Monday, September 7, 2009
Today I attended my first "intensive" language class. After an hour of speaking (in Italian) about food, our professor walked us around Siena, showing us where to buy our books and where to find the best gelato. We were later rewarded for our hard work with a wine tasting class in the beloved Enoteca, a revered place of wine-worship in which Tuscan vino is studied, preserved, and sold.
Each of us were given three glasses, two red and one white. First, we were told to look at the wine and examine the color of it when held up against a white napkin. Next, we inhaled deeply several times to experience the smell. Afterwards, we spun the wine so we could examine the 'arches' of it's residue on the glass (more arches indicate more alcohol and slower-developing arches signify a bolder taste). Then, and only then, were we permitted to taste the wine with our eyes closed, letting it hit every inch of our tounge. Who knew drinking could be so complicated?
While I may not have fully appreciated the subtle distinctions in the taste of the wine, I did enjoy the stories behind the labels. In particular, the last red wine had a picture of Cinderella on the label because it came from a vinyard sandwiched between two of Tuscany's greatest wine makers. But, just as "everyone know's that Cinderella ends up with the prince," one day, this vinyard hopes to dwarf the leading competitors.
We followed the tasting with a tour of the cellar and around 7:00, we set out for dinner and about an hour later, we finally decided on a trattoria near our apartment. It is truly a miracle anything ever gets done in Italy. Maybe Italians consider unattentive waiters generous because they allow diners to talk in privacy, but hungry Americans such as myself find it frustrating and tedious. The food is phenomenal, but the service is reminiscent of a DMV.
Today I attended my first "intensive" language class. After an hour of speaking (in Italian) about food, our professor walked us around Siena, showing us where to buy our books and where to find the best gelato. We were later rewarded for our hard work with a wine tasting class in the beloved Enoteca, a revered place of wine-worship in which Tuscan vino is studied, preserved, and sold.
Each of us were given three glasses, two red and one white. First, we were told to look at the wine and examine the color of it when held up against a white napkin. Next, we inhaled deeply several times to experience the smell. Afterwards, we spun the wine so we could examine the 'arches' of it's residue on the glass (more arches indicate more alcohol and slower-developing arches signify a bolder taste). Then, and only then, were we permitted to taste the wine with our eyes closed, letting it hit every inch of our tounge. Who knew drinking could be so complicated?
While I may not have fully appreciated the subtle distinctions in the taste of the wine, I did enjoy the stories behind the labels. In particular, the last red wine had a picture of Cinderella on the label because it came from a vinyard sandwiched between two of Tuscany's greatest wine makers. But, just as "everyone know's that Cinderella ends up with the prince," one day, this vinyard hopes to dwarf the leading competitors.
We followed the tasting with a tour of the cellar and around 7:00, we set out for dinner and about an hour later, we finally decided on a trattoria near our apartment. It is truly a miracle anything ever gets done in Italy. Maybe Italians consider unattentive waiters generous because they allow diners to talk in privacy, but hungry Americans such as myself find it frustrating and tedious. The food is phenomenal, but the service is reminiscent of a DMV.
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