps, found Goraiolo, and proceeded around the mountains, with the clock now heading toward 8.00 pm. Mary would be sending out a search party. Located Vellano, but not a hope of finding a street sign. Her street doesn't appear on any maps because it is halfway down the side of the mountain. These mountain roads are even too narrow for a u-turn, so we had to find a driveway on the high side, reverse into it, and then head back into the village. Again a friendly local hopped in his car and lead us back out of town to the road down the mountain. This one is only wide enough for one car. If you meet someone coming the other way, one of you has to reverse back to a bend, where there is enough room to pass. Off we head down the mountain, winding back and forth, not knowing just how far down to go. After some time, we can hear horns blasting on the road way above us. I did consider that it could be Mary and that we may have passed her drive and she was chasing after us. As it eventuated, we saw her name on a post, and pulled into the drive, only to have in a matter of seconds, a rally car roar past with horn blaring, followed every ten seconds or so by another rally car. This went on for an hour or so. Mary was really pissed off. There had been no warning to locals. If we had been five minutes later, we could have been shunted off the mountain. Then again, had we not missed to turnoff back at wherever, we would have been there half an hour earlier, and it wouldn't have been an issue.
Mary opened the beers, and an hour later we were refreshed, and ready for dinner. Just knocked up a pasta with a sauce of our Norcia sausage, tomatoes and bits and pieces. We didn't even bother to unpack, but fell in to bed.
