Paris to Barbaresco

Ever since planning to come to Paris we had worked in a rather haphazard fashion I’m afraid, on spending quality time in Italy, and in Siena in particular. We quickly discovered that the days of inexpensive intra-European travel seem to be over. Airfares for tickets from Paris Orly to Pisa were astronomical and we waited too long to get anything available on a night train from Paris to Florence.

So we rented a car and drove.

It was a chilly, drizzling Sunday morning as we grabbed our bags and headed off for the Metro at Richard Lenoir. We took the no. 5 to Gare d’Austerlitz where we picked up a car from Avis. Less than a half hour after arriving at the train station we were zipping along the empty streets of Paris looking for the Peripherique, the ring road around the city. A few minutes of uncertainty and we were out of the city and whizzing down the A6 heading south for Lyon and the Frejus tunnel through the Alps and into Italy.

An hour or so after leaving Paris the sun opened up, the skies turned blue and we left the grey overcast of Paris behind us. We had wonderful weather nearly the entire French portion of the trip. But could it last?

We turned left at Lyon and pointed the car toward Italy. Of course the higher we climbed the darker the skies became and the more the temperature fell. As we brought ourselves closer to the snow levels we closed in on the 17km-long Frejus Tunnel. Once we reached the tunnel entrance we disappeared inside the bowels of the earth and the temperatures climbed to nearly 30 degrees Celsius.

As we exited the tunnel we found ourselves in Italy – and in what Noah must seen near the tail end of his trip. Temperature plunged to barely 5 degrees Celsius, the rain was steady and cold and the skies seemed determined to prevent us from seeing not only the Alps but also the cars in front of us.

We pushed on and eventually we descended to the the outskirts of Turin.

Our goal for this leg of the trip was to return to Cascine delle Rose, a wonderful little B & B in Barbaresco. The owners, Giovanna and Italy produce one of the region’s finest selection of Nebbiolo wines, and in particular the Rio Sordo Barbaresco. (“Rio Sordo” means “deaf river” because it only runs underground and you can’t hear it. Aren’t you glad you asked?) We had spent two wonderful but very short nights at Cascine in March of 2007 and have always wanted to come back. What a better way to break up a long drive than a night in one of the world’s finest wine regions?

Although we got a bit turned around looking for the Barbaresco exit off the Asti-Alba road, I stopped at a gas station and asked a man pumping gas how to get to Barbaresco. It seemed we weren’t far and before long we eventually climbed out of the valley and skirted along the switchbacks of one vineyard after another. We passed the village of Barbaresco and two kms later found ourselves pulling into Cascine’s parking lot in the tiny hamlet of Tre Stelle.

We found Giovanna waiting with her typical warm welcome and after we unpacked she offered us a glass of wine. The three of us chatted about our lives, travels and of course Paris, pastries and food, always food.

About 8pm Susie and I braved the rain, got into the car and drove the 2 kms or so to the tiny hamlet of Treiso for dinner at Trattoria Risorgimento. We had eaten here in 2007 and have often talked about this place as a benchmark for the dining experience that appeals to us the most: family-run, no menu, friendly people who treat you like you lived just down the road. And the owner, Ilario, a quiet gentleman with an acute eye for detail and dry wit, was left with the not terribly arduous task of suggesting a wine for us: he chose a Barbaresco from a vineyard in Treiso.

We began the evening with an incredibly delicious mixed plate of antipasti: including a goat cheese with caramelized onion, warm whitefish with potatoes, and my personal favorite, vitello tonnato, thinly sliced cold veal roast with tuna sauce (basically mayonnaise and tuna blended together).

For the pasta course we shared wonderful homemade ravioli stuffed with asparagus (in-season right now) and ricotta. The pasta was phenomenal because it was so incredibly delicate – yet it maintained its structure. It was truly something that amazed both of us – and before we left Susie spoke with the chef responsible for making the pasta (Ilario’s daughter) who kindly gave her the recipe. Our conclusion is it has to be the flour. It always seems to be the flour.

For the final course Susie had succulent chicken pieces that had been pan sautéed; I had veal in Barbaresco sauce – both came with roasted potatoes and carrots.

The rain was stilly falling lightly as we left the restaurant – the visibility had cleared a bit though and cruising along the spine of the narrow ridge on our way back to the B & B we could see lights way off in the distance. A good sign perhaps that Monday would bring sun?