travelswithalice

August 04, 2006

Spoleto

“It must have been a zanzara,” the manager at the Hotel Gattapone said doubtfully. He made it sound like vintage wine. “We only have them in July, during the humid days.” I guess the mosquito that bit me in Montepulciano and left three big angry red spots on my face was working overtime off season.

This delightful hotel is perched right at the edge of a cliff. Our room's balcony hangs over trees and shrubs skittering down a wooded gorge within touching distance of an ancient Roman aqueduct.

At an outdoor bar in the square the locals congregated around an improvised dance floor. An early baby boomer band played ballroom music while a suave elderly gentleman single handedly took on ladies of varying ages and dancing prowess. It was all very nice and festive.

But the children were all over the dance floor too, mucking about and getting in each other's way. Before anyone knew what was happening, the veteran dance instructor had toppled over and crashed to the floor, his dancing partner inelegantly astride him. Everyone sucked in their breath and all was deathly quiet for a second or two before the dancers nimbly resurrected and the party went on.

I had a Bellini.

At dinner later that evening, Signora Eros, proprietor and chef’s wife at Il Tiempo di Gusto for some reason reminded me of Anaïs Nin. She explained the menu to us in English.

Although this makes life simpler for linguistically challenged diners like us, it takes the magical veil of mystery away. We’re disappointed that we have chosen another tourist destination. But although most of the diners were tourists- English, American, German- the food did not disappoint.

The restaurant is an ancient stone house, very narrow and climbing steeply from the underground kitchen (partly visible through glass holes on the stonefloor) through two levels of dining spaces, meandering out into a tiny garden for more dining space (obviously in much demand as indicated by the queue that had started to form before we got to our main course,) and finally up some more steps into private quarters.

We had a great view from where we sat at the top of a flight of stairs wedged snugly between a stonewall and a lovely rustic sideboard with calligraphy labels on the drawers.

Dinner was superb. We had been waiting all this time to be overwhelmed by the celebrated gastronomic traditions of Emiglia Romagna and Umbria, but have not been impressed until tonight. (There was of course a very elegant dinner in Gubbio but the food there didn’t surprise.)

The plaintive voice of Billie Holiday singing softly in the background had assured me that we were in the presence of another serious chef at work. (L’Opera in Perugia also played the same CD and that dinner was certainly one of the better ones on this holiday.)

I had a delicious stuffed guinea hen and Stuart repeated his experimentation with cinghiale. We had a bottle of Sagrantino and the waiter was so awed by it, his hand trembled as he poured.

Labels: Anaïs Nin, Bellini, cinghiale, food, italy, restaurants, Roman aqueduct, wine