Of Tipples and Tinctures

What’s your favourite tipple? This is quite a topical question, especially since Christmas is just round the corner. We can’t be locked down from a drink with one other person surely?

In recent years there has been a resurgence of gin drinking, especially in London where the juniper-flavoured potion started being distilled in the seventeenth century after being introduced by the Dutch. A G & T seems to be a traditional introduction to an evening’s entertainment in many circles and certainly there are some interesting brands around: Bombay Sapphire, for example, an echo of the Raj if there ever was one. For me, however, gin is unbearably connected with ‘1984’ and Winston’s last drink at the Chestnut Tree café after he has been tortured and brain-washed to love Big Brother.

“Unbidden, a waiter came and filled his glass up with Victory Gin, shaking into it a few drops from another bottle with a quill through the cork. It was saccharine flavoured with cloves, the speciality of the cafe.”

Gin also has horrendous connotations with Hogarth’s engraving of Gin Lane where one sees the effects of the drink among which can be espied  infanticide, madness, disease, starvation and suicide.  For example, there’s that syphilitic woman throwing her child down the steps at the bottom of which is a figure reduced skeletally by the effects of the beverage.

If it was

“Drunk for a penny

Dead drunk for two pence”

I would add “dead for threepence”

Dickens, of course saw that gin was not the primal cause why people were reduced to such wretched states. He writes:

“Gin-drinking is a great vice in England, but wretchedness and dirt are a greater; and until you improve the homes of the poor, or persuade a half-famished wretch not to seek relief in the temporary oblivion of his own misery, with the pittance that, divided among his family, would furnish a morsel of bread for each, gin-shops will increase in number and splendour”.

Plus ca change!

Compare all this with the healthy humans in Hogarth’s parallel engraving of Beer Street where commerce and good company thrive. It’s almost as if the unhealthy tinctures of the continent are contrasted with honest healthy English beers.

Of course, I agree there’s nothing to beat a pint of ‘Nelson’s Blood’ brewed in Chatham, the dockyard where HMS Victory was built. It’s one of the few things that would make me return to a post-brexit UK.

Whisky and soda is OK although I prefer to drink whisky by itself, preferably from a hip flask that anyone venturing across the Highland heathers is advised to take as an essential part of their survival equipment.

I’ve tried Vodka a few times but the way it has turned me into a psychopath is frightening. No wonder Russia has the one of the highest records of domestic violence.

No, none of these would really satisfy me except for my two favourites. Not Rum and coke (I just don’t like coke that much and its taste reminds me of some tooth eroding disinfectant) but rum with a fruit juice like pineapple and coconut.

Now that’s a really sunshine drink prompting memories of wonderful holidays passed in Antigua, Saint Lucia and Saint Maarten. And particularly, in Cuba where, naturally, it is closely associated with that other fabulous snifter the Mojito, Hemingway’s favourite tipple, made with the best rum, brown sugar, lime, soda and mint. A mojito is a cocktail no-one could possibly be without, especially during these somewhat trying times.

In Italy my favourite pick-me-up is Campari and Soda which a friend calls their ‘happy drink’. Quite right too! Obtained from the infusion of bitter herbs, aromatic plants and fruit in a mixture of alcohol and water, it has an intense aroma and a ruby red colour.

This awesome drink was developed in a small bar in Novara by Gaspare Campari in 1860 who then moved to Milan a couple of years later.  The (secret) Campari recipe has remained unchanged ever since.

Campari Soda was launched in 1932: with that famous conical bottle designed by the futurist artist Fortunato Depero.

His advert designs for the drink are equally original.

I hope that you’ll have a respectable amount of your favourite tincture this Christmas. It’ll keep us company if nothing else and is a better cure for the blues than any psychotherapeutic session and (in most cases) a lot cheaper.

Now as for Italian wines …but I’d better keep this post short before I become too thirsty!

 

 

Of Vines and Olives

It’s not been the easiest of times for us two – indeed for all of us; a personal health crisis at the start of the year merged with the world health crisis brought by covid19. Even more disturbing is how time’s winged chariot seems to be pulled by ever faster steeds.

Difficulties in getting back to Italy have meant that we don’t have very much to show for in our field. Yet there are two crops which will ever survive – two items which sum up so much of Italy for me: grapes and olives.

Our vines climbing up the annexe to our house have been truly prodigious this year. Yet we have just been picking on them as a sort of dessert: we’ve never gone into wine-making although we have contributed to friends’ vendemmie (grape harvests).

When I was a kid and had already been on a couple of trips from the UK to Italy I tried to find the main reason why two European countries could have such differences between them. I suddenly blurted out ‘Italy has wine!’ ‘That’s right’, confirmed my mum. Of course, today England has some good vine growing areas particularly in Kent and Sussex but my childhood revelation continues to have some truth in it. Wine remains an essential tradition of Italian life in the way that it is not in the UK.

As for Olives several of those saplings I first planted in our field over ten years have matured into fine trees and carry their fruit with abundance this year. This is particularly heartening as it needs ten kilos of olives to produce one litre of oil.What more could one wish to have: a deep blue sky and truly warm sun around mid-day and one’s own little supply of olive trees while all around the warmth of late autumn colours embrace and the lenticular clouds above fascinate with their patterns.

It takes very little to make one happy in this world. Truly the best things in life are free – or rather they are impregnated with freedom, far away from those horrible restraints that the world (and oneself) is constantly trying to impose upon life’s essential being, particularly during this year. Liberty is there, truly, for the gathering, for the choosing….

It’s that time again in our part of the world: olive-picking time. In Longoio we are near the top height for growing olives (and vines) – 1750 feet. This year at least we’ve got something worth picking in our miniscule grove of twenty-odd trees.

If those of you living in northern climes think all this is irrelevant think again. There are now olive groves in southern England (see http://www.bbc.com/news/uk-england-kent-18551076 ) and, indeed, some London streets are lined with them (ever been down Islington’s Fife terrace?). Whether the fruit will be as succulent as that coming from the deep south of Europe is another matter of course…

Plant you own little olive tree and wait and see. The olive is a sacred tree redolent of peace and harmony and everything that can be said to be positive in our disquieting times. We’ll be back during the following weeks to collecting the fruit from this sacred tree whose oil was used to anoint kings and athletes in ancient Greece and which remains holy to this day for so many of life’s ceremonies.

Happy, happy shall we be!

This year, thanks to an exceptionally dry spell, la Vendemmia, or grape-picking for wine-making, has been going swimmingly well. It’s an occasion for bringing friends and family together and returning to one’s rural roots.

Fortunately, many Italians have kept ancestral homes and lands in the country as Italy, unlike the UK, with its nineteenth century industrial revolution, has only become a predominantly urban centred society since the last war. In 1945 over half the population was engaged as agricultural workers. Now it’s just over 5%.

I joined in a vendemmia last week-end in the beautiful hills of the Compitese between Lucca and Pisa. Since they are rather gentler than the slopes we have around here it meant that the vineyards were much easier to work.

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The grapes were transported to a press which cleverly separated the grapes from their stems and leaves and formed a must which was poured into a fermenting vat.

Here it will stay for some weeks and be stirred daily to encourage the fermentation process.

We had a beautifully extended lunch break with some excellent samples from that other harvest’, the spaghetti one (!)

The end product is, of course, Bacchus’ gift to mankind.

As the final lines of Handel’s ‘Bawdy’ (to use the eighteenth century’s description) oratorio ‘Semele’ puts it neatly:

From Semele’s ashes a phoenix shall rise,
The joy of this earth, and delight of the skies:
A God he shall prove
More mighty than Love,
And sighing and sorrow for ever prevent.

Happy, happy shall we be,
Free from care, from sorrow free.
Guiltless pleasures we’ll enjoy,
Virtuous love will never cloy;
All that’s good and just we’ll prove,
And Bacchus crown the joys of love.

 

It was as an eight-year old that I discovered the obvious difference between Italy and the United Kingdom. One was a wine country and the other wasn’t (although it’s fair to say it’s making rapid progress to catch up in that direction, thanks to climate change and cultural tastes).

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Moonlight Magic at the Villa Bonvisi-Webb

Last night, in the parterre of the Villa Bonvisi-Webb, the same villa where Byron stayed when in Bagni di Lucca, an event took place which would have delighted the great romantic poet and debaucher. It was a ‘degustazione’, or tasting, of toscani – the Italian cigar which is still manufactured in two places, one of which is in the Lucchesia – and grappa, which is a spirit distillation of wine.

The evening opened with a fascinating introduction to the toscano and the grappa. Italy is the only country in the world which is famous for three products which alleviate the tedious moments of human existence: great food, great wine and great cigars. Cuba may be famous for its cigars but not its wine, and France lacks any cigar industry.

I could go on to say the cigar produces an alkaline rather than an acid smoke which is not meant to be inhaled like cigarettes, that it is pure tobacco without cancerogenous paper (cigarettes were first invented during the Crimean war when soldiers used the paper wrappings of their cartridges and filled them with tobacco), and that the savouring of a toscano is improved by keeping it in a humidor which preserves its original moisture, that it is not to be lit with  standard cigarette lighter but with special long matches, that it is preferable not to cut it and that there are three separate phases to its enjoyment.

As I have already enough vices I kept but did not smoke the cigar offered, together with the long matches which were given to us. With the grappa, however, it was a different story. We were given the opportunity to savour four different varieties ranging from basic distilled grappa to a delicious one made from Chardonnay grapes. Grappa is truly the king of Italian spirits, the country’s equivalent of Scotch whiskey, and, as with whiskey, there are many different varieties based on the way the spirit nectar has been distilled and the years it has aged. Toscani cigars too, have an amazing 23 different varieties.

For me, however, the best experience was to be with excellent company in such a splendid full-moon lit ambience. It was a truly magical dusk of connoisseur tasting and amicable gatherings.

I give full marks to Valerio Ceccarelli who, yet again, has proved to be a most energetic impulse in restoring Bagni di Lucca’s visitor attractions, to Guido Bracci of Bagni’s Enoteca (wine shop), to the providers of the cigars and the grappa and to the rest of the team who turned the grounds of the wonderful villa into ‘some enchanted evening’.

Here is a small selection of photos from last night. As you can see, the rule of no under-eighteens to the event was waived in the case of dogs (and cats).