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Lake Garda Italy

January 10, 2019 By Jessica McAvoy Leave a Comment

Torri del Benaco, Lake Garda

I admit, Torri del Benaco on the east coast of Lago di Garda (Lake Garda, Italy) was not our first choice.

We had been planning on a few days in Venice before crossing the border into Slovenia and on to Croatia. But a heat wave took hold. Day after day of 100+ degrees traveling on the motorcycle was getting old, and frankly, no fun. The thought of Venice and all the crowds and smells in such thick summer heat didn’t sit well with us. So I did a quick weather search followed by a hotel search. We came up with a number of towns that would only be an early morning ride from Modena, Italy. Criteria: a few degrees cooler, had both pool and ac, and a walkable town for two days of no moto. Torri del Benaco fit the bill.

Located on the east side, where you could say is the ehhm shaft of the phallic shaped Lake Garda, Torri del Benaco is less congested than the other towns. It does not boast the major tourist sites of the lake. It does have a ferry service that connects visitors with those that do. The historic center is surrounded by fortress walls and features a castle, Il Castello Scaligero.

We walked down the steep hill from our rental condo and crossed the busy traffic on the main road and into the historical center of the city. It was hot, and even during dusk, we were sweating standing still. So, like any sane person, we opted for gelato instead of dinner.

The castle stood on one side of the U-shaped harbor, and restaurants and cafes the other. The center of town felt oddly fake and yet utterly real. Locations like this are where Disney gets inspiration from. The clean hues of blue, yellow, and crisp white adorned the dinghy fishing boats. They seemed to hover above the lake which was clear and almost had a mint green tint from years of rain and runoff filtering through the chalky mountains.

Fishing Boats on Lake Garda Italy

A vast stretch of pedestrian pathway separated the tables situated along the water’s edge from their restaurants and cafes. Waiters dodged in and out of the strolling people trying to get libations and delicacies to the tables. They too were soaking with sweat.

We picked our cafe and grabbed a seat. The sun was setting over the mountain opposite us, and the sky and water became one in zebra stripes of pinks, oranges, and yellows. Across the promenade, under a portico, a woman played a double tired keyboard on the accordion setting. Her mop of silver hair swept back and forth across her forehead and cheeks, soaking up the sweat as she excitedly serenaded the German and Austrian tourists. Largo di Garda had been their lake of choice for generations of getaways. A few older couples were dancing with slow, sluggish movement and happy-had-too-many-drinks-smiles. I can’t for the life of me remember the American song playing, but it was a lite rock of the love song type from my childhood, reinvented with a German accent. We were living in the middle of the credit roll from a 1980’s B rated movie.

Motorcycle Over Mt Subasio Italy, My Fears Melted Away

September 27, 2016 By Jessica McAvoy Leave a Comment

Jessica and Daryl McAvoy with BMW Motorcycle Over Mt Subvasio Italy

Taking the BMW GS over Mt Subasio in Umbria, Italy

I was still gripped by fear on many of our rides when we decided to take the motorcycle over Mt Subasio in Italy. Fear of falling off and fear of heights. Yes, I suffered from both when we first started the journey.

The Apennine mountains are like the spine of Italy. Mt Subasio is a park and links the two cities of Spello to the south, with Assisi to the north.

We had lunch in Spello and then decided to cross over to Assisi and catch a few Giotto frescoes in the late afternoon sunlight. The start of the ride consisted of a smooth uphill on paved asphalt. Cobalt blue skies with puffy cotton ball clouds surrounded. Hundreds of cows munched on the grass. It became easy to understand why cheese and gelato are so delicious in Italy when you’ve watched them graze.

The road then turned to loose chalk. I was panicked at first and frozen. Our BMW GS was sturdy, and Red had full command. Within a few minutes, I had confidence in my ability to be a passenger again… without saying oh fuck a million times.

I needed to get over my fears.

By the time we reached the peak, I was utterly calm. I no longer feared unpaved roads or heights. I thought for a split second I could learn to be the rider–then when I hopped on and my feet dangled in the air, I realized how ridiculous that idea was.

Me thinking maybe I can be the rider one day, then realizing my feet come nowhere near the ground.

Motorcycle on the Italy to Croatia Ferry

September 23, 2016 By Jessica McAvoy Leave a Comment

Ferry at the terminal in Split, Croatia

Motorcycles are a way of life in Italy. Everyone has one.

Or they have a scooter. Everbody’s immediate relatives certainly have a few. I read somewhere online–so it must be true–that Italy represents half of all registered two-wheelers in Europe. We are not talking Harleys, though we did see a few. We’re talking about Ducatis, Kawasakis, Yamahas, and of course, my favorite, BMWs. It was no surprise that there seemed to be the entire population of a small hilltop Tuscan village at the port getting ready to start a vacation with their motorcycle on the ferry from Italy to Croatia.

The level of fear I had about taking the ferry from Ancona, Italy, to Split, Croatia was ridiculous. Looking back now so many things that I genuinely feared on this journey were crazy. Travel on mass transit, as in the movement from A to B, has always given me anxiety. I am a control freak. So, I do what I can to control whatever I can. I look at lots of pictures online of the transportation we will be using. I read lots of forum and blog posts about other people’s experiences. And I usually arrive for departure stupid early.

Since I convinced myself from reading horror stories that if we were not crazy early, they would have no room for the motorcycle, even though we had a reservation, I made sure we would be first in line to board.

We were in Italy, so everyone was first to board, whether they arrived early, or right at boarding time.

You see my friends, Italians have a fantastic way of keeping organized chaos when it comes to queuing up for anything, especially transportation. Sometimes I think it’s the culturally accepted lack of personal space. Though, it probably stems from machismo. To my knowledge, I have no German genes, but I am a type A personality.

Give me punctuality and organized lines.

I expect people to listen when the gate agents say stay in your seats and not to get up until they call your boarding zone.

This is just not how the Italians are. Well, except for some peeps from Northern Italy. Their geographic location enabled German punctuality to wharf over and be absorbed.

Ancona Ferry Port

We arrived at the Ancona ferry port and checked in at the general ticket office for Blue Line Ferries. When we booked, we had two choices, Blue Line or Jadrolinja. We choose merely by which boat had the best price. They issued us our boarding passes, checked our vehicle documents, told us which terminal our ferry was departing from and what time we could go to the port. They told us in Italian, and we understood them!

You got this Jes, you are conquering the Italian language, I thought to myself.

Ferry offices and check-in at the Ancona, Italy Ferry Terminal

Camaraderie

There were motorcycles everywhere. We used our Italian language skills, and we did our best to converse with the riders. I quickly realized I was not conquering anything! We were only three weeks into class. I thought I knew what I was saying, but in reality, I was butchering the beautiful language. But you know what? It didn’t matter. They made do with bad English; we made do with nearly non-existent Italian.

The other riders told us what to expect on the boat, how to deal with the bike, what to leave behind and what to take with us to our cabin. We talked gloves, pants, and helmets, and about our sheepskin from Glengarriff, Ireland. Our blue alpine mountain goat (aka a BMW GS) was a looker, and everyone, everywhere on our journey stopped to talk to us about it.

Motorcycles just chillin’ at the Ancona Ferry Terminal

Once the conversation started, all we had to say was two things, and we were members of the cool club. It was like we were instantly invited to sit at the popular kid’s table at lunch in the cafeteria. The two things we had to say to get in were that we were 1. from NY (Ooos and Ahhhhs commenced) and 2. studying Italian in Umbria (bravas and fantasticos commenced). And then, all of a sudden a seriousness kicked in. Helmets went on, and motos took off. They dropped us. Like the kid with the bugger hanging from his nose.

We realized it wasn’t us. It was the machismo.

The drive to the port took us through the outskirts of the city along the water and over train tracks past the station. There was a mass of cars and motorcycles all over, wherever they could squeeze in, at every angle. A few traffic people in neon safety vests tried their best to yell commands–you this lane–you that lane. Horns blared, people shouted, arms flew about cutting through the air with directed precision.

This moment was the start of their vacations. As a result, they were in a rush to get on board to wait to depart. And as I mentioned earlier, it was organized chaos.

But on a motorcycle, things are a little different.

See, cars part way for motorcycles in Italy. Wherever you are (except crazy-ass Naples which is a whole different tale), they naturally move to the right or left when they see you in their rear-view mirror. The man in the car with the kids in the back seat starting his family vacation has been in your boots–riding on a hot summer day on a fully geared up stuffed pig. And someone moved over for him to pass.

All the bikes clustered together at the front. Yes, the asphalt has painted lanes, but these are suggestions. Italy is not Germany (Ok, Germany is one place that I have not been yet, it’s on my list though, so I’m not speaking from any personal experience, just hearsay). Some toughly looking Italians directed the bikes onto the boat and indicated where they wanted each rider to go–right side, left side, next level up, etc. Only half pay attention. The rest do what they want and load up when they feel like it, and park where they want.

When we took the ferry from Ireland to France, we were one of only three motorcycles on board. And English was spoken. Easy peasy. Each bike rider received chock blocks, and we were instructed to park in between the built-in clips on the floor. A guy then came over and strapped the bike to the floor clips. He was kind, made sure we had what we needed, made sure he gently but securely fastened our GS in place.

Again, we come back to the fact that this is Italy.

Italians were talking; we will say, loudly, and throwing hand gestures because we were not quick enough to get our stuff off and get ourselves situated.

My thoughts at this moment: WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON!

I was starting to have a panic attack with full on sweats and a head swirly-I’m-going-down sensation. I tried to ground myself–fixate my gaze on something. I know, gross, but lick my salty, sweaty hand for taste and smell my sweaty shirt — anything to bring me to that moment, right then, and to try to stop panicking.

Daryl could see my face and calmly said take the bags and wait by the door. He knew by the look in my eyes. From 13 years of marriage, he can always recognize that when I quietly start to acknowledge my surroundings, my anxiety is through the roof. The workers strapped the bikes. Basically from one to the next and back rapidly. And I guess eventually to the clips on the floor? Well, there were over 100 motorcycles on board, probably close to 200, all parked in neat and organized rows. It amazed me to look over and see the rows after all the craziness. Looking back, I was ridiculous to think these gentlemen did not know what they were doing.

Motorcycles parked in an organized fashion on the ferry.

We headed up to the registration desk and got our cabin key. The rest of the trip was mostly uneventful except for the funny sign in the cabin bathroom. And the floor full of Italians with all their cabin doors opened singing pop songs or folk songs in unison throughout the night.

A sign reminding you not to flush chips–or your times–yes, it says times, my photo stinks, down the toilet.

Then like arrival, the hour leading up to departure was much of the same chaos.

Everyone started emptying into the general areas near the stairs, escalator, and elevator. Staff had to stand guard so people would not sneak down. Announcements were made over and over again in Italian, Croatian, and English not to go down until directed. Once directed, only motorcyclists could go down. That’s right; motorcyclists go first.

Down we went, then we loaded up. All bikes tried to exit at once because everyone had to be first. Passengers walked down and off the boat–their riders didn’t have time to wait for them to get their shit together and get on the bike. It would prohibit them from being first. Barely on, the riders would back up in a quick fit, and rush down the ramp. A woman with a stroller probably made it past one of the elevator people and got down to the vehicle level before non-motorcyclists were allowed. Seems like she had a death wish because no one gave two shits that she had a stroller and was trying to get to her car. It was like their engines were yelling at her “Lady, it’s not your turn yet!”

The funniest part about everyone having to exit first? Everyone grouped once exited and allowed each other to get in front of the passport check line. Nobody wanted to be first for that part.

Everyone has to be off first.

Sassuolo Baroque Palace — Contemporary Art Italy

September 16, 2016 By Jessica McAvoy Leave a Comment

Camera delgli Incanti Monochromatic Light Sassuolo Image

The listing mentioned frescoes. Since I am always on the hunt for a good dose, we got off the bus in Sassuolo. I thought the first time I heard of the Palazzo Ducale di Sassuolo was on the map that was in my hands for the Discover Ferarri and Pavoratti Land Tour in Modena, Italy. I never expected to find a contemporary art installation in a Baroque Palace. But, this is Italy, so you never really can predict what’s on the other side of a stone fortress.

We were let off just outside the historical city center. Two enthusiastic young ladies, maybe high school age, greeted us. They were sitting on folding chairs under a pop-up tent trying to hide from the relentless sun. They had nightmarishly large textbooks open. It was early afternoon and somewhere between 100 and 110 degrees. Even under the tent, the sun hurt your eyes and skin. One girl had to relentless push her large framed glasses up from the tip of her nose. No doubt they were fast-tracked back down by droplets of sweat. They were eager to leave their posts and show us the way to the Palace. Even more eager to practice speaking English with us.

When we arrived at the Palace, the young ladies introduced us to the curator, Patrizia Silingardi. She asked if we would like a personal tour with her. Of course, we jumped at the opportunity. Patrizia said her English was not so excellent–which, of course, it was–so one of the ladies stayed to help translate while the other rushed back to the bus stop.

The thick stone walls protected us from the torments of the outside heat. We wandered through the rooms of the renovated second floor (what the Italians consider the first). Patrizia explained to us the meaning behind every one of the floor-to-ceiling frescoes. Not an inch uncovered in the palace’s heyday.

Frescoes at the Sassuolo Palace in Italy

Sassuolo Palace, Contemporary Art Meets Baroque Frescos

Some frescoes were better preserved than others. The palace started as a castle and then changed hands to the powerful Este (aka Estense) family. They transformed it into the structure present today. This family ruled many of the cities throughout Emilia-Romagna for a few centuries and were the big daddy patrons of the arts in the region.

When we reached the Salone delle Guardie, I recalled learning of the palace in one of the many art history courses that I have taken over the years. Tromp l’oeil painted by Angelo Michele Colonna tricks the eye into believing the columns are marble and musicians fill the stone balconies above. The tapestry drapes hang with heaviness, and the infantry is in the distance through the painted windows. The information Patrizia provided was outstanding. Then we turned the corner.

Salone delle Guardie frescoes by Angelo Michele Colonna

We entered the Camera degli Incanti, and my heart stood still. The baroque interior contained all the glitz and glamour one would expect — carved and gold leafed trim work, decorative garlands held up over the doorway by putti smiling down, and a variety of marbles patterned on the floor in a way that created an optical illusion. The room filled with natural light.

And the color blue.

It moved blue from the pale to deep, to purple, to green, and every variation in the color spectrum. The exhibition is titled Monochromatic Light.

On each wall firmly stood the moldings that once boxed in the family’s paintings. Now they were home to canvases of various hues of blue created by American and European artists: Winston Roeth, Anne Appleby, Timothy Litzman, Lawrence Carroll, David Simpson, Phil Sims, and Ettore Spalletti. If I recall correctly, the panels illustrated the various tones of blue light you see as the sun enters the space, moves throughout the day, and finally sets. Each panel was different, and they all worked independently and as a whole installation together.

The overall impact created a sense of sunrise to sunset in each space.

The boxes acted as windows framing the sky. As I stood in the center of each room, I faced a pale and subtle blue that worked up to a bright and bold blue, and as I slowly turned around, the deepest and darkest blues enveloped me. I felt the sky changing around me.

The power of the space evoked so many beautiful feelings. I have always been fond of contemporary art that responds to traditional architecture. Our tour with the curator was the icing on the cake. If you understand Italian, this link to a brochure will tell you more show you a few better photos of the palace.

Umbria’s Medieval Hilltop Town Spello

August 6, 2016 By Jessica McAvoy Leave a Comment

Just to the south of Mt. Subasio sits an Umbrian gem. The medieval hilltop town of Spello. The nearby hot shots Perugia and Assisi welcome millions of tourists a year. Not the case here. We wandered the city’s labyrinth without bumping into another native English speaker. Instead, we passed a myriad of stone houses that intertwine with one another and share ancient walls.

Umbria's Medieval Hilltop Town Spello Italy's labyrinth of stone houses.

Quiet streets of Spello

Red geraniums and purple lythrum tumbled out of stone crevices and contrasted with the sun-drenched ammonitico rosso (red limestone). Church walls are seen hanging on for dear life to what is left of 15th-century frescoes by the likes of Perugino and Pinturicchio. There was plenty to explore here. We practiced Italian in the shops and with a local on a bench in the piazza. He said he enjoys the slow pace of life.

Plants tumble from window boxes and out of the walls in Spello.

The best part of stopping in an unplanned city is finding a place to eat. No guidebook in hand, no ratings or reviews pre-examined. We just let the locals direct us. When we saw Extra Vecchio Balsamico Tradizionale di Modena DOP on the table, we knew that they guided us well.

Sometimes, the simplest foods are the ones that give you the most pleasure, because the freshest ingredients are the bare-boned essence of taste. With every bite of my bruschetta from Enoteca Properzio, I closed my eyes and allowed all the flavor nuances to overtake my senses.

Umbria's Medieval Hilltop Town Spello Italy's Bruschetta

Bruschetta at Enoteca Properzio in Umbria’s Hilltop Town Spello

Umbria’s white oak forests are home to some of the world’s best truffles. It should be no surprise that white and black truffle spreads be still the hearts of many travelers to this region. Arugula (or wild rocket) is a favorite throughout Italy with its peppery flavor making a flavorful spread for bread, and also for meat. Then, of course, local heirloom tomatoes that spend their days ripening, and drying in the Italian sun. Both as a spread and as simple chunks drizzled with straight up Umbrian olive oil excited my nose and tongue. We washed it down with local wine, Tenuta Castelbuono Sagrantino di Montefalco DOCG. Let the staff steer you through their outstanding wine collection, after all; they drink this stuff on the regular.

Enoteca Properzio located on Palazzo dei Canonici, Spello, Umbria, Italy

On the table for our 2015 visit: Guiseppe II Extra Vecchia Balsamico Traditizionale di Modena DOP
What we ordered: Selezione di Bruschetta (Selection of Bruschetta): Spello Oilo (Olive oil from the hills of Spello), Salsa al Tartufo Bianco e Nero (white and black truffle spread), Salsa ai Pomodoro Secchi (sundried tomato spread), Pomodoro fresco
Ribollitta Misti di Verdure Stagionali (soup of fresh seasonal vegetables)
Prosciutto di Norcia IGP Panino (Ham of Norcia sandwich)
Sagrantino di Montefalco DOCG Castelbuono 2007 (100% Sagrantino)

Understand Italian Food, DOP

June 8, 2016 By Jessica McAvoy 2 Comments

You tasted a fantastic cheese at a party, and when you asked what it was, your foodie friends threw around a bunch of pointless acronyms. You were like, yeah, whatever, parmesan from Italy, good enough. And you moved on. Then you bought some, and the experience was more like eh, than the wow you remembered. Why is that? Simple. Because you ignored the acronym. You need to understand Italian food, DOP and all. We learned about this a few years back when we decided to explore Italian food, Bologna style, with Italian Days Food Tour.

Parmigiano Reggiano DOP in Emilia Romagna

Wheel of Parmigiano Reggiano DOP aging

Let’s Look at DOP, Simplified

DOP stands for denomainazione di origine protetta. This certification is granted to individual producers when they follow strict production guidelines. DOP guarantees the quality and production specifications in the creation of the Italian food product.

Take Parmigiano Reggiano DOP for example. Milk can only come from cows in Parma, Reggio Emilia, Modena, Bologna (west of the Reno River), and Mantua (east of the Po River). The cheese must be produced and aged in these provinces as well. The birth location and type of cow come into play, as well as what they eat. All these factors must be met for DOP certification.

But, the milk and production location alone does not sanctify DOP status. The Parmigiano Reggiano Consortium sends Parmigiano Reggiano experts to investigate that the cheese making facilities are producing in using traditional methods. Parmigiano Reggiano DOP is made by hand in the same manner as generations past. There are many steps in the process from applying yesterday afternoon’s milk as this morning’s starter, to the size, material, and shape of the cauldrons used, to the wheels used for shaping, and the salt to water ratio of the brine. Each wheel is aged in the region for a minimum of 12 months. After that, there are three additional aging reference points: over 18 months, over 22 months, or 30 months. Each wheel is rotated and brushed clean regularly during aging. The consortium experts check that it is all going as it should.

Rows of Aging Parmigiano Reggiano

Then the real test comes as they check each wheel of cheese with a hammer, needle, and finally a sampling dowel if necessary.

They are listening and looking for too many air holes. The more air holes, the more places that moisture can gain hold and linger causing unwanted mold. The fewer air holes, the longer the cheese can age. They are determining if each wheel rates as DOP if it is ready for market, if it can age longer, and finally if it does not quite qualify at all as DOP and is just “cheese,” which by the way is itself delicious.

How Do You Know if it’s Parmigiano Reggiano DOP?

Take a look at the rind. The visual info found there means everything. You will see an inscription stating PARMIGIANO-REGGIANO, DOP, and CONSORZIO TUTELA. The number identifies the dairy used in the wheel, and the production month and year. You can visit the official Parmigiano Reggiano website and type in the number on your wheel and see what dairy in Emiglia-Romana produced it. Luckily, the consortium has a fact-filled website for your enjoyment before you go to buy your next wedge of Parmigiano Reggiano DOP.

Explore Italian Food, Bologna Style, Aceto Balsamico, Part 3

June 8, 2016 By Jessica McAvoy 3 Comments

On the drive from the Parmigiano Reggiano factory one couple joked they would love to swim in the salt curing water. As I laughed, I remember thinking bring on some more Lambrusco! A long gravel driveway led us to a stately villa. It was 3 or 4 stories high with a bright red terracotta roof. Honestly, I don’t know if it really was or not, but that’s how I remember it. Chickens and roosters scattered into the grass clucking and pecking like mad men as we slowly made our way to an outbuilding. A caramel-y, sweet smell mingled with that of old wine greeted us at the door. We headed upstairs to the attic where traditional balsamic vinegar was aging.

Aceto Balsamico Tradizionale di Modena DOP or Traditional Balsamic Vinegar of Modena

As I recall, tradition dictates that a family can only begin a new batteria, or set of casks, of balsamic at two moments in time–to celebrate a marriage or a birth. Each batteria is crafted of 5 different kinds of wood and arranged successively in size.

Batteria Aceto Balsamico di Modena, Traditional Balsamic Vinegar Casks

A Dark Attic Full of Aceto Balsamico Aging

Each year, the smallest cask gives the vinegar output. No more than 1/3 of its contents can be emptied. The 1/3 that is taken out is replaced by 1/3 from the cask behind it, and so on. Fresh grape juice is added to the largest cask in the back. None of the casks are ever drained, and each become progressively thicker and more syrupy in texture as they become more concentrated over time, down to the smallest cask. This cask contains the most concentrated and longest aged sampling of the vinegar.

The tops of all the casks are covered by a piece of cloth which allows the vinegar to breathe and stops the fermentation process. Without getting to complicated, a sampling is sent to a consortium which blindly taste tests and decides yep, this is the bomb, or nope, goes back in until next year. If not approved for sale as traditional balsamic vinegar of Modena, the villa can sell it as condiment grade vinegar. If given the a-o-k, it gets bottled by the villa in the same 100 ml size and shape bottle used by all the villas approved for sale as Aceto Balsamico Tradizionale di Modena DOP The bottle is then adorned with a color coated DOP seal indicating age, and a label identifying the villa.

Batteria of Balsamic Vinegar Covered with Fabric

Fabric Cloths Cover the Balsamic Vinegar Cask Openings

We sampled many years of balsamic. Each lending something different to our taste buds. True balsamic vinegar D.O.P. as well as balsamic condiment of Modena take on the flavors found in the casks. Oak, chestnut, cherry, juniper, mulberry, etc. Factory condiment does not as it is rapidly fermented in stainless steel so there are no wood nuances to take on. The moment of truth arrives when fresh vanilla gelato is topped with balsamic vinegar aged over 100 years known as extra vecchio.

Extra Vecchio Aceto Balsamico DOP di Modena, Balsamic Vinegar Food is Passion

Official 100 ML Aceto Balsamico di Modena Tradizionale bottle that is used by all D.O.P. approved Aceto Balsamico

Already lovers of true balsamic, we picked up a bottle of the extra vecchio on this tour which recently brought food passion back to me. I often find myself day dreaming of an Italian wedding taking place among the family’s Trebbiano vineyards over 100 years ago when I enjoy our bottle. I find myself remembering amazing Italian meals each time I smell or taste the contents. More so, I remember the company many Italian meals have been shared with–a professor, old and new friends, my husband. I remember the weather, the trip, the table setting. Food is the gateway to memory for me. Aceto Balsamico for me happens to open the gate.

Many Courses, Many Wines

We wrapped up the tour with a beautiful group meal. Alessandro’s partner Barbara joined us with their daughter. Pegged as a “lite lunch” this was far from that. How lite? Many hours long and 7 or 8 courses. We dined on the grounds of an organic winery, Inn, and restaurant.

Rolling hills surrounded us, and the leaves on the vineyards just started to emerge from their winter’s slumber. Alessandro and Barbara’s daughter was just gaining confidence in her little legs. She’d climb down the patio into the grass, and back up, and so it went for a while. Then she’d run to each of us asking for bread, or cheese.

Vineyard Lunch

Each course was paired with a wine from the vineyard. The highlight of the meal for me was ravioli stuffed with potato and mortadella in a butter and sage sauce. Honestly, the rest of the meal is kind of a blur of wine, laughter, closing my eyes in bites of ecstasy, more wine, and more laughter.

This experience was more than a food tour. It was the first time I believe I really adopted my motto that strangers are friends you haven’t met yet. New friends were made that day with one language in common, taste.

Part 1 of 3: Explore Italian Food, Bologna Style with Italian Days Food Tour
Part 2 of 3: Explore Italian Food, Parmigiano Reggiano DOP

Explore Italian Food, Bologna Style, Parmigiano Reggiano, Part 2

June 4, 2016 By Jessica McAvoy 2 Comments

The first stop on the Italian Days Food Tour was a family-run factory making the king of cheese, Parmigiano Reggiano DOP (parmesan as most Americans call it). You could smell a very distinct smell outside the factory. This was Parmigiano. As a scent sensitive gal, I feared this moment since the day I booked the tour, but the smell was completely different than what I feared.

Cheese never entirely agreed with me growing up, so I never took a liking to it. Then, one day I started eating “real” cheeses, and it turns out that it wasn’t the cheese of my youth that disagreed with me, but more likely the fact that I wasn’t eating cheese at all. My mom never liked cheese, so we never ate it, other than grilled cheese sandwiches made with American cheese food product in white or yellow. Each slice was very conveniently individually wrapped.

My childhood convinced me that I did not like cheese. We also had in the fridge a plastic jar of parmesan cheese for my dad. I cringed every time he pulled it out. I hated the smell, despised it even. It reminded me of the odor that permeated when he would take his work boots off at the end of the day. My sister and I would both wince and tell him to please, for the love of God, put your boots outside.

I was pleased to experience that it was not the same smell. The smell was slightly sweet, nutty, and a bit foxy. I will admit though, by the end of the tour it was wearing on me. Much like any strange smell does after a long dose of exposure.

Cheesemakers pull Parmigiano Reggiano out of cauldron on the Italian Days Food Tour

Head Cheesemaker and his assistant pulling the Parmigiano Reggiano out of the cauldron

Ever the light packer, I had two pairs of shoes to select from for the day. Strappy flat leather sandals and hiking sneaks. I chose to wear the former and instantly regretted it. We entered the factory, and a slurry of milky-whey-watery substance that was all over the floor licked the sides of my feet. Lesson learned closed shoes next time you visit a cheese factory.

Except for the slurry, the factory was immaculate. White tile floor and walls and shiny polished stainless steel work surfaces everywhere. Cheese balls were being produced in large copper cauldrons about 6+ feet deep. About 2 1/2 to 3 feet were above ground and about the same or more recessed below the surface.

Unlike other cheese tours, this one presented the entire production process. Morning milk delivery, whey separation, cheese ball pull out and forming, salt bath soak, aging, wheel rotation, and brushing.

We learned all the production steps and tradition that separates Parmigiano Reggiano DOP from just cheese.

It was an honor to meet the head cheesemaker, and if I recall correctly, he has not taken a single day off in over thirty years. He was what I would picture if someone said to imagine the “head cheesemaker.” A happy man, but very serious. It was as if the world was on his shoulders. Each day’s milk delivery turns to tomorrow’s cheese production. If he halts production even one day, he stops the entire process.

There were millions of Euros of cheese wheels aging. Yep, the crap in the plastic container at the grocery store is just that, crap. And, of course, we tasted the amazing cheese. Then the real tasting, Parmigiano Reggiano DOP aged for over 12 years, 20 years, 22 years, and the king, aged over 30 years. Complex, nutty, and refined, we washed it down with beautiful, slightly frizzante local Lambrusco.

Parmigiano Reggiano wheels curing in a salt bath

Back in the van, we were off to a family’s villa that has been producing balsamic vinegar in the traditional method for over 200 years. Explore Italian Food, Bologna Style, Aceto Balsamico di Modena, Part 3

Part 1 of 3: Explore Italian Food, Bologna Style with Italian Days Food Tour
Part 3 of 3: Explore Italian Food, Bologna Style, Aceto Balsamico

Explore Italian Food, Bologna Style

June 4, 2016 By Jessica McAvoy 3 Comments

Some travel experiences have no price tag. These are very rarely tours for us. We’ve had a few meh experiences over the years. It turned us off. The whole idea of spending money to be stuck with a group of people you may or may not hit it off with, and a guide you may or may not relate to, well, is just not worth it. Or at least that’s how we felt until we decided to explore Italian food, Bologna style, with Italian Days Food Tour.

Bologna is in the heart of Emilia-Romagna. Easily one of my top 5 favorite Italian cities for all the usual reasons–art, food, wine–and repeat. Home to what is said to be the oldest university in the world. You pass by smart and sophisticated people on your passeggiare under the labyrinth of covered porticoes. The city is roofed with red terracotta tiles and is strikingly beautiful.

Iconic Red Terracotta Roofs in Bologna, Italy

Art and music abound here. There is a museum dedicated to the still life paintings of Bologna’s own Giorgio Morandi. This city is home to the best damn bolognese sauce. It is, after all, named after the place. For us, priceless travel experiences are always art or food related. Recently I opened a bottle of extra vecchio Aceto Balsamico di Modena that I picked up on this tour and food is passion again for me. This tour opened a door for a genuine appreciation of traditional food production.

It has been a few years since we went on the Italian Days Food Tour yet I still recommend it, with flying hand gestures, to everyone that tells me they will be in Italy.

Going to Puglia all the way in the boot’s heel? I don’t give a shit. I’m still going to tell you to go to Emilia-Romagna and explore Italian food, Bologna style.

So now you ask, what makes this tour so amazing? And no, the company did not compensate me (except for two tickets to the New York Times Travel Show this past January that anyone in the area could get from them), so nope, that is not the answer.

Enter Alessandro Martini, the food-loving mastermind behind this company.

When we took the tour, he had only location going–Bologna. You had two choices, with or without prosciutto farm. With a larger than life personality, it’s no wonder that over the years he has built an empire staffed with food and culture passionate people all around Italy. They are ready to assist you in exploring your Italian desires.

Three things separate him from others giving tours: passion, experience, and connection. He works intimately with small, family producers that create fantastic food using traditional methods. He breathes, sleeps, and of course, eats DOP. Alessandro’s excitement is contagious. You suck up the energy he puts out with every gestural sentence. I do not have one photo of him standing still. Decked out in a sports coat over a graphic tee filled with illustrations of Ray-Bans, and of course, like any civilized Italian, he was wearing a pair of said glasses as well.

Italian Days Food Tour Owner and Guide Alessandro Explains Parmigiano Reggiano

Alessandro, the passionate foodie mastermind behind Italian Days Food Tour

We popped by his booth at this year’s New York Times Travel Show to say hi. Yep, still sporting his fun-loving personality. He told us the Bologna food tour pretty much operates the same (with the addition of white coats, booties, and hairnets).

We first met Alessandro on a May 2017 morning. It was before 7 AM when his sprinter van driver picked showed up at our hotel. There were about 12 of us total. Instantly, we hit it off with the others and realized they were our people! We were all lovers of food ready to fill our senses with whatever Alessandro had planned.

In the van, Alessandro got us all talking-before 7 am-to one another. What?! That’s crazy! Yep, I know.

We learned the difference between I.G.P (indicazion geografica protetta) and DOP (denomainazione di origine protetta), and the importance of DOP certification. Alessandro made everyone feel comfortable. He asked questions and listened. The old-fashioned kind of listening, you know, when a conversation is interactive and not just one waiting for an opening to talk. We learned about each other, what we all did for a living, and a bit about each of our passions for food and life. The lush countryside moved by outside; rolling hills of kelly green grass, and big puffy clouds in the sky. We had no idea what the day would bring us but felt pretty good already that it would be outstanding.

Then we arrived at our first stop, a factory that makes Parmigiano Reggiano, the king of Italian Cheeses. Explore Italian Food, Bologna Style II, Parmigiano Reggiano

Part 2 of 3: Explore Italian Food, Bologna Style, Parmigiano Reggiano DOP
Part 3 of 3: Explore Italian Food, Bologna Style, Aceto Balsamico

One Drop of Balsamic Vinegar and Food is Passion Again

May 15, 2016 By Jessica McAvoy 2 Comments

A few nights ago, for the first time in a long time, I opened up our extra vecchio aceto balsamico tradizionale di Modena D.O.P., aka extra old balsamic vinegar, aka some mind-blowing sh**. We purchased a botted aged for well over 25 years, the family that created it said well over 125 years. Anything more than 25 we just have to take their word for as there is no way to know for sure. We share it with very close foodie friends, and only pull it out for our indulgences on select cuisine occasions. Layers of complexity tasting of figs, cherries, and chocolate just to name a few. The tartness hits you in the right spot on your tongue. There is not the same acid that you experience with supermarket balsamic vinegar which is mostly “cooked” with additives like caramel. Just layers and layers of tradition.

The first touch of the syrupy goodness on my tongue causes my eyes to close and my lips to quiver. One drop of balsamic vinegar and food is passion again.

One taste of balsamic vinegar from Modena and food is passion again.

I have had the joyless experience of spending the entire year up until now on a massive sugar restricted diet. Yeah for my waistline. Boo for my taste buds. For six months while traveling, I obsessively ate truffles. Could this have been the cause of my lovely bout of thrush? Who knows. But as a result, I have had to eat an anti-candida diet. If you have never had this pleasure, be thankful. If you have, I feel your pain. Therefore, this stripped much joy from my life. Yes, non-foodie people right now are saying “quit your complaining, it’s not that big of a deal.” Maybe not, except everything you put in your mouth causes pain and discomfort. Bless you, my food allergic friends. I never understood quite how difficult life was for you. I feel unwavering compassion for you now.

For me, food is the key that unlocks memories of living in a particular time, place, and culture. Food is passion.

I was forced to drive across country with a salad spinner in the back seat. Our stop in New Orleans was spent with me depressingly walking by one restaurant after another that has always been on my food “must do” list. To put the anti-candida diet into some perspective for those that have never experienced it–it is so restrictive I lost 50 lbs in the first seven weeks. Swallow that for a second. It is a lot of weight in a short period. Finally, I leveled off after that. Once the outbreaks stopped, I developed a new assault on my taste buds. Geographic tongue. Google that. Not fun for a foodie either.

This past week I noticed my taste buds started enjoying life again, so I started eating a variety of foods. Mostly my favorites found here on the Big Island of Hawaii that I have been looking past since arriving. Some of this week’s indulgences include malasadas, passion orange guava juice, and a bottle of Chablis. And tonight I will crack open our final remaining gourmet mustard from Fallot–a pinot noir mutard.

Suffice to say I am already 5 pounds heavier… and food is passion once again for me.