We Didn't Drink ALL the Vino! Maitaitom's Italy Uncensored
Oct 24th, 2005, 04:19 PM
#162
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Tom,
I'm usually a denizen of the Australian side of Fodor's so have obviously missed some of your travellers tales. What was the prize you received for the most hilltowns seen by a 4 some from SoCal in one day?
Your fab report on Umbria so far has obviated our need to go ( Do you realize how many Americans have visited the Venezia in Las Vegas and now don't need to see the italian versio!?)
We've just returned from 3 weeks or so in Napoli and Sicilia ( TORNO D"ITALIA) so are glad to learn that the north still rocks.
grazie, AndrewDavid
I'm usually a denizen of the Australian side of Fodor's so have obviously missed some of your travellers tales. What was the prize you received for the most hilltowns seen by a 4 some from SoCal in one day?
Your fab report on Umbria so far has obviated our need to go ( Do you realize how many Americans have visited the Venezia in Las Vegas and now don't need to see the italian versio!?)
We've just returned from 3 weeks or so in Napoli and Sicilia ( TORNO D"ITALIA) so are glad to learn that the north still rocks.
grazie, AndrewDavid
Oct 25th, 2005, 08:29 AM
#164
Dear Tom:
I am loving you report. Very entertaining and clever. I had a question about the Pecorino from Pienza. Pecorino Romano is one of my favorite cheeses, my mom is Italian-American, so we kind of grew up with it. Is Pecorino Pienza similar to Pecorino Romano? I would like to track some down to compare.
Thanks,
MY
I am loving you report. Very entertaining and clever. I had a question about the Pecorino from Pienza. Pecorino Romano is one of my favorite cheeses, my mom is Italian-American, so we kind of grew up with it. Is Pecorino Pienza similar to Pecorino Romano? I would like to track some down to compare.
Thanks,
MY
Oct 25th, 2005, 01:53 PM
#165
Original Poster
"Is Pecorino Pienza similar to Pecorino Romano?"
When it come to serious formaggio questions, I am not the big cheese. I was told that Pecorino Toscano was a little less salty than Pecorino Romano, but that was after a bottle of vino, so my memory could be hazy.
On picnics or on the patio, when we were drinking wine and having salami and Pecorino, I bought the morbido (soft) Pecorino, or at least softer than the hard type shaved on salads.
The restaurant menus did not say (or I don't remember) what type Pecorino was used (I assume being near Pienza, they used Toscano, but not sure) in the ravioli dishes. I only know they were stupendous.
Hopefully, you will find a cheese expert who can help here, or maybe even post a new thread with your question.
As for me, to paraphrase Will Rogers, "I never met a Pecorino I didn't like."
When it come to serious formaggio questions, I am not the big cheese. I was told that Pecorino Toscano was a little less salty than Pecorino Romano, but that was after a bottle of vino, so my memory could be hazy.
On picnics or on the patio, when we were drinking wine and having salami and Pecorino, I bought the morbido (soft) Pecorino, or at least softer than the hard type shaved on salads.
The restaurant menus did not say (or I don't remember) what type Pecorino was used (I assume being near Pienza, they used Toscano, but not sure) in the ravioli dishes. I only know they were stupendous.
Hopefully, you will find a cheese expert who can help here, or maybe even post a new thread with your question.
As for me, to paraphrase Will Rogers, "I never met a Pecorino I didn't like."
Oct 25th, 2005, 02:16 PM
#166
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I'm not a cheese expert either and don't know the difference between Pecorino Romano and Pecorino Toscano, but I can tell you a little about the different types of Toscano.
The stuff that is aged longer, 3-4 years or more, is the kind you cut off a chunk of or shave on top of a salad or beef carpaccio. The kind they grill, either by itself or with bacon, is not aged as long. The waiter at one restaurant actually told me they use the fresh Pecorino for grilling, but when I went to buy some, the guy at the store said that was too soft and I should use the stuff aged around 1 year. I got 1 kilogram each of the 4-year and the 1-year cheeses. That 1-year stuff grilled is to die for...Yum!
The stuff that is aged longer, 3-4 years or more, is the kind you cut off a chunk of or shave on top of a salad or beef carpaccio. The kind they grill, either by itself or with bacon, is not aged as long. The waiter at one restaurant actually told me they use the fresh Pecorino for grilling, but when I went to buy some, the guy at the store said that was too soft and I should use the stuff aged around 1 year. I got 1 kilogram each of the 4-year and the 1-year cheeses. That 1-year stuff grilled is to die for...Yum!
Oct 25th, 2005, 03:08 PM
#167
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Thank you maitaotom!!!!!!!
Today I booked a trip to Umbria , for next June. Since we were just in Italy this August-September, we really had no intention of returning so soon, but after this report I couldn't help myself!
All I have planned thus far is five nights in Montefalco at Villa Zuccari, a wonderful deal I got through Luxury Link. Your itinerary will prove very helpful in our daily jaunts to surrounding towns. The rest of the trip is still very much in the planning stage. Thank you for the inspirtion!
Today I booked a trip to Umbria , for next June. Since we were just in Italy this August-September, we really had no intention of returning so soon, but after this report I couldn't help myself!
All I have planned thus far is five nights in Montefalco at Villa Zuccari, a wonderful deal I got through Luxury Link. Your itinerary will prove very helpful in our daily jaunts to surrounding towns. The rest of the trip is still very much in the planning stage. Thank you for the inspirtion!
Oct 25th, 2005, 03:13 PM
#168
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Love Pecorino, too. Thinking about its salty taste reminds me of eating it when we arrived at our agriturismo in Umbria and spread out a nice little picnic dinner. Someone had brought Pecorino from Rome. As we were eating (and drinking the yummy local wine), we were commenting on how tasteless the salt-free Umbrian bread was and one of our group was getting irritated:
"It's the saltiest bread I've ever eaten!"
Needless to say, it was the addition of the Pecorino that she was tasting!
"It's the saltiest bread I've ever eaten!"
Needless to say, it was the addition of the Pecorino that she was tasting!
Oct 25th, 2005, 06:14 PM
#169
Thanks everyone so far. I will have to find out about Pecorino Toscano. I have tried Pecorino Locatelli: less salty, used more as an eating cheese. But I love Romano so much, I eat it by the chunk. BYW: When buying Pecorino in the US always look for IMPORTED FROM ITALY. Domestic will stick to your fork. Not the same.
MY
MY
Oct 25th, 2005, 06:28 PM
#170
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MaitaiTom, thanks for all the entertainment and information. It is great.
Pecorino Toscano is different from al others, as it is peculiar to the air, grass, etc. in its location. That is why Pecorino from Pienza is so famous.
The pecorino gets saltier as it ages. Pecorino Fresca can be almost buttery in flavor, and a well-aged one will be sharper, harder and saltier.
I think no aged hard cheese for grating can beat Locatelli Romano. I had a cheese monger push another romano on me once, saying they were all the same. It only happened once.
Pecorino Toscano is different from al others, as it is peculiar to the air, grass, etc. in its location. That is why Pecorino from Pienza is so famous.
The pecorino gets saltier as it ages. Pecorino Fresca can be almost buttery in flavor, and a well-aged one will be sharper, harder and saltier.
I think no aged hard cheese for grating can beat Locatelli Romano. I had a cheese monger push another romano on me once, saying they were all the same. It only happened once.
Oct 26th, 2005, 01:56 PM
#172
Original Poster
<b> DAY ELEVEN - AN AMAZING FIND IN THE HILLS OF CHIANTI, THE STAIRS THAT BROKE OUR FEET AND A FODORITE SIGHTING AT CANE & GATTO </b>
Sleeping with the windows offers one the opportunity to savor the smells of the Tuscan countryside, unless one is greeted in the morning with wafts of cigarette smoke. The New Yorkers were up early, and to their credit they were quiet. On the downside, they were smoking like a chimney under our window. Yes, lung cancer was in the air.
The breakfast at the Piccolo Oliveta was fine (good sweet roll and cappuccino), and we decided to explore the land of Chianti on this very sunny Sunday. Everyone had slept ok, but as I mentioned, the beds weren’t the greatest. We headed out of town and got on the S222 (or Karen Valentine Highway as we called it in honor of the 1960s’ television program Room 222. Yes, our minds are full of useless trivia).
As mentioned, we were a little underwhelmed with our hotel, but it was not terrible, so we had planned on staying…until we saw a fateful sight. There, about ten miles from Siena, just to the right of the Karen Valentine Highway nestled in amongst vineyards, stood an oasis of swimming pools (yes, plural). I believe it was Mary who said, “What is this place?”
I made one of my many illegal and dangerous U-turns to accommodate that curiosity. We pulled on to a driveway that took us to the Agritourist il Molino. We got out of the car and walked to the adjacent swimming pools to the left of this lodging and were astounded by what we saw. A swimming complex that would have been a Mark Spitz dream and cost somebody tons of euros.
There was a giant lap pool, wading areas, a regular swimming pool, a place you could just walk out into the water and stand, and bridges that connected certain areas, all set out in the midst of this beautiful vineyard setting. Pretty spectacular. There was a place to get snacks and cocktails and a sitting area where you could have late afternoon drinks or cappuccinos in the morning. Oh yeah, it had a restaurant on the premises, too.
Four minds, one thought. What did this place cost a night? A fortune, we were sure. We went up the stairs and chatted with a woman who knew very limited English and asked her how much a night was it to stay here. She wrote down the nightly cost on a piece of paper and flipped it around for us to see.
I hadn’t looked this surprised since Tracy said she would marry me. “Are you sure?” I exclaimed. Kim then game me a look that usually was reserved for Tracy when she thought I was an idiot. He laughed and said, “Would you feel better if she told you it was more? Why don’t you talk up the price?” I knew he was having a good time ridiculing me, so I let him continue.
The cost per night, per room, was incredibly 60 Euros, and since it was September, guests could use the pool (which was actually a new, local swimming complex) for free. Well, let me backtrack, our room (with balcony) was to be 60 Euros; Kim and Mary’s room - sans balcony - was 55 Euros). Knowing that everyone was disappointed with the Piccolo Oliveta, we booked two rooms for Monday and Tuesday nights, got back in the car and headed back for Siena to tell the hotel we were going to cut our visit short.
Kim was always better at breaking up with girlfriends when we were in college, so he was chosen to tell the woman at the front desk we would be departing early. Kim told the truth (unlike our college days) that we wanted to spend a couple of nights in the country instead of the city, and they were very nice about it. We certainly expected to pay a penalty for backing out two days early, and were charged for a third night, which was fair. With the new charge at our agritourism, it would be a wash for us. So instead of Chianti on this Sunday, we decided to see the rest of Siena.
As we walked toward Siena, I had a terrible thought. “Oh no, I have reservations on Monday night at Il Cane & Gatto for Tracy and me that I booked last month.” Kim and Mary had declined because it is a set prix fixe menu, and since he is allergic to tomatoes, he couldn’t take the chance on there being five courses of tomato dishes. Fortunately I called later in the afternoon, and they could change the reservation to Sunday night, so Tracy and I could still go that night.
We were all hungry (what else is new), grabbed a bite, and then set off to The Crypt under the Duomo. It was all part of the ticket we had bought the day before, and once again a good audio guide tour provided a wealth of information.
A good crypt experience always puts Tracy in a shopping mood, and this proved no difference. Actually, the plate we bought near the Duomo just arrived at my office a couple of days ago, and it was a nice purchase.
I started thinking about the song “I Ain’t Got NoBody” and so we all walked over to the San Domenico monastery so we could see the place where they keep St. Catherine’s head. After our visit, while I was still thinking it’s a little creepy to keep someone’s long dead, yet venerated, head for people to look at, my traveling companions were thinking about feet…their own feet, not St. Catherine’s.
A few times while walking on the Piazza del Campo I had stopped by the Palazzo Pubblico to see how long the wait was to walk up the 503 steps to the top. Fortunately, for the others, the line was always long. I decided I wanted one more opportunity, and Kim and Mary felt their feet would take a vacation from this journey.
Always the trouper, Tracy said she would walk over there with me, although I knew she was hoping for just one more long line. By a stroke of luck (mine), there was incredibly no one in line, so up we went. This is definitely a good trudge up to the top, not for those with vertigo, weak hearts or smart brains. But the views of the piazza, rooftops and countryside made it quite worthwhile. Fortunately for me, there were plenty of people at the top, so Tracy could not fulfill her dream of pushing me over the edge. When we got back to the bottom, there once again was a long line, and Tracy said, “Where were those damn people an hour ago?” I love it when she talks dirty.
Back at the hotel, we relaxed with Kim and Mary and a bottle of vino before our feast yet to come that evening at Cane & Gatto, where we had 8 pm reservations.
We arrived at the restaurant a little before 8 pm, and since no one else was hanging outside, we walked around a bit, so not to be the first ones there. We were the first ones anyway, except for a couple of women who were told this was a good restaurant by their hotel. They were not told, however, that this would be an eating orgy, and not being that hungry they left after talking with the owner.
The restaurant is intimate (we counted 11 tables), and the owner greets you with a free glass of Prosecco. The server for the restaurant is the owner’s daughter, and she was delightful (and cute…not that I noticed). Tracy was given a green and burgundy orchid (to wear, not to eat), and the feast was about to begin.
First course was an antipasti misto. The blue cheese quiche with mascarpone was incredible, and the pecorino with honey, mozzarella with diced tomato and basil, meloné y salami and crostini with paté of chicken liver was no chopped liver either (well, I guess the paté was).
Next up was a cream of chick pea soup drizzled with olio, croutons and rosemary. Why is soup on vacation always so good? We jotted down a note to make more soup at home.
By now, there were six couples in the restaurant, and that is the way it would stay for the remainder of the evening. Our waitress told us the wines, and we chose one. Another couple asked if they could see a wine list. In one of my favorite lines from the trip, our server answered (very politely), “I am the wine list.” The timing was impeccable.
We then went on to our next course, wide stripes of pasta with a wild boar sauce. I think it was at this point in the meal I had to loosen a belt loop. Fortunately, they gave you a reasonable amount of time in between courses so you don’t explode at your table.
No stopping the gravy train now, and it was a course of grilled beef with truffles and porcini mushrooms, along with the only dish I could have done without, quail with green peppercorns in an orange sauce (tiny little bones kind of got in the way of any enjoyment of that dish). Tracy loved the grilled eggplant/zucchini/artichoke dish with her favorite (arugula), while I decided to save myself for dessert. I’m glad I did.
The strawberries in a semi-frozen meringue were out of this world and, although I am not a tiramisu guy, this was the best ever, served with little chocolate shavings. The sliced fruit (pineapple, kiwi, orange and gooseberries) was incredibly fresh. We washed it all down with a Moscadello de Montalcino.
The whole bill, including two bottles of wine came to about 190 Euros. At the end of the meal, as people were getting up, we struck up a conversation with a couple (he was from Boston, and I was in need of another baseball fix). As we chatted, I casually asked how they knew about this restaurant. She said, “Oh, I am on a travel board.”
This had all the making of a Fodor’s moment, so I asked, “Oh really, what board?”
She replied, “Fodors.”
“Me, too,” I said.
Then, in an Italian-thread minute, she blurted out, “Bob The Navigator rocks!”
Her moniker was Easygoer, and she had never heard of maitaitom, which I told her could be a blessing. Tracy and I waddled back to the hotel at about 11:30 pm and said we were going to stop eating so much after having such a wonderful meal.
Little did we know, that within 14 hours, we would have meal that would even surpass this one for food AND experience. God bless Italy!
<b> NEXT: A LUNCH FOR THE AGES, THE GREAT DANES MEET TUSCAN TOM’S TOURS AND CATCHING A FEW RAYS </b>
Sleeping with the windows offers one the opportunity to savor the smells of the Tuscan countryside, unless one is greeted in the morning with wafts of cigarette smoke. The New Yorkers were up early, and to their credit they were quiet. On the downside, they were smoking like a chimney under our window. Yes, lung cancer was in the air.
The breakfast at the Piccolo Oliveta was fine (good sweet roll and cappuccino), and we decided to explore the land of Chianti on this very sunny Sunday. Everyone had slept ok, but as I mentioned, the beds weren’t the greatest. We headed out of town and got on the S222 (or Karen Valentine Highway as we called it in honor of the 1960s’ television program Room 222. Yes, our minds are full of useless trivia).
As mentioned, we were a little underwhelmed with our hotel, but it was not terrible, so we had planned on staying…until we saw a fateful sight. There, about ten miles from Siena, just to the right of the Karen Valentine Highway nestled in amongst vineyards, stood an oasis of swimming pools (yes, plural). I believe it was Mary who said, “What is this place?”
I made one of my many illegal and dangerous U-turns to accommodate that curiosity. We pulled on to a driveway that took us to the Agritourist il Molino. We got out of the car and walked to the adjacent swimming pools to the left of this lodging and were astounded by what we saw. A swimming complex that would have been a Mark Spitz dream and cost somebody tons of euros.
There was a giant lap pool, wading areas, a regular swimming pool, a place you could just walk out into the water and stand, and bridges that connected certain areas, all set out in the midst of this beautiful vineyard setting. Pretty spectacular. There was a place to get snacks and cocktails and a sitting area where you could have late afternoon drinks or cappuccinos in the morning. Oh yeah, it had a restaurant on the premises, too.
Four minds, one thought. What did this place cost a night? A fortune, we were sure. We went up the stairs and chatted with a woman who knew very limited English and asked her how much a night was it to stay here. She wrote down the nightly cost on a piece of paper and flipped it around for us to see.
I hadn’t looked this surprised since Tracy said she would marry me. “Are you sure?” I exclaimed. Kim then game me a look that usually was reserved for Tracy when she thought I was an idiot. He laughed and said, “Would you feel better if she told you it was more? Why don’t you talk up the price?” I knew he was having a good time ridiculing me, so I let him continue.
The cost per night, per room, was incredibly 60 Euros, and since it was September, guests could use the pool (which was actually a new, local swimming complex) for free. Well, let me backtrack, our room (with balcony) was to be 60 Euros; Kim and Mary’s room - sans balcony - was 55 Euros). Knowing that everyone was disappointed with the Piccolo Oliveta, we booked two rooms for Monday and Tuesday nights, got back in the car and headed back for Siena to tell the hotel we were going to cut our visit short.
Kim was always better at breaking up with girlfriends when we were in college, so he was chosen to tell the woman at the front desk we would be departing early. Kim told the truth (unlike our college days) that we wanted to spend a couple of nights in the country instead of the city, and they were very nice about it. We certainly expected to pay a penalty for backing out two days early, and were charged for a third night, which was fair. With the new charge at our agritourism, it would be a wash for us. So instead of Chianti on this Sunday, we decided to see the rest of Siena.
As we walked toward Siena, I had a terrible thought. “Oh no, I have reservations on Monday night at Il Cane & Gatto for Tracy and me that I booked last month.” Kim and Mary had declined because it is a set prix fixe menu, and since he is allergic to tomatoes, he couldn’t take the chance on there being five courses of tomato dishes. Fortunately I called later in the afternoon, and they could change the reservation to Sunday night, so Tracy and I could still go that night.
We were all hungry (what else is new), grabbed a bite, and then set off to The Crypt under the Duomo. It was all part of the ticket we had bought the day before, and once again a good audio guide tour provided a wealth of information.
A good crypt experience always puts Tracy in a shopping mood, and this proved no difference. Actually, the plate we bought near the Duomo just arrived at my office a couple of days ago, and it was a nice purchase.
I started thinking about the song “I Ain’t Got NoBody” and so we all walked over to the San Domenico monastery so we could see the place where they keep St. Catherine’s head. After our visit, while I was still thinking it’s a little creepy to keep someone’s long dead, yet venerated, head for people to look at, my traveling companions were thinking about feet…their own feet, not St. Catherine’s.
A few times while walking on the Piazza del Campo I had stopped by the Palazzo Pubblico to see how long the wait was to walk up the 503 steps to the top. Fortunately, for the others, the line was always long. I decided I wanted one more opportunity, and Kim and Mary felt their feet would take a vacation from this journey.
Always the trouper, Tracy said she would walk over there with me, although I knew she was hoping for just one more long line. By a stroke of luck (mine), there was incredibly no one in line, so up we went. This is definitely a good trudge up to the top, not for those with vertigo, weak hearts or smart brains. But the views of the piazza, rooftops and countryside made it quite worthwhile. Fortunately for me, there were plenty of people at the top, so Tracy could not fulfill her dream of pushing me over the edge. When we got back to the bottom, there once again was a long line, and Tracy said, “Where were those damn people an hour ago?” I love it when she talks dirty.
Back at the hotel, we relaxed with Kim and Mary and a bottle of vino before our feast yet to come that evening at Cane & Gatto, where we had 8 pm reservations.
We arrived at the restaurant a little before 8 pm, and since no one else was hanging outside, we walked around a bit, so not to be the first ones there. We were the first ones anyway, except for a couple of women who were told this was a good restaurant by their hotel. They were not told, however, that this would be an eating orgy, and not being that hungry they left after talking with the owner.
The restaurant is intimate (we counted 11 tables), and the owner greets you with a free glass of Prosecco. The server for the restaurant is the owner’s daughter, and she was delightful (and cute…not that I noticed). Tracy was given a green and burgundy orchid (to wear, not to eat), and the feast was about to begin.
First course was an antipasti misto. The blue cheese quiche with mascarpone was incredible, and the pecorino with honey, mozzarella with diced tomato and basil, meloné y salami and crostini with paté of chicken liver was no chopped liver either (well, I guess the paté was).
Next up was a cream of chick pea soup drizzled with olio, croutons and rosemary. Why is soup on vacation always so good? We jotted down a note to make more soup at home.
By now, there were six couples in the restaurant, and that is the way it would stay for the remainder of the evening. Our waitress told us the wines, and we chose one. Another couple asked if they could see a wine list. In one of my favorite lines from the trip, our server answered (very politely), “I am the wine list.” The timing was impeccable.
We then went on to our next course, wide stripes of pasta with a wild boar sauce. I think it was at this point in the meal I had to loosen a belt loop. Fortunately, they gave you a reasonable amount of time in between courses so you don’t explode at your table.
No stopping the gravy train now, and it was a course of grilled beef with truffles and porcini mushrooms, along with the only dish I could have done without, quail with green peppercorns in an orange sauce (tiny little bones kind of got in the way of any enjoyment of that dish). Tracy loved the grilled eggplant/zucchini/artichoke dish with her favorite (arugula), while I decided to save myself for dessert. I’m glad I did.
The strawberries in a semi-frozen meringue were out of this world and, although I am not a tiramisu guy, this was the best ever, served with little chocolate shavings. The sliced fruit (pineapple, kiwi, orange and gooseberries) was incredibly fresh. We washed it all down with a Moscadello de Montalcino.
The whole bill, including two bottles of wine came to about 190 Euros. At the end of the meal, as people were getting up, we struck up a conversation with a couple (he was from Boston, and I was in need of another baseball fix). As we chatted, I casually asked how they knew about this restaurant. She said, “Oh, I am on a travel board.”
This had all the making of a Fodor’s moment, so I asked, “Oh really, what board?”
She replied, “Fodors.”
“Me, too,” I said.
Then, in an Italian-thread minute, she blurted out, “Bob The Navigator rocks!”
Her moniker was Easygoer, and she had never heard of maitaitom, which I told her could be a blessing. Tracy and I waddled back to the hotel at about 11:30 pm and said we were going to stop eating so much after having such a wonderful meal.
Little did we know, that within 14 hours, we would have meal that would even surpass this one for food AND experience. God bless Italy!
<b> NEXT: A LUNCH FOR THE AGES, THE GREAT DANES MEET TUSCAN TOM’S TOURS AND CATCHING A FEW RAYS </b>
Oct 26th, 2005, 02:47 PM
#173
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Wow, now I'm hungry after those awesome food descriptions 
Can't wait to find out if the rooms at the Agriturismo live up to the swimming pools - sounds like a place we would love.
And in the furture remind Tracy she may only push you off the side AFTER you have completed your trip report! kidding...
Can't wait to find out if the rooms at the Agriturismo live up to the swimming pools - sounds like a place we would love.
And in the furture remind Tracy she may only push you off the side AFTER you have completed your trip report! kidding...
Oct 26th, 2005, 03:14 PM
#174
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Hello maitaitom, I just sit here and read your trip report and dream of being back in Italy, sob! Your report is a joy to read, one feels like they are travelling right along with you four and your humor is so delightful!
Now about the next hotel...when you have time of course!! No rush, but please don't let work get in the way, LOL.
Now about the next hotel...when you have time of course!! No rush, but please don't let work get in the way, LOL.
Oct 26th, 2005, 03:49 PM
#177
Original Poster
"Do you know if the Agriturismo has a website?"
Amazingly it does not. I will have some pictures up on a blog if I ever finish this trip report. I have pictures of the pool (pools), the hotel, a sunset from our balcony and the surrounding vineyards. Plus Kim and Mary took some, too, that I'll get on CD in a few days.
I'll give more details in next report, but the rooms were small, but clean. Bathrooms were fine with tiny showers. For 60 euros it was an incredible bargain.
Not many Americans (actually we might have been only ones), but a lot of Brits, plus some Germans and people from Holland.
The restaurant was good, although it missed on a couple of dishes. There was an incredible pork dish.
Amazingly it does not. I will have some pictures up on a blog if I ever finish this trip report. I have pictures of the pool (pools), the hotel, a sunset from our balcony and the surrounding vineyards. Plus Kim and Mary took some, too, that I'll get on CD in a few days.
I'll give more details in next report, but the rooms were small, but clean. Bathrooms were fine with tiny showers. For 60 euros it was an incredible bargain.
Not many Americans (actually we might have been only ones), but a lot of Brits, plus some Germans and people from Holland.
The restaurant was good, although it missed on a couple of dishes. There was an incredible pork dish.
Oct 26th, 2005, 08:08 PM
#179
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Tom, You make me even more sorry that I missed my dinner at Cane e Gatto last month! I don't know if the hotel or the restaurant screwed up, but they didn't have my reservation. I was very disappointed. Have to go back!
Oct 27th, 2005, 08:26 AM
#180
Original Poster
"You make me even more sorry that I missed my dinner at Cane e Gatto last month!"
Any excuse to go back to Italy is a good excuse...and that wasn't even our favorite restaurant on the trip, although we liked it a lot. More later. Thanks.
Any excuse to go back to Italy is a good excuse...and that wasn't even our favorite restaurant on the trip, although we liked it a lot. More later. Thanks.
