Author: Thomas Wilcox

11:18PM  |  Chamonix-Mont-Blanc  |  France

We bid farewell to the sparkling Lake Como this morning, after a last minute coffee and some sugar cookies for the road. Our route takes us south toward Milan, then northwest toward the mountains. We’ve decided to cross the Alps via the Simplon Pass, a crossing in use since the Stone Age, but made famous during the reign of Napoleon.

On this crystal clear day, the pass is simply spectacular. Gently winding roads weave between jagged mountains and across alpine fields dotted with grazing cows and ancient stone cottages. We pull off the main road into the sleepy and immaculate Swiss town of Simplon, where we grab a coffee in a sunny window seat. Just after Simplon, the gentle uphill grade reverses, and we slowly wind down a dramatic valley.

We break for lunch in Brig, then head west across the Vallais canton along the Rhône River. At the end of the valley, we climb rapidly over the Mont de l’Arpile, and cross into France as we descend into the Chamonix Valley. The valley feels like Colorado — unpaved roads, wooden roadside buildings, massive mountains covered in pines below and snow above.

The town of Chamonix isn’t quite empty, but it’s unmistakable off-season here; the Mont Blanc towers unimaginably tall above the town. After a weather report from the hotel’s front desk, we plan our hikes for the rest of the week. Soup a l’Oignon for dinner on a square in the centre ville; up the northern wall of the valley tomorrow.

 

11:35PM  |  Sala Comacina  |  Italy

Began the morning driving through winding streets to the Sacri Monti of Ossuccio, a series of 17th century churches perched along an ancient cobblestone road. We climbed past all fourteen tiny chapels, each depicting a different scene in life-size wooden figures.

At the top was a bar/trattoria full of a huge, talkative Italian family. Considering this endorsement enough, we sat down for a lovely lunchtime meal in a garden in back of the 16th century church named for the Madonna del Soccorso — pasta, vino rosso, and an incredible “torto santuario” made from chocolate, pears, and likely something divine.

Back in Sala Comacina, we found a boat to take us to the small island in the harbor of our town. The only island in the entire lake, Isola Comacina has a remarkable history, with stone foundations dating back to 50 AD, and the ruins of several churches built in the 8th and 12th centuries.

Dinner for our final night in Italy was back on the harborside piazza just steps from our front door. We ate speck-filled ravioli, and gorgonzola-topped steak, as the sun retreated up the mountains across the lake. Communication skills should improve tomorrow as we cross into Switzerland and France, but the view will be hard to beat.

 

11:17PM  |  Sala Comacina  |  Italy

Started the morning in the tiny town grocery — speck, bread, sugar cookies, croissants, and a wedge of fresh, creamy, decadent talleggio, almost unrecognizable next to the States’ Whole Foods variety. A quick stop at a café in Tremezzo, then off on the winding road to Lugano. A roadside goat greets us as we pass into Switzerland.

We climb up endless switchbacks to the quaint town of Bré, park the car, and begin our hike. The tiny mountain town is impeccably clean, with smoke wafting quietly from chimneys on slate roofs. The cobble-stoned trail leads through the outskirts of the village and passes into a forest of towering elm trees. After a few hours of steady climb, we cross the tree line and follow a steep ridge through a windy meadow. At the summit, a stone marker indicates the Swiss-Italian border.

The view from the top is an impressive 360 degrees, with Lago Lugano stretching in two directions, Lago Maggiore further off, and the snowcapped peaks of Switzerland and France in the distance. We break for lunch, pulling tangerines, bread, and salumi from our bag, and marvel at the view. The descent is rapid and tiring, and we happily remove our boots back at the car. A stop in Lugano for some chocolate and coffee, then a drive back to Como.

Dinner on a residential street in Tremezzo, on the backyard terrace surrounded by oregano and honeysuckle. The “restaurant” is run by an older couple, in the downstairs of their house. The meal, pizzas with prosciutto and porcini, mozzarella di bufala, and a pitcher of refreshing vino rosso, is simple and outstanding.

 

10:56PM  |  Sala Comacina  |  Italy

Espresso doppio outside at our now regular bar-café under clear blue skies. Sunday appears to be a day for bicycle enthusiasts, who travel in colorful swarms along the roads, rivaling their motored companions for daring and speed.

After a quick drive up to Tremezzo and a bit of inventive parking, we catch the ferry to Bellagio. The lake stretches leisurely to north and south, and a cool wind plays gently against the brilliant sun. Bellagio teems with visitors from around the world, with particularly strong representation from the Brits and French.

We spend a relaxed few hours in a courtyard restaurant, sampling local ravioli, mozzarella, nebbiolo, tiramisu, and affogato. After lunch we walk to the point where the lake splits east and west, take in the impressive panoramas, and identify the mountain from yesterday’s climb.

After a lakeside coffee we manage to catch the wrong return boat, and wind up touring the Villa Carlotta, an impressive estate with remarkable gardens, perched perfectly on the western shore of the lake. For dinner, la Comacina down the street — mushroom gnocchi, bresaola, and trout. Nightcap in a busy soccer bar: Sambucca and limoncello and gelato; Lugano tomorrow.

 

Carolingian. Only two white wine terroirs in Burgundy hold the status of Grand Cru. Montrachet and its satellites, the more famous, are in the south of Burgundy, wedged between the towns of Chassagne and Puligny. The other is Corton-Charlemagne, perched on a large hill marking the midpoint of the Côte d’Or, named such as a gift from the Holy Roman Emperor.

Upon donating the Hill of Corton to a local abbey in 775, the Emperor Charlemagne ordered that it be planted entirely with red grapes. Legend has it that Charlemagne’s fourth wife was unhappy with the red wine stains on her husband’s beard, and convinced him to replant a portion of the vineyard with white. The wine was renamed to include the emperor’s name, and the world was given an extraordinary new wine.

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Apples and Juniper. Corton-Charlemagne is the highest caliber of white Burgundy. Its richness and depth is equaled only by Montrachet, and its ability to age is nearly unrivaled. Our first source for this exceptionally fine chardonnay is the Domaine Ravaut, a small family domaine located at the base of the great hill of Corton.

Ravaut’s 2012 Corton-Charlemagne Grand Cru is in its infancy, but it’s already giving hints of remarkable things to come. Today the nose shows baked apples, juniper, and honey. The mouth is dense, spiced, rich, and impossibly long. As it ages, look for truffle, mushroom, and woodsy notes.

We like to have other white Burgundy around for everyday drinking. But when it’s time to make your guest feel like an emperor, pull out a bottle of this one.

 

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RAVAUT Corton-Charlemagne Grand Cru 2012
Ansonia Retail: $105
case, half-case: $89/bot

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AVAILABLE IN 3-, 6- AND 12- BOTTLE LOTS

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Email Tom to place an order.

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8:30PM  |  Sala Comacina  |  Italy

Morning espressos in the bar up the street. A quick stop in the market for bread, cheese, and prosciutto, and we’re off in our car up the coast. After a tricky u-turn (for more cheese) and several near misses on the tiny streets, we pass through Tremezzo and begin our climb. Endless switchbacks and ever-narrowing roads lead us high into the hills above the lake, as each turn provides improved views and more dramatic vertigo.

Our hike to the Rifugio Menaggio winds through dense forest, past stone houses, and across sprawling meadows. Gaining steadily in altitude, we pass tiny villages and flower-specked fields; the sun is bright and the breeze is cool. We break for lunch at the Rifugio, an off-the-grid cabin complete with a restaurant serving handmade pasta (of course), and beer and wine for sale. We acquire two Aranciata, and unwrap our lunch in the shade of a tree.

Our afternoon takes us further up the mountain, towards the summit of Monte Grona. Every 100 meters of elevation yields an additional impressive view and more terrifying dropoff. After an hour of climbing using chains, all four limbs, and the extent of our limited bravery, we reach the top. Our reward, a 360 degree panorama, is truly extraordinary. We (thankfully) find an easier route for descent, and beat the rain by minutes. After showers and splash of Barbera, we head to the local bar (equipped with soccer, spritz, and wifi) and then to dinner. Bellagio tomorrow.

 

A turn of fate.  Many of the winemaking families we work with have been in the business for generations; some as far back as the 16th century. It can take years to acquire vines and equipment, and even longer to build a name.

All of which makes the earthy, spiced syrahs Denis Basset produces so impressive. Five years ago, while working in the family flower business, he was nearly killed by touching a high-voltage wire. Upon leaving the hospital, Basset decided to pursue his lifelong dream of making wine. Lucky for us.

Newcomer in the Northern Rhône.  Basset’s family has owned the vines for many years (they used to sell the grapes), and Denis has a knack for channeling his terroir. His Crozes-Hermitage is named Etincelles (“sparks”) as a play on his life-changing event.

The wine is masculine, full-bodied red that could be from nowhere else on earth. It’s unmistakable Northern Rhône syrah, showing savory black fruits, with clove, black pepper, and tobacco in the nose.

Basset hasn’t been at this for long, but he’s off to a magnificent start. We’d pair this with a hearty bean and tomato stew, or a red meat. If your spice cabinet is well stocked, Daniel Boulud’s Braised Lamb in the WSJ earlier this month would make a lovely match.

 

ST. CLAIR CROZES-HERMITAGE 2010
Ansonia Retail: $26
case, half-case price: $22/bot

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Email us to place an order.

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