Tag: Amaro

Venice revisited: shopping, lunch and two dinners

That’s not two dinners on one night. Obviously.

Our partner in crime on this trip was Alison, chef of her own restaurant in Norfolk for many years.

It was her first time in Italy and, as a fellow food obsessive, I was excited to show her the markets. Her husband declined to join us, knowing that food would be the dominant subject of conversation.

He was right. Here we are, photographing Puntarelle (it’s a chicory, dressed with anchovies and garlic and…. alright, we’ll stop now).

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

We went to Rialto and discussed the price of fish.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

We decided against the Goby,

 

 

 

 

 

 

but it was worth it for people watching,

 

 

 

 

 

 

Then lunch at Bancogiro, site of the world’s first public merchant bank. Their terrace overlooks the Grand Canal, a few steps from Rialto Bridge.

There’s a menu, but it’s better to go into the bar and choose your cicheti from the glass cabinet, order a glass of wine, (or it’s always Spritz o’clock) and they’ll bring it all to your table.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Dinner at Osteria alle Testiere, where ‘it’s always SHOWTIME!’

Alle Testiere is an absolute legend. It’s one of those restaurants where the guests are eager to impress their hosts.

It’s essential to make your reservation well ahead. We like to book for the second service, and we’re usually the last to leave.

It’s tiny, founded 33 years ago by Luca di Vita and Bruno Gavagnin, who were formerly head waiter and chef respectively at Corte Sconta, renowned for its seafood.

It’s a long menu. Fish is the point here, they’re closed on Sunday and Monday, because the Rialto market isn’t open.

Luca took our order:

‘Three turbot? I hope we have enough’.

After dinner, Ali engaged Luca in conversation.

‘Bruno goes to Rialto every day, he’s like a child in a sweet shop, he wants to buy everything’.

Ali confided that in her restaurant she listed three choices for each course on her menu.

‘That’s my dream’ said Luca, ‘and the same for the wine list – just three that will go with anything you order’.

 

 

 

 

 

 

With that in mind, we ordered three desserts: pannacotta, zabaglione and a glorious dark chocolate mousse, swimming in a lagoon of Amaro.

Alle Testiere is open for lunch, and two sittings in the evening (book it as soon as you’ve booked your flight).

Trattoria del Local

Ali flew home the next day, and we decided to try the recent offshoot of Ristorante Local, which opened ten years ago and now has a Michelin star.

The young owners, Benedetta and Luca Fullin, were looking for somewhere nearby to store wine for Local, but when the opportunity came up to buy the premises from Olive Nera, the restaurant next door, they couldn’t resist…..

It’s pretty inside and, like Testiere, it’s small.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The wine list offers wines by the 125cl glass or 250cl carafe; the full list is available by scanning a code to your phone (a skill beyond my pay grade).

We had a vermouth, ‘classic from Turin’, and a glass of sparkling Franciacorta as aperitifs, then shared a carafe of ‘Giulietta’, a Garganega/Traminer blend; golden nectar, redolent of greengage, melon and honey.

Starters were a delicate snapper mousse, and an exemplary vitello tonnato.

 

 

 

 

 

Mains were lagoon fish with a rich stew of tomato, onion and capers.

I asked for a glass of light red wine, and was recommended a Carmenere by Inama, a favourite producer of fine Soave.

We shared a selection of hard cheeses, then a ‘Bonet’, a dark chocolate crème caramel. I couldn’t resist the waitress’s recommendation of a 10 year old dry Marsala; ‘With the Bonet it’s the end of the world’.

To finish, I was intrigued by Grappa di Tabacco.

Benedetta suggested a smell, ‘for you to understand’, and offered me a sniff of the cork and the open bottle.

Reader, I inhaled it, and accepted a glass. It was the colour of polished brass, quite fiery and the taste had something in common with a smoky Islay whisky.

It may have been my imagination, but it reminded me of the mild hallucinogenic effect of your first cigarette.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Benedetta smiled; ‘as an ex-smoker I don’t want to like it. But I do’.

Opened early in 2025, it’s still being checked out by locals, a lot of whom were clearly in the restaurant business. I think we were probably the only non-Italians there.

As we left, the chef was enjoying a fag break (the real thing) with his mates.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Full disclosure:

We spent more on dinner for two here than we had for three the night before at Testiere, but we did drink very well.

We were over excited, and turned right out of the restaurant – we should have gone left.

It’s easy to take a wrong turn in Venice.

http://www.osterialletestiere.it/

Starters & pasta 26 – 28 euros. Mains 32 euros. Desserts 12 euros. Extensive wine list from 24 euros a bottle.

http://www.trattoriadellocal.com/

Starters & pasta 16 – 25 euros. Mains 24 – 28 euros. Wine from 27 euros a bottle. Grappa di Tabacco – did I really?

Amaro. For the avoidance of doubt.

‘It’s bitter, no?

This is the true Amaro’, explained Luca di Vita, the charming maitre d’ of Osteria alle Testiere in Venice.
It’s one of my favourite restaurants.

Amaro in Italian means bitter. It’s also a drink. Most of the commercial brands are a bit too sweet, and Luca has created his own ‘Nostrano’, (Ours).

It’s a drink to savour after a meal, a bit like port, but yes, bitter…..
It’s brownish red in colour, with a hint of green.

There’s sweetness, yes, but with the bitterness of rhubarb, artichoke (try Cynar, if you’re feeling adventurous) and who knows what other alchemy.

It’s stimulating, a punctuation that marks the end of a meal, and it supposedly helps the digestion.

Bitter flavours are prized by Italians in ways that we Brits might find challenging: radicchio, rocket, Campari, and the complexities of aged balsamic vinegar or Gorgonzola Piccante.

I dare you.

Turin: in Search of Stanley Tucci

My travelling companions were going to Turin for the ATP year-end tennis tournament.

I was there for the food. My last visit was in 2015, and I had some unfinished business.

Hollywood star Stanley Tucci, ‘Italian on both sides’, was a source of research in the Piedmont episode of his TV series ‘Searching for Italy’, available on Amazon Prime.

First stop, coffee

We followed in his footsteps for coffee at Al Bicerin, an institution on Piazza della Consolata since 1763. They run a queuing system, and once you sit down there’s a short wait while your drinks are made, and the complimentary biscotti are plated.

Al Bicerin

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Pronounced Beech-erin, the eponymous drink consists of layers of espresso and dark hot chocolate, sipped through cold cream, a perfect start on a chilly morning.  ‘We suggest not to stir it’.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

So far, so good. Where to for lunch, Stanley?

Piola da Celso, an unassuming place on a quiet residential backstreet. Piola translates roughly as a tavern serving home cooked food.

Chef Elisabetta prepares everything herself each day, and Stanley was assured she makes the best Bagna Caôda in town. Traditionally eaten during the grape harvest and pressing, it’s a warm dipping sauce of garlic and anchovies, served with vegetables.

‘It has incredible flavour, and will give you incredible breath – the garlic kills everyone in front of you’.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I had to try it.

I walked there to work up an appetite, which was just as well. I was shown to a table next to a group of five men of a certain age, who were already deeply engrossed in pasta, tripe, roast rabbit, and carafes of red wine.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Elisabetta’s son Carlo was called over to speak to me in English. I did my best, and he quickly reassured me ‘your Italian is perfect’. (He’s as charming as he appeared to be on TV).

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

‘My name is Carlo, like your king’.

He recommended the mixed antipasto to start, with the last portion of Bagna Caôda.

I ordered un quartino dell’ Arneis, a 25cl carafe of the local white wine.

Bagna Cauda

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The antipasto was a lesson in Piemontese dialect: vitel tonné, salame cotto, insalata russa, tomino with two sauces*.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

*sliced veal with tuna & caper mayonnaise, baked salami, Russian salad, and tangy, creamy cheeses with red & green sauces – all specialities of the region; the salame you will only find there.

Tomino cheeses

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Elisabetta came over, unbidden, to give me a taste of a mysterious green purée; I asked what it was, and she showed me a raw floret: ‘e broccolo, con un po di patate’…..

I ordered the agnolotti con salsa arrosto, ‘then you can decide what to do….’

An enormous pan of pasta arrived, dressed with parmesan and the rich juices of roast meat. ‘It’s ravioli, but here in Piemonte we call it agnolotti’.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I reluctantly declined the offers of meat and dessert, and opted for an espresso. Lunch was 28 euros.

Carlo asked my name, took an interest in where I was from, what was my work, and offered to call me a taxi.

 

Two days later I returned, this time with reinforcements.

I had phoned ahead, and Elisabetta recognised me, greeting me with a little curtsey.

Two of us shared the antipasti, then Tajarin, similar to spaghetti but fresh pasta, with tomato, followed by a slice of Bonet, a dense dark chocolate mousse with crumbled amaretti and mandarin jam.

Bonet with Amaro

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Carlo recommended a glass of Amaro San Carlo (‘like me’) as a digestif, a bittersweet drink with flavours of alpine herbs.

Lunch for two came to £47.

He recommended booking for dinner a week in advance. There’s no website, just a Facebook page, so phone and practise your Italian; ask for Carlo, or ask your hotel to call.

 

Back at home, I watched ‘Searching for Italy’ again.

With the help of subtitles, it was Elisabetta who stole the show:

‘This will be the best Bagna Caôda you will have in your life.

It will resurrect a dead person’.

Drinking with Chip ‘n’ Dale

It’s your first evening in Venice, and you’ve booked dinner at Al Zucca, ten minutes walk from your hotel. You’ve been there before, you fancy a drink first, but you can’t remember anywhere on the way to the restaurant. There’s a street in the other direction where you know there’s a simple pizzeria on the corner, with a well stocked bar, so you set off.

As you approach, there’s the sound of lively conversation that grows louder as you get closer, and it’s not coming from the pizza place.

Turning the corner, there’s a tiny new bar, and it’s buzzing. On one side it opens onto the calle, inside is the bar: a glass cabinet of cicheti, some bottles of wine, and a display of your favourite bitters above. There are two bar stools, a couple of barrels outside, and that’s about it.

 

‘Un spritz al Cynar, con prosecco, grazie’

 

There are two guys behind the bar, the service is friendly, and so are the prices:

A spritz is €2.50, or €3.50 con prosecco – a generous pour over ice, topped up with prosecco and a splash of soda. They have Cynar and Select, as well as the usual Campari and Aperol.

You prefer wine? €1 for un ombra, or €2.50 for un calice, a proper glass. Cicheti are €1.50 a piece.

 

 

The seemingly never-ending pour

 

 

We enjoyed it so much, we went back for a drink after dinner….

 

‘Later that night’

 

 

In fact, we were back the next morning too, for coffee this time, although there were spritzes lined up on the bar by 11am.

 

 

The morning spritz, Cip & Ciop

 

 

Demographic: all ages, from a babe in arms upwards; a mix of visitors and locals.

Playlist: energetic salsa.

What’s it called? Cip e Ciop. In English, that’s pronounced (approximately) ‘Chip Eh Chop’. None the wiser, I looked it up; apparently they are Disney cartoon characters, two chipmunks whose names translate as ‘Chip ‘n’ Dale’. 

Where to find it: the closest Vaporetto stop is Riva di Biásio on the Grand Canal; it’s the first stop from the train station, which explains the flow past the bar of visitors with luggage. Turn right off the vaporetto stop, until you have to turn left into Calle del Pistor, and Cip e Ciop is on the corner of Lista dei Bari.

 

I’d say you can’t miss it, but this being Venice, of course you can….

 

The Grand Canal near Riva di Biasio

 

http://www.hotelcazustovenezia.it/en/

Ristorante La Zucca: http://www.lazucca.it/en

My review https://wp.me/p7AW4i-zv

Dalla Marisa, by way of Buckingham Palace

Her Majesty the Queen owns the largest collection in the world of paintings by Canaletto. This was celebrated in November 2018 by an exhibition at The Queen’s Gallery, Buckingham Palace: Canaletto and the Art of Venice. 

One of the events organised at the gallery was a conversation on Venice with art historian Andrew Graham Dixon and restaurateur Russell Norman. 

When asked in the Q & A which painting in the room they would like to take home, Russell immediately laid his claim for a large canvas depicting the basilica of Santa Maria della Salute.

Andrew confessed that Canaletto, although a fine painter, was not his favourite. If he were to be transported back to the 18th century to meet him, his first question would probably be ‘what can you tell me about Caravaggio?’

Another questioner asked what the pair thought of the food scene in Venice today.

Andrew agreed with Russell that if you see a restaurant with linen tablecloths, each place set with two knives, two forks and two glasses….

 

‘Don’t go there’

 

Instead, Russell Norman made reference to Dalla Marisa, a Venetian institution. He recently described it as

“The cacophonous canteen that is Dalla Marisa.

32 seated inside and close to 60 outside (no women inside at all). Everything cooked by a kitchen brigade of two, who both look like they’re in their 70’s. One washer-upper and two waiters. Three choices of pasta & 3 choices of meat course (it’s famous for its carne, being situated next to the old abbatoir) There are international art dealers side-by-side with paint-splattered labourers, gondoliere, politicians and a few cops”.

 

Outdoor tables at Dalla Marisa on the Cannaregio Canal

 

 

It seemed churlish not to follow his advice

I had read that there’s a fixed price of €35 for three courses including wine. It was to be lunch before an evening flight, so we decided to go for it. While they take bookings, it was Monday and the weather was good, so we took the risk and turned up to take our chances. Arriving at 1pm it was busy, so we loitered optimistically by the door, and a table outside soon became available.

Inside it’s a busy dining room. At the back you can catch a glimpse of the chef in her domain, an elderly lady in a white jacket and equally elderly slippers. She emerged to talk to a table of eight regulars (with a woman in charge) about their order.

There’s no printed menu, but a blackboard at the entrance indicated a more attemptable lunch for €17.

 

 

The lunch menu, Dalla Marisa

 

We opted to order in Italian. Three choices of pasta were offered by the waitress, ‘today we have tomato, ragú, or (something or other) with Bresaola’.

We both chose the Ragú, and I asked for 1/4 Vino bianco, a 250cl carafe of white wine.

The pasta arrived quite quickly, but the wine needed a reminder.

 

Half a litre came; it would have been rude to complain

 

it was was slightly frizzante, with a good head of froth.

 

The froth subsiding rapidly on vino frizzante

 

The pasta were conchiglie, little shells that were the vehicle for the mildly seasoned, oily sauce.

Perfetto. 

 

Pasta al Ragu

 

Next up, per secondo: “stew”, pork chop, steak, chicken cutlet, pork with wine.

The stew looked great on neighbouring tables, chunks of meat in a rich sauce, and the chicken was simple and good, hot from the grill.

 

Pollo grigliato

 

 

Contorni (vegetables on the side), a choice of chicory or peppers. The chicory was silky and savoury, the colour of the Cannaregio Canal.

 

 

Cicoria

 

We finished with two perfect espressi.

Towards the end of lunch, a grizzled ruffian shuffled out of the restaurant. I surmised he might be Marisa’s husband; bearded, with long hair, a crucifix earring and flip flops.

He picked up some leftover bread from a table, and threw it disconsolately into the canal for the gathering crowd of pigeons and gannets. He spent the next half hour or so ineffectually flapping his arms, trying to shoo them away when they inevitably came back for more.

 

A flapping contest

 

 

 

Russell Norman again:

‘The portions are huge and the wine on other tables seems to be bottomless (are these people going back to work?!) There is nowhere else quite like it in Venice or, indeed, beyond. I’ve heard that it, like so many Venetian institutions, is changing hands soon. I hope its philosophy and legacy remain…’

 

I like the Cannaregio Canal. The Guglie Vaporetto stop is on the Allilaguna route to the airport, and a few tourists stray from the Strada Nuova, but it feels like a working thoroughfare. There are no gondolas, there’s a small fish market by the canal, and a Jewish café is a clue to its proximity to the Venetian Ghetto (the first in the world).

 

 

Vaporetto on the Cannaregio Canal

 

Like Dalla Marisa, there’s something uncompromising about it. It’s a reminder of how Venice used to be.

 

 

Dalla Marisa

 

 

Da’a Marisa, Calle de la Canne, 652/B Cannaregio.

(near the Tre Archi bridge, Fondamenta San Giobbe)

 

https://www.fodors.com/world/europe/italy/venice/restaurants/reviews/da-marisa-477217

Just a quiet Monday night in Amsterdam

Caffè Toscanini, Amsterdam

 

Arriving early for our reservation, we asked if we could have an aperitif at the bar. I could see we were in safe hands, they stocked all the right brands. I ordered an Americano from the drinks list; equal parts Bèrto Bitter and white vermouth, with a (mere) splash of Fevertree soda. Bèrto Bitter is similar to Campari, but a little softer.

“The cocktail or the coffee?” the barman asked with a smile. “Just to be sure….”

He mixed it with care, rubbing the rim of my glass with a freshly pared twist of orange peel. I asked which white vermouth he used. “It’s a subject for discussion” he said, showing me the bottle from the chiller under the bar. It was red – Carpano Antica Formula – as he believes a classic Americano should be made with red vermouth (I agree). If his female colleague is working, he told me, she follows the menu, and uses white; he shook his head in disapproval.

 

 

 

The bar, Caffe Toscanini, Amsterdam

 

Playlist at the bar: Marvin Gaye. When we went to our table, there was no music in the restaurant, just an atmosphere of lively enjoyment. The room was full, and it was only Monday night.

 

The food: the menu and wine list change every week, and there are specials on the blackboard, which made it difficult to choose. There’s no kids’ menu except “Pasta Bimbo” (tomato sauce).

We both ordered the same salad starter from the Antipasti: radicchio, artichoke, speckled romaine lettuce, croutons, aged pecorino and balsamic vinegar. Our waiter advised “I think one is enough, it’s big. You are not rabbits”. He was right. €15.

A risotto from the Primi: white asparagus, Robiola cheese, monk’s beard (agretti).

I chose “Agnello al modo nostro” from the Secondi on the blackboard (helpfully described by our waiter as “lamb made our way…. sort of stewed and grilled”) which turned out to be the essence of spring.

 

‘Agnello al Modo Nostro’, the essence of spring lamb

 

 

 

Slices of a prime cut of lamb were tender and pink. A chunk of lamb had been boned and rolled, with herbs in the middle, and a good covering of fat (for succulence and flavour). Then there was another cut, slowly braised with tomato. Under the meat was a grilled sweet pepper and some spinach, and the dish was finished with a scattering of fresh peas al dente, and mint. It was outstanding.

Two kinds of panforte sliced thinly, for Dolci: cinnamon with almonds and cherries, the fruit like translucent fragments of ruby; and a dark one, dense with fig.

 

Our waiter was a character

Seeing my notebook on the table, he commented that it’s unusual to see someone who still writes with a pen, not (he mimed theatrically) taking hundreds of photos of their food; “what do they ever do with them?”

Assuming he was Italian, I asked where he was from. “Everyone thinks that – I’m originally from Israel, by way of New York”. As we carried on talking, he told us he’s “the oldest waiter in Amsterdam” (of his peer group). Aged 61, he’s been working in Toscanini for 29 years.

 

Wines at Toscanini

are really well chosen, and the list changes weekly, offering 8 whites and 8 reds by the glass. They are served not too cold, and poured by hand, with a taste offered each time.

Two glasses of 2015 Mario Recchi Franceschini, Offida Pecorino “Petraiae” were wonderful with the salad; golden, soft, rich and complex.

We chose a glass of simple, fresh Sangiovese from Umbria (Bigi) with the lamb (€5.80), and a glass of Soave Pieropan with the risotto.

 

Prices:

Antipasti €8 – 21, Primi € 18 – 19, Secondi €20 – 25, Dolci €8

Prices for wine range from €4.80 a glass for something simple and appetising, to €11 for something grander.

 

 

To finish the meal I asked for a grappa morbida, the soft one. 

The barman said he didn’t have one, “but I’ll find you something”.

He returned with a tumbler of grappa di moscato.

 

The whole experience reminded us of one of our favourite restaurants in Venice, which prompted the comment “it’s right up there with Al Covo” for its smiles of welcome, wonderful food and a sense of fun.

 

Caffè Toscanini, Ristorante Cucina Casareccia,

Lindengracht 75, 1015 KD Amsterdam

0031 020 623 2813     https://restauranttoscanini.nl/

 

 

Argala: in praise of bitterness

Childhood friends Enrico and Piero started making pastis in 2005, in Piero’s grandmother’s kitchen. Pastis is a drink associated with the south of France, so when they entered it in a competition, it was a bit of a joke; they live in Piemonte, on the wrong side of the Maritime Alps.  It wasn’t their intention to create a business.

They followed their tastes, blending bitter and sweet ingredients to create drinks that express the personality of the place where they are made, and where the plants and botanicals grow, between the Mediterranean and the Italian Alps.

 

 

Piero & Enrico

 

They are good at what they do. Over time they developed new products, and Argalà became a business in 2011, when it became clear that they couldn’t run it in their spare time. Enrico was an agronomist, Piero is the creative one (the dog in their logo was his attempt to draw star anise).

ArGaLà means “satisfied” in their Occitan dialect; satisfied by a well set table, enjoyed in the company of friends. It is not an ordinary satisfaction, though, but almost a peace of mind.

I first came across them at Salone del Gusto in Turin, in 2016, and was impressed by the quality of the range. Since then they have added new products, and this year their importers, Tutto Wines, brought them to London to introduce them to the U.K. trade, at the Soho restaurant Ducksoup.

Their best seller is the Bitter. It has something in common with Campari, but they are not setting out to make copies of commercial brands. It’s a well balanced drink, using orange peel and wild blue gentian flowers for bitterness, red hibiscus for colour and sourness. It’s 25% alcohol, the same as Campari.

 

 

Star Anise and Blue Gentian flowers

 

To make their Gin al Genepy, they extract flavour from Genepy flowers for 6 months, before infusing with alpine juniper and other botanicals (including elderberries, mountain pine needles, vanilla, caraway and coriander seeds).

“We wanted to make this extravagant gin, to bottle the mountains”, says Enrico.

Tonic brings out its floral character, and a hint of grapefruit. It can be drunk neat, as a digestif. It’s also recommended as a “bees’ knees” cocktail, with lemon and honey. 45% alcohol.

 

Pastis is made with less anise and sugar than is usual, more herbs and plants. The Anise gives the amber colour, and the cloudiness when it’s diluted or iced.  Chefs use it in cooking, for shrimps, seafood and desserts. 45% again.

 

Amaro – I tasted an advance sample of their new Alpine Amaro; it’s soft, warm and bittersweet, “you can add sweetness, but you can’t take it away”, says Enrico. The flavour has top notes of galangal, rhubarb, artichoke and orange peel, and base notes from pine needles and lavender. Aged for two months, it will be filtered and bottled in time for Christmas 2018.

 

 

ArGaLa Pastis with star anise

 

 

Argalà are involved in a new project to make Vermouth with a group of friends and customers, which will be called “Bonhomie” after the group’s restaurant in Paris. (Bonhomie expresses the same feeling as Argalà).

Enrico and Piero work with local farms, and as an experiment they have recently planted a field on an organic farm, where they are growing absinthe, sage, oregano, fennel seed and dill. Rye is grown in the Valle Gesso nearby, so perhaps we should look out for an Italian whiskey!

As the business has grown and they needed more space, they stayed close to their roots in the countryside; they built a new facility in Piero’s grandmother’s stable.

 

Amaro – a bitter footnote:

Italians prize bitterness in their food and drink: artichokes, chicory, digestifs all share the desirable taste they call “Amaro”.

In a 2015 edition of the BBC Radio 4 Food Programme, Dan Saladino explored the flavour we call ‘bitter’, and asked if bitterness is disappearing from our food and drink – and why this matters.

“Bitter tastes are found all over the planet; wild leaves, fruits, vegetables and more. Bitterness is also charged with cultural and culinary meaning. It can be revered, sought after – but it is also a sign of toxicity, and is, it seems, increasingly being shunned”.

To listen to the programme, click here:

https://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/b06f4z3k

 

Websites:

Argalà http://www.argalart.com/en/

Bonhomie http://www.bonhomie.paris/

U.K. Importers Tutto Wines’ list of stockists: http://tuttowines.com/stockists

Ducksoup https://www.ducksoupsoho.co.uk/

A drinking game in Sardinia

“Find the oldest vintage rosé”

 

Noticing the poor stock rotation in the local supermarket led to my invention of this little game (and the winner was. . . . 2007! from the highly regarded Cantina Mesa).

 

I also noticed this example of sophisticated Italian label design:

 

 

Classy.

 

I stocked up with a few Ichnusa beers, a local brand with the Sardinian flag as its label.

 

Under Three Flags, from left to right: Catalan, Italian and Sardinian flags

 

 

In La Bifora restaurant on the first evening, we tried two offerings from La Macchia, a Sardinian brand: a fruity Vermouth Bianco, and a Bitter, a touch stronger than Campari at 28%, which also had a pleasantly fruity character.

 

 

Macchia aperitivi

 

The quintessential white grape in Sardinia is Vermentino. One of the best known is Aragosta, named after the Sardinian Rock Lobster.  It’s produced by Cantina Santa Maria La Palma, who also make this  pretty pale pink Cannonau (Grenache) with the same label.

We bought this from the little grocer shop in the Mercato Civico.

 

Aragosta, the perfect holiday pink

 

 

Also from Santa Maria La Palma is this “Akenta” Vermentino Extra Dry Spumante 2016. Vermentino works well with bubbles, this had flavours of stone fruits like white peach and greengage; it’s soft, with gentle acidity.

 

 

Akenta Extra Dry

 

Vermentino Spumante. Who knew?

 

“Abbaia” 2016, Colli del Limbara I.G.T. was an oddity from Cantina del Vermentino. As far as I could understand from the shop’s owner, he described it as being made from Nebbiolo, which apparently is grown on Sardinia, although a search described it as a “rare red blend” of Cannonau and Monica di Sardegna (ubiquitous red Sardinian varietals) with Pascale and Malaga. Perhaps he said “tastes like Nebbiolo”, it proved to be savoury and light, with pleasant acidity, and was refreshing when lightly chilled.

 

Nebbiolo? Si o No?

 

This was another oddity, a three year old rosé made from Nieddera, a grape new to me (it’s possibly a variation of Carignano).

 

Vintage 2015, hence the orange colour.

This rosé still tasted fresh, despite its age, and was perfectly pleasant to drink

 

 

“Zenti Arrubia”

 

Most of the wines pictured came from Enoteca Lu Baril. It’s the kind of back street wine shop where you take 2 litre plastic bottles to have them filled from steel tanks that smell of vinegar, but the bottles we bought were good recommendations, and inexpensive, mostly around €8.

 

Enoteca Lu Baril, Via Canepa 13.