A Vineyard in Tuscany by Ferenc Máté

Author:Ferenc Máté
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Albatross
Published: 2007-09-14T16:00:00+00:00

The second best part of having the roof on was that we could finally have that Tuscan tradition—the roofing party. Most people take the masons, architect, and builder to a restaurant, but we wanted the event to be as unforgettable for everyone as it would be for us, so we rented the great hall at Banfi Castle.

Today the Castle houses a Michelin-starred restaurant, but back then there was just the vast empty room with Riccardo the Ghost, who died in 1310, as its only tenant. A few times a year, Banfi would host a gala evening for special clients or journalists, with Tommi’s wife, Maria, an excellent cook, preparing the meals. She once had a restaurant in the region of Abruzzo, where she added a gourmet twist to classic country dishes. We were truly flattered when she agreed to cook the private feast for us.

We imagined something simple, but when we arrived, we couldn’t believe our eyes. The great hall was set with linen, silver, and china, and lit only by candlelight. In front of each place setting were six chalice-sized wine glasses, one for each of Banfi’s exceptional wines, plus a champagne flute. Feeling touched and a bit out of place, the fourteen of us stood there and downed the champagne while Maria told the story of poor Riccardo who lives in the tower but roams at night. At that point there was a howl, and Buster, now eight, who had always wanted to be a knight, ran and grabbed the sword from the suit of armor in the corner. He yelled “Andiamo, Riccardo! I’m not afraid.” But, just to be sure, he ducked in behind Candace. We laughed right through our first glass of Banfi chardonnay, which accompanied a vast assortment of salamis and mortadellas. The most intriguing of the pastas was maccheroni alla chitarra made with a tomato sauce in which chunks of carrots, celery, onions, and pork simmer all morning and are then removed, leaving only a blend of intense scents and flavors. Next was agnello brodoristretto, lamb stew topped with a whipped egg and lemon, followed by a powerfully flavored arosticera, bits of sheep grilled on skewers. Lastly Maria brought out crostata di ricotta, a pie that went wonderfully with Banfi’s flowery and exotic Moscadello.

Give a Tuscan food and wine, and he’ll be loud and boisterous even in his grave. We joked and talked about the horrors of the first six months of rebuilding Il Colombaio, when after four or five appetizers, and seven or eight bottles of wine, we noticed Buster was missing. We assumed he was with Maria and her helpers, but when Candace went to check, both of them were gone. From behind us came a triumphant yell. The door to the tower opened and out walked Maria and Buster holding the sword. “We chased Riccardo out,” Buster announced. “He’ll never come again.”

It was well past midnight when we filed out, so full of food and wine that even Piccardi was quiet.

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