Maremma - Undiscovered Italy
Light and Wine for Painters and the Dreaming Kind
Sunsets and views to die for
The work of a wine writer often touches glamour. There's no denying it, but I'm not sure if these words are part of any form of glamour at 2am, as I start up the car before a three hour drive to Bordeaux Airport. This is the beginning of a long day when patience will be tried, and will end with me staring about bemused as my batteries run out, and that will take me to Southern Tuscany, via Nice and Rome.
At first, the journey to Mérignac Airport is so smooth that I almost wish the sun was up so I could enjoy the countryside, but a couple of hours later, my confidence is dented by the confusion over which car parking space I've booked, and as I scuttle into the terminal I'm still not sure if it was P1 or P2, before I quickly peed off to catch my flight to Nice.
I'm in an aisle seat and only catch a few views of the Côte d'Azur as we descend, but with my tight schedule that is all I'm permitted to see, because after landing and wrestling my case from luggage handling I have to rush from this terminal to the terminal where my next flight will take me to Rome.
I'm not going to lie. I'm a panic thanks to some sort of bureaucratic tit-for-tat that means all Brits will be checked thoroughly, looked at suspiciously, and then sneered at with an accent that is so heavy it could win a weightlifting competition.
The hours I'm told to arrive have evaporated and become mere minutes, and I'm planning alternate routes to get me to Rome, if I miss this flight, when two pieces of good fortune come my way.
The Italian Coast
The first is that the hectic run I'm about to strain over is curtailed with the arrival of a useful shuttle tram that arrives to take me to the departure terminal for the Rome flight.
The second piece of luck is the determinedly ponderous way the check-in people are working their way through the crowd, and by the time I'm through I've caught up time like a Dr. Who special effect, and I've actually got moments to sit and wait before boarding the plane, with its leather seats, free drinks and cabin staff who nurture you back to calm and smiles, and before I have time to finish my drink and snack we're heading down towards Rome, and I start to relax. That is until I see the storm-dirty underside of clouds, and I expect heavy showers of the thunder and lightning variety. This is not what I'm expecting from Italy, and I feel slivers of fear because this weather condition is my phobia, and now questions of decorum raise their head. How will I respond in front of my hosts, my fellow travellers and anybody who responds badly to a screaming man in a panic?
Thankfully, the weather behaves itself better than I would have, and does its best to warm us over the next few days, and this gives me a chance to take in the start of this wine adventure.
At the airport, there are five of us, and we are met by out hostess from Studio Cru (Elena – a wonderfully friendly person) who quickly gets us on board our bus/van, before before we make a Formula One journey north into Tuscany. I sigh, because until today I’d never been to Rome, and this is as near as I’ll come on this trip. They'll be no Coleseum, no Trevi Fountain, and certainly no chance to people watch from a cafe by the Spanish Steps, as seen in The Talented Mr. Ripley.
The taxi driver seems to be auditioning for Ferrari, although I suspect he's keeping something in reserve so that his passengers can partially see the blurs of coast and countryside as we swish through. To this man lines in the road are advisory, and the speed limit is just another road sign to be ignored. I expect they'll be hell to pay if the toll barriers rise too slowly and he has to make a gear change downwards!
All roads lead to wine
Italy is a land that excites me just as much as driving quickly excites our driver, but it's not a place you can see at a distance. This is a country that was built for contact and immersion, and where involvement is a way of living. Life is to be experienced here, and not talked about, because talking should be reserved for food, wine, football, religion, and affairs of the heart, and not necessarily in that order.
In no time, that typical undulating Tuscan countryside is all around us, like a slightly rumpled duvet, and the odd flock of sheep munch their way through shrubbery, and I imagine that they're discussing what sauce would go well with their hedgerow meal.
Minutes later, we park up at a small, inviting restaurant where a welcoming group of people wait to make sure we are looked after, and as we start to get to know each other, a light lunch of food the colour of the Italian flag is laid on the table.
It's a Caprese salad that is so fresh it's flirting with my tastebuds, and those tomatoes have something I've not tasted in an age. It could be flavour, but I'm so unused to it that I just can't tell. Perhaps I need to dive in for more before I can make a decision, and obviously I need to sample the Pecorino that has just arrived. This is so welcoming, and simple, that it allows us to get to know those we're here to see.
We are met by Sergio Bucci (director) and Slawka Scarso (who will take us through a tasting of the wines) from Cantina Vignaioli Scansano, our hosts for the next couple of days. We get to know each other through a mixture of enquiring questions, gentle humour and a shared passion for the wines and food of Italy, and as I look about me all I'm seeing are contented people realising just how lucky they are. Our small sized group means that no-one is left alone, and conversation flows and a lot of common ground is found.
Our tastebuds have been tickled, but will have to wait until later before the next rendezvous, because we have an interesting diversion on the way to our hotel.
The Tarot Garden
You'll thank your lucky stars that you're here
What a colourful devil you are
If you've never visited The Tarot Garden, then can I more than recommend this most unique of sculpture parks. Of course Italy has so much sculpture that you could spend a lifetime roaming from one to the other, staring at cheeky bits, and you'd still not see them all, but this homage to the esoteric tarot, built by the French-American artist Niki de Saint Phalle is one of the most visually arresting you'll come across.
Everything has a tinge of the Guadi influence, and her large mosaic-tiled sculptures doesn't hide away, they demand that you look at the Rubenesque figures and see the sense of humour and sensuality that runs through her work. We learn about areas of her life, and it makes you wonder where she actually found even a sliver of humour that delights us all. This is a place where interaction is a must, and you can't help but touch these sculptures, when possible. All too soon, we're back on the coach and heading to our hotel.
Our destination is the Antico Casale di Scansano, which does a fine impression of the hotel you always wanted to stay at in Tuscany. It perches on a hill in all its lovely Tuscan deliciousness, and is like a chest of hidden gems that are waiting to be discovered. If it had a piano, I’d been playing a gentle jazz soundtrack to accompany our arrival. It’s just a shame that there’s no piano, and I can’t play. The place is deceptively large, and situated on a variety of levels that hide it in nooks and crannies ripe for the inquisitive (when I return home and tell my wife about it we decide that a visit next year is a must).
Antico Casale di Scansano
After a slight rest, a shower and change, we board our transport and are taken through twistingly beautiful vistas where our cameras cannot do enough justice, before being deposited at a restaurant with a view that proves if God loves anything, it's Italy (the first description I wrote was a little bit more earthy). We head to the terrace for a pre-dinner glass of giggles and enviously curse that Italy has been truly blessed.
From the terrace of that restaurant there are views of landscapes that stretch seductively into the distance, and you know your vocabulary will always prove inadequate when you try and describe it. From one side you have a view that encompasses a romantic bay stretching away, while in the foreground a lone villa is the emperor of all it surveys, and has me enquiring how much it would be to buy.
The other view that holds us prisoner is rolling hills crowned with an idyllic sunset that has us all snapping away, trying to capture the moment, but knowing that nature has defeated us. Take my advice and get here to experience it, and then buy me a glass of Sangiovese later.
All too soon, it's time to eat. Anywhere else and this might be a cause for sadness, but this is Italy, and surely one never needs to explain the joys of Italian food.
Can anything be more beautiful than an Italian sunset?
If I'm honest, the aubergine starter is not to my taste (because I just can't get along with aubergine) but I make a good fist of it, but I don't have to wait long before my appetite is satisfied, because thankfully, the cheese baked with veg (fennel I think) is stunningly simple and so moreish that I’m yumming over each mouthful as we pair it with the wines from the Cantina.
I’m lucky enough to be sat between Sergio and his charming wife, and the conversation is dominated by introductions to the expressively engaging wines, which, tonight, are variations of Vermentino (even the sparkler we had on the terrace) but as the evening continues, a range of cheerful topics come up and we all have our chance to be the focus of the evening as Sergio is obviously eager to know as much about us as we are to know about him and the wines.
I think the evening is a great success, and though our whole visit to this area will be short, it has been balanced just right, and already I know it is going to be far too short, and only a snap-shot of thoughts mean a second visit is a must.
Towards the end of the evening my long day of travel catches up with me and I start to flag, and by the end I’m stumbling through conversations, and I welcome a return to the hotel, and my very welcoming bed, at 11.30. It doesn't take too long before I fall asleep.
Day 2
Today holds the familiarity of a vineyard visit and the uncertainty of an electric bike ride, and while I'm always excited by the former, the latter holds an array of heightened nerves, particularly when one of our merry band tells me about falling off one because he wasn't paying attention. Of course I'll watch myself, but events can often get beyond one's grasp.
Before the challenge of the velocipede, we wait in the sunshine admiring the verdant views that lie before us like a gift on Christmas Day, and then our bus arrives and we pile inside.
I'm thankful that on the way to Cantina Vignaioli Scansano, we are stuck behind a dawdling three-wheeled Piaggio, because this seems to calm our driver down after the way he threw the van/bus about yesterday, and before he works out how to overtake in the narrowest of spaces we arrive at a building dominated by ultra clean-lines that show Italian architecture and design at it's best. The Cantina group have been very proud owners since 2018, and I realise that this is not what one thinks of when the words 'wine co-operative' are uttered.
We wait in a light and airy atrium until Sergio Bucci (the General Manager) and Slawka Scarso (the Marketing Communication Manager) arrive, and we welcome each other like old friends. After all, we shared a great meal with them last night, and in Italy that practically makes us family.
Before we start a tour of this impressive facility, we are given some of the background on how this wine producer has grown, adapted and is amazing all those who taste their wines.
Doors are to be explored. There might be wine or food after all
Labelled with love
In Scansano, wine culture is rooted in history. The Etruscans were the firsr to realise the potential of the area. Amphorae, bearing stamps of the wines of Maremma have been found in the south of France, and the Romans developed the winemaking potential further.
The Cantina produced their first vintage back in 1975, and in the first few years things didn't go as smoothly as they'd hoped, and the management didn't seem to have their eye on the ball. Thankfully, that has all changed.
The soil here can be sandy and has sometimes proved a barrier to producing the quantities required, and after struggling along in those first few years, in the 1980's a decision was made to head for quality.This was obviously a turning point, and while the wines produced were successful locally, it didn't take long before the reputation and fame grew, and people started to actively seek out the wines of Maremma, instead of just settling for those of its north Tuscan neighbour.
As we tour, for some reason, I find the winery of Cantina Vignaioli is laid out in a way that makes the processes they use easy to follow, and each stage of production flows from one position to another with no mystifying machinery to baffle. I like this because it means that there is no distraction between the story of production and the appreciation of the wines.
The bottle room runs smoother than a Maserati's pistons and our party watch the journey from empty vessels to full receptacles of Vermentino, Sangiovese, or whatever else this most Willy Wonka of production lines choses to bottle. We try to discuss the various elements we're watching, but the loud rattle of glass protests as it rides to its final destination, and this makes conversation redundant until we are outside in the south Tuscan quiet. I just marvel at the way that the women who work in there can keep their hearing when they don't wear ear-defenders. They mustn't mind because they had smiles constantly on their faces.
Don't mind if I do Sergio
Listening to Sergio as he talks about the glue that keeps this business together, it is obvious that this is a place where honesty is valued and the story would be nothing without its constant application to the principles of wine making and nurturing good relationship with its growers, and we are all eager to listen to more as we sit down to taste a variety of bottles that the Cantina produces.
If yesterday was set aside to demonstrate the versatility of what can be done with Vermentino, today is Sangiovese day, and we start with one called Roggiano.
This is named after a bush, and it's a very traditional tasting wine for the Cantina. The 2024 we try starts with slight spices dancing together with creamy red fruit, before a hint of green tomatoes say ciao. The balance is there, as is the freshness, and the ripe cherries aren't far from the tastebuds. If this is the start, I can't wait for more.
The next contestant in this viticultural beauty contest is the BIO version, also a 2024, and this is as gorgeous as Claudia Cardinale in The Pink Panther. I'm getting a nudge of floor polish, dusty dirt, and red fruit that is so friendly it's almost shaking my hand. There's a rich, lovely liquorice mouthfeel that keeps your interest. This wine has length, and as you continue to taste, it also gives you candy and floral notes of violet.
I'm still involved with the BIO as the Vigna Benfizio 2024 is being poured, and I force myself to move along to this offering from a single historic vineyard.
If I thought you couldn't get better than the last wine, I'd underestimated what is in this glass, because it's a riot of flavour designed to keep your interest. The floral is there, before I'm getting a slight peppery spice mixed with ripe tomato, and this is just on the nose. In the mouth there are red fruits, Chantilly cream and a pleasure that is utterly delightful. I'd like to have a glass of this with a big rich tomato pizza as I overlook that distant bay I saw yesterday evening.
No time to waste, because Sergio is interested in what we make of some of their earlier offerings, and our party starts with the 2021 BIO which I find to be good on the nose, and that grows in taste as you give it time. There's a darker cherry flavour to this and I'm getting a hint of leaf that settles in nicely.
If I thought the '24 BIO was a winner, then the '21 shows where they are aiming, as the floral nose has a solid backbone of violet and tomato plant, while the taste produces candied liquorice and a range of dynamic flavours that make this an interesting and honest wine that engages the tastebuds.
Vigna Benfizio 2021 keeps the group interested, as we discover fresh cherries, perfumed floral notes, and thoughts of how well this would accompany a piece of blueberry cheesecake.
Can it get any better? I'm learning to not underestimate what is in my glass as the Riserva 2022 makes its presence known. Take a sniff and that nose is so fruity as an arrangement of strawberry, raspberry and cherry tomatoes want to get in on the act. This time there's a bed of white pepper and it's pure Sangiovese at its best. In the mouth I'm getting more white pepper, and there's a spot of lavender thrown into the mixture. The tannins are initially pronounced, before going back into their shell and allowing you to say thank you for the introduction.
As each wine is tasted, and purred over, we are told the price that they sell for, and it's a wonder we don't spit out the wine in shock, because they aren't just reasonable, they are incredibly priced, and you can tell that some of our party are cursing that they only brought carry-on bags with them.
By way of a breather we have a tasty lunch that is accompanied by a Sangiovese Passionate that we can't stop revisiting, in between revisiting all the other wines we're served with this riot of culinary flavours. The winemaker comes to eat with us, and is obviously bemused that this group of people in front of him haven't discovered these beautiful wines an age ago. Maremma wines seem to have a warmth that almost tickles the palette, and I find them more fruity and more immediate than a lot I've tasted from north Tuscany.
All too soon, the wines have been tasted and appreciated, the food has been as enticing as Italian food always is, and it is time to board our Ben Hur's chariot for the journey back to the hotel.
It is our last day with Sergio, as he’s retiring from the field of play to attend to other things. We will miss him and his warm sense of humour, but I’m sure the Cantina has other people, just as welcoming, waiting in the wings, but Sergio has proven to be an excellent representative of Cantina Vignaioli Scansano, and great company, and I hope to meet up with him again in the future.
Following a spot of downtime (I'm still tired) where I explore the hotel, check-out the swimming pools (too cold) walk a hidden path that leads down to a paddock with goats and horses (very cute) and spend a pensive moment gathering thoughts about bikes, and writing up my notes on the balcony.
Finally, I must face my worries of what riding an electric bike will entail. Instructions are explained, but I'm a man and by the time our instructor has finished, I've forgot it all and hope that busking it might work.
As edible as it looks
It does on the first part, because this is a simple free-wheel steeply downhill, where the only problem is constantly using the brake. This allows me to ponder the nagging feeling that it won't be this easy when we make the return trip uphill!
We dismount gracefully, or in my case fall off, and are stood in one of the producer vineyards that serve the Cantina, and it is here that one of the two agronomists talks us through the demands that are made, and rewards that are earned, before a farmer can join this co-operative. There's also an in-depth discussion of the high trellising, and the general health of the vines.
He is assisted by Margareta, the export manager, who not only looks after the various markets for the wines, she has a fondness for football and is very much at home on her electric bike.
With the way I ride, I'm impressing nobody as I struggle to achieve any forward movement with the bike I've been given, and it's only when I dismount, and look at the upward journey we have to make for our return, and almost cry, that our guide points me in the direction of the magic ‘boost’ button.
Suddenly the world's in colour as the bike develops a mind of its own, as though I've been holding it back, and in no time I'm racing up the hills at 23km without breaking a sweat, unless I think about the 'boost' button failing. Thankfully, I make it back in one piece, and the only problem is walking after such a long bike ride, as I don't think I'll ever be able to move properly again. I hate to be blunt, but I look like I've been savaged by a randy rhinoceros!
Until I discovered the magic 'boost' button, I preferred my bicycle at a distance
Always time for arty Italian landscapes
Later, we share our final meal, and it's no half-hearted last supper, as a general air of camaraderie prevails and sweeps us all along in a way I’ve not quite experienced on one of these press trips before.
The locale is the restaurant of the hotel itself, which is renowned as one of the best meat restaurants in Italy, and there are enormous hunks of hanging flesh from a variety of animals on offer. All you have to do is cook, carve and chew.
The veggies are catered for by a plate of falafel which was very tasty, after the initial thought that I'm eating falafel, but it lacks the drama of the sizzling meat, and the tiny axes that are given instead of knives.
I don’t know if it was my early start on this trip yesterday, or the cycling, but once again I find myself flagging, and by 11.10pm I am tired and head to my room for another straight-to-sleep event. On the way to my room I reflect on a trip that has been so well-organised and full of things to occupy the group that I'll be sorry to leave, but this is a Studio Cru event, and they never fail to impress.
Land of dreams
Day 3
Breakfast is a pensive affair, and though people chat and share experiences, there is a lot of mulling over this last few hours before we head to Rome Airport. The thoughts most of us share, is how short this has been, and how much more there is to discover in this hidden gem of an area.
Before it's time to go I pop into reception to buy a tin of local olive oil. I hope it's as interesting as the label, which seems to have some sort of diabolic picture of a goat in a shirt on the tin.
The trip back to the airport starts with those familiar undulations of Tuscany, and we look about with besotted dreams of what it would take to buy a villa, but the nearer we get to Rome, for a time, the scenery becomes a little brutal, before this is replaced by land gently sloping down to the sea, and villas containing lucky people thanking their stars for depositing them in this location. They may not be as lucky as the inhabitants of Tuscany, but they've not done too bad for themselves.
We arrive back at the airport, and with a speedy goodbye to our even speedier driver, we head inside for a last goodbye to the ever tolerant and fine Studio Cru representative that is Elena. She has been our guide, our director, our angel, and I know that we cannot thank her enough. I've been on a few trips with her and I'm always amazed at how enthusiastic she is.
Our group start towards security, before I realise that I have to check my bag in (they've all got carry on) and with a brief, ‘I’ll meet you in the coffee shop on the other side’, my companions head through, and I head to check in my suitcase.
I am too early for the Bordeaux flight and will have to wait another hour and a half before my flight is called. I send a message saying that they will have to start their Lungos without me and feel that a snack will help to pass some of the time. In doesn't, and in no time at all I'm doing the man-thing of standing in front of the check-in board hoping that my presence will make the time move quicker.
It doesn't, and just as I'm starting to wish I'd have tried to make a very quick visit to the centre of Rome (this is a similar decision to the Verona trip I was on) I’m being called to check-in, and then it’s through customs, and after a walk past a wealth of fine shops for the wealthy, I settle down to eat at Sophia Loren’s restaurant.
She’s not there today, and I figure it must be her day off, or she's out back doing the washing-up. This is a shame as I wanted to tell her how very tasty her pizzas are, especially accompanied by a beer, which is always my drink of choice at the end of an Italian trip.
Before I become too maudlin, my flight is called and I'm heading to the gate for my flight back to Bordeaux and before I know it I've landed and have to face the three hour journey back.
Can an airport be interesting, after the tenth time?