Quick visit to NYC to see my sister and family. I haven't been in almost a year ... way too long. I take the train to Philly for a night to visit friends and have the de rigeur philly cheesesteak - hey, when visiting a place for the first time, it's a great idea to sample the local specialty. And what makes a cheese steak authentic? Cheeze Whizz!
Back to NYC: it was frickin' cold. The 15-block walk from ICP to the Modern left me so cold it took a 20-minute break with a large hot chocolate to recover. I prowled museums and galleries for the most part. Seeing Goya's the Forge in its new hanging at the Frick was fantastic. This is one of the greatest paintings (ever, IMHO) and the new hanging avoids the glare and reflection problems at the old location. Plus you can get close enough to examine the brushwork. At the Met, I love going to the room of Goyas and reacquainting myself. The Modern had a super-crowded exhibit of Tim Burton's work which I avoided. There are some fabulous new photographs hanging and I wandered through the permanent galleries, enjoying works by Rousseau le Douanier, Picasso's Demoiselles, and de Chirico.
Went to Maialino for dinner one night; I'd read about this new roman trattoria and was curious ... the place is completely overwhelmed by its of-the-moment "itness". I had the eponymous maialino, a roast suckling pig, which was delicious. The portion is for 2-3 people, so I had a lot of leftovers. Service was well-meaning, friendly, and inept. A nice touch: giving you individually portioned loaves of ciabatta bread for making sandwiches with your inevitable leftovers the next day. A not-so-nice touch: leaving your leftover bag at the coat check for pickup so you feel obligated to give yet another tip.
Also, excellent meal at Yerba Buena on the LES with A & T, my sister and brother-in-law. This is a classic neighborhood gem: if this was near my home in Denver, I'd be here at least every other week. The pan-Latin-influenced cuisine is delicious, easy to enjoy and we scarfed every last bite of everything that was brought to our table. The place communicated its aspirations and values clearly through the menu, and the service is efficient, friendly and unpretentious. Every dish we had was delicious, fit well with the restaurant's mission and was beautifully presented. The owner was on hand and having him roam the tiny dining room made us feel like we were in someone's living room. Wine list was full of great things from all parts of the latin wine world, but with a bit of a dearth in the $45-75 range and a curious lack of depth in Spanish Grenache. As we left, snow was beginning to fall, always a magical thing in NYC.
A very interesting white consumed with my sister at her apartment: a wine made from the city vineyards of Zurich, the StaatsKellerei Zurich, from Pinot Noir (vinified off the skins), Riesling, Sylvaner, Muscat and Gewurztraminer. Wildly aromatic, with scents of flowers, peaches, hazelnuts and citrus,it was surprisingly light on the palate, very crisp and delineated, with good nectarine, melon and apple flavors. Lovely, balanced, light and refreshing. (3.0nb)
Everyone is waiting for the fruit to ripen and the harvest to really get started. Luciano and Luca seem nervous, almost. Luciano tells me that last year, the final grapes arrived at the winery on October 2. This year, we’ve barely gotten 15% of them in by the same date. The worry is that everything is going to ripen and be ready to pick at the same time. Generally, the nights have been very cool (I’ve been wearing pj’s to keep warm) and the days almost hot – perfect for the Nebbiolo. Still, things are not ripening quickly enough. The morning is spent moving pallets, packing shipments, busy, busy, busy … but I feel like some alone time so I start on cleaning the crush pad at 8.30. This is a big job, and some of the grapes that arrived last night were truly terrible, awful grapes – one was a variety called “Blood of Judas” – a minor Tuscan grape that is added to jug wine for color. It throws off so much tartrate and color that the stuff is literally coated all over the destemmer. Blood of Judas is one of the few varieties of grape to have red juice, so after eating a few last night – tart, bitter, tannic and not really pleasant – my tongue is stained blackish-red. Andrea, Christian, Ivan and Luciano think this is hilarious ...
The day dawns foggy – very typical given the temperature variation that is common here in autumn. The harvest begins today in Valmaggiore for Nebbiolo. VM is in the Roero, an area north of Barolo, on the other side of the Tanaro River, past Alba. I drive out with Luciano for a few hours of picking in the afternoon – it is bright and sunny and hot up here, as opposed to the chill in the air around Barolo. Most of the rest of the winery crew has been out here since before 8am. The geology changes completely here – the soils are all sand. Luciano and I talk about the differences between the two areas on the 25-minute ride over. Driving up to the top of the vineyard on a single-lane dirt road is a challenge – the truck keeps slipping around in the sand. Kinda like driving at dunes … really. 
Friday Andrea and I begin moving the barrels of last year's wine out of the first ageing cellar (which will be warmed up for the malolactic fermentation) to the main ageing cellar. We use an electric forklift and I manage to get enormous splinters in the side of my calf as I brush past the rough wooden beans on which the barrels rest. As the week has gone so swimmingly well so far, I decide to ignore them. There will not be another fuss around the new guy!!! Later, back at my apartment that evening, it takes 45 minutes to get them out. Though they didn't go deep, the longest one is a half-inch long and as big around as a knitting needle. All I have is a pair of tonenail clippers and a stubborn streak. Finally they are out and I am in bed and asleep by 9.30.
As soon as I arrive at 7.30, I am in the emptied tank, shoveling out pomace, while Luciano transfers it into the big basket presses. Good thing the fermentations are slowing down and that the O2 levels are much better – I am not nearly out of breath, even in the huge tank. 
(Yes, my hair is getting long, and yes, it gets really curly and wild when it is damp like in a tank.) After shoveling everything out, we roll the baskets out to the hydraulic press. The liquid from a first gentle press is combined with the free-run juice. The second press, at 200 bar, is vinified separately and the resulting wine (harder and more tannic than the regular wine) is sold off to some old guys, bulk customers who bring their own demijohns to the winery to be filled. All day is shovel, fill baskets, press, dump pomace, clean baskets … repeat. A tank of wine yields 3-4 baskets of pomace, so this is a long and slow process, as each press takes about 2 hours. We finish up after lunch. 
Luciano shoveling the pomace out of the tanks. For a guy in his sixties, he is in incredible shape. He has the easy efficiency of someone who has been performing the same actions for a long time - a complete professional in every sense of the word. For example, when shoveling pomace, I manage to get bits of grape everywhere, while the mess on the floor when Luciano is shoveling is ... almost nothing. This pisses me off. I've shoveled plenty, and I should be doing better. By the end of the day, I am definitely neater. there are little tricks that I pick up by watching him carefully.
The basket lifted off the plug of solids after pressing. The solids go off to a grappa distillery. Every few days, a truck comes by and picks up the pomace for the Marolo distillery. In the meantime, the stuff is outside, covered, in the shade ... I remember that Poli, in the Veneto, picks up and distills his pomace the day it is pressed so that nothing can oxidize and give off-flavors to the grappa. This stuff will not be at that quality level, unfortunately. I've had Marolo grappas and they have a bit of the fire in the throat feeling that I find so off-putting.
Andrea cleaning the baskets after pressing. You have to scrape the remaining stuff out of the inside of the baskets so that the juice can flow freely during the next use. 
Friday dawns rainy and cool, scattered sun between showers, but the valley is still insanely gorgeous. I walk through town, past the rail station and into the woods toward St Moritz, the neighboring village, along back paths and around one of the lakes. Lovely. 
Saturday was one of those insanely gorgeous fall days - not a frickin' cloud in the sky. C has driven down from Frankfurt with K, who turns out to be really nice. She's just bought a little place for herself and I get a quick tour - lovely retreat for her. We get out for a hike to the Boval hut up the Morteratsch valley – this is the hut where my grandfather, a mountain guide, died 54 years ago at 44 years old – exactly my age now. He left his wife and 5 daughters – how different things have turned out for me. The hut is located along the side of a glacier that I have been scrambling over for 30 years – and it is sad to see how quickly the glacier is dying. Warming is real – the glacier is collapsing on itself. Still, it is hard to be too sad on such a gorgeous day. The sun is shining, there is a dusting of fresh snow on the high peaks already, and the temperature in the light is warm enough for shorts and a t-shirt. At the hut, after a two-hour hike, we order some lunch – R, the hut steward, is still here. I’ve known him for ages, a really nice guy with grizzly beard, sparkling eyes and a great sense of humor. The hike down, though, is freezing- this side of the valley is in shade, and the wind has picked up a bit. Brrrrrr. 
At the base, still sweaty and gross, C and I ham it up for K.
Ivan and I work together down the Dolcetto rows. We talk – he is a very cool guy, very smart, ambitious in an underhanded sort of way. His family owns land, orchards and vineyards in Bulgaria, where they make distillates – he is planning to resuscitate the family business and become the premier brandy producer in Bulgaria. I remember Jacopo Poli’s edict: a license to make grappa (or brandy) is like a license to print money. Hmmmm. Investment potential?
