Italy - Ancient land of Wine, Cars and Governments

The diversity of Italy’s wines is only (nearly) matched by the different governments this country has had since the second world war – about one per year! This is strange and inconsistent; however it is something that, for a long time, personified Italy for me. Passion, ambition, know-how and yet also a perverse, naive way of shooting themselves in the foot. I think of Alfa Romeo cars of the 70s – elegant lines by Pininfarina, engineering by the country that produces Ferrari and Maserati and reliability by the Flintstones.

My first visit to Turin was in 1992 and my impression was that of a run-down, dusty place with an enormous, neglected architectural heritage.

Fast-forward by 15 years and Turin appears to have grown up. The large capital investment into infrastructure for the 2006 winter Olympics is evident. The Olympic spirit uplifted this city and its people. Much like Auckland benefited so significantly from the two America’s Cup campaigns at home, Turin has lifted itself out of the lazy doldrums and I can sense a great sense of life and energy here.

Dani and her brother Georgio meet me at the airport, both of whom I had met many years previously at Georg’s wedding. Dani and hubby Diego invite me and their friend Sandra to Torino’s latest culinary addition – Eataly. While I cringe a little at this branding, the Italians have no such concerns. The old Fiat factory in the Lingotto part of town has been totally refurbished to create a food and beverage hall of extensive proportions. This is not a market with growers and stalls - more like a food supermarket with different sections for fish, meat and separate rooms for legs of ham and cheeses.

On the lower level are separate wine and beer cellars - with the opportunity to taste the wares prior to purchase. Vegetarian, meat and fish counters also serve food. We are lucky to secure four seats on a Saturday at the jam-packed meat counter which offers tapas bar-like seating on stools. Prices are very reasonable for drinks (€1.50 for a litre bottle of water and €10 for a bottle of Nebius 2005 (from the nebbiolo grape). My Gran Tagliata, ample rare slices of succulent beef with fresh salad and loads of fresh bread, set me back €12 (around $22).

Nebbiolo wines are, especially in their Barolo d’Alba form and next to Chianti Classico, my favourite Italian wine. On their own, they can be very tannic – a bit like a troop of soldiers skidding to a halt on my palate. However, feed them some complex and hearty food and the corps starts dancing gently in their ballet shoes. The fruit comes to the fore and the tannins integrate with the food. They tend to have a lighter colour, smell and taste of sweet/sour cherries, a relatively high alcohol of around 14% and good balancing acidity with a very long palate. Not wines for the meek.

The visit would not have been complete without the obligatory espresso or macchiato. Behind the coffee counter another surprise awaits: two large stainless steel vats filled with La Crema Granduia being stirred by mechanical arms. The server filled small tubs and handed these out with miniature sorbet spoons. Like runny Nutella and nowhere near as cloying. Get me out of this place. Not half a day has passed and the belt has already been widened by a notch. I am ready for the siesta in preparation for the evening meal at Pautasso (www.pautasso-ristoranti.com), some more Barolo and the subsequent stroll around the ancient parts of Torino.