Tutt’ Appost (Part I: The Arrival)

 
Tutt’ Appost (Part I: The Arrival)

, There are many Italian idioms.  “Tutt'appost” is but one – common Neapolitan dialect for “Tutto è a posto,” an expression that conveys the idea that “all is in place, everything is as it should be and in order.  You hear it both as a question and in reply.  After being away from Italy for many months, we were once again in the air bound for Italia, all was tutt'appost.  This time we would make the crossing aboard an Aer Lingus flight.  With much in the news of manufacturing problems at Boeing Aircraft, it may have been providential that we were aboard an Airbus, given the issues Boeing has to resolve.  

As the last gray light of sunset said farewell, we’d already crossed Newfoundland and were into the North Atlantic, south of Greenland.  For ease of access, as we often do, we sat amidship, across the aisle from each other and well away from the banks of toilets that would soon see a steady stream of patrons in such a large aircraft.  We'd learned a few things over the years.

      The drone of our engines, the heartbeat of our inexorable advance, was only interrupted by occasional outbursts from two infants seated somewhere ahead of us who’d apparently just become verbal, along with an acapella toddler who more than made up for their lulls.  With a tailwind, sometimes approaching 150 mph, we were making good time, but we still had hours to go before we’d scoot past Iceland to our intermediate stopover in Dublin, Ireland. 

We could now relax following the hectic pace that accompanies a day of travel.  Although it was far from over at this point, everything had gone smoothly.  The bus ride to the airport had left that agita to someone else.  Checking in and dropping off our luggage had gone smoothly as well.  Even TSA, our form of airport security check, allowed us to keep our shoes on.  This was normal because of our age, but it saved us the embarrassment of having to demonstrate our agility to balance on one foot.  Nevertheless, even the smallest convenience is appreciated, though it allowed them more time to examine our apothecary of prescriptions, beginning with our three-ounce containers of liquids.  Thorough as they must be, they never seem to avoid scouring Maria Elena’s commercial containers or the inside of my backpack, testing for evidence of illegal residues.  With that behind us and now certified as “good guys,” we used what time we still had before boarding to unwind at a nearby Legal Seafood terminal restaurant.  There, along with our travel companions, Lenny (Leonardo) and Joann (Giovanna), we enjoyed calamari and Ceasar salads accompanied by pale White Allagash schooners of beer.  We loitered there long enough to start a conversation with our waitress.  Her slight accent gnawed at me until I finally asked and learned that Sonya was from Albania.  I am glad I had asked, for before we headed for the gate, she’d given us a list of places to visit along the Albanian coast if we were to ever hop the short distance from Italy by ferry across the Adriatic.

It was approaching 5AM when we touched down in Dublin.  One advantage of such an early arrival is that it is deserted at that hour.  However, an arrival, no matter the hour, will not avoid what for us is a major disadvantage of this airport.  I’d estimate a half-mile concourse separates one end of the terminal, where international flights like ours arrive, to where internal EU flights like Ryan Air and easyJet operate.  If your arrival flight is late, roller skates would definitely come in useful to make the run to your next flight.  Even if you are on time, making this transfer is a hard slog.  In any case, we saved time by not having to go through customs even though this was our initial entry point into the EU.  I can’t explain it, but it would wait until we arrived next in Naples.

      The cabin on our three-hour flight south to Napoli was filled.  The Irish couple next to me were on a three-day holiday.  They were headed for the Amalfitana with sunny Positano and Amalfi in their sights, both places they’d never visited.  They are fortunate, as are all Europeans, that the convenience of modern, low-cost travel puts them close to varied worlds and cultures.  We chatted until inflight service began with the arrival of a smiling attendant.  Everything but water came at a cost.  Thinking back on it, even the seats we'd selected came at an added cost.  You had to choose a seat offered at varied costs depending on its location.  There was no option, as with luggage, to turn down the seat offers if you preferred to stand the entire flight!  In the near future, would we see a fee for oxygen or for use of the water closet?  That daydream aside, the coffee was interesting.  While sipping it, I quickly found it filled with coffee grinds.  My seatmates, who preferred tea, explained that it came with a cover intent on more than preventing spills.  I needed to drink it with the lid on, for in the lid was a tightly meshed screen that served as a filter.  Out the window, as I carefully sipped my coffee, we marveled as we cruised over snow-capped mountain ranges and glaciers of the French Alps, all the while thinking Boeing, at least its coffee makers, looked better and better.  

We arrived in Naples on time to 80-degree temperatures.  Per usual, buses shuttled us to the terminal, where the perfunctory arrival process had evidently improved.  Pedestals with scanners first read the newfangled biometric data on our passports.  After reviewing the date from our scanned passports, an officer reassuringly stamped our booklets the old-fashioned way.  It's always nice to have physical proof in hand.  It was then on to the lottery of baggage claim.  Here again, there were noticeable differences, mainly an increase in the number of baggage carousels, none with feral children riding along.  I’d meant to invest in ‘Airtags’ but forgot.  They would have allowed us to see the location of your luggage at pretty much any time, including the cargo hold of our aircraft.  A blinking icon on a fellow traveler’s cellphone showed me his suitcase was safely aboard just below us during the flight.  Instead, I nervously watched and waited as each luggage delivery went by on the belt, absent our bags until the very end, when our three pieces amazingly appeared together.  I stopped praying and, with a gaff life arm motion, snatched them from the belt.  A fist pump to Maria Elena, waiting across the room, messaged her that I’d found them.  I should have expected them to be at the end because we had deposited our checked baggage early at our departure airport.  Oh, me of little faith.

Hallelujah, with their arrival, another worrisome phase of a traveler’s day was complete.  Now, all that remained was to get to Calitri from Capodichino Airport.  For this final phase, our friend, Joe, also known as “American Joe,” had driven to Naples in his Range Rover, big enough for four passengers and our luggage.  We had coordinated by phone during our Dublin stopover once I’d swapped out our cellphone’s Verizon SIM cards for our Italian Vodaphone SIM cards.  That's another story.  As we taxied in, I contacted Joe to check that he’d arrived and coordinate our rendezvous upon exiting the terminal. 

It was rather early in the day.  The confused mayhem of arrivals and departures had not yet reached its normal airport tempo.  We got away quickly with only a few suitcases strapped to the roof rack.  I was the lucky one in the front seat, where I especially appreciated the added space, finally freed from hours of cramped aircraft seating.  Though Maria Elena, Giovanna, and Leonardo were relegated to the back seat, we all enjoyed the added bonus of refreshing aria condizionata (air conditioning).  In the days ahead, none of us would enjoy such luxury.  Little two-door Bianca, our Fiat, would be our transportation portal from then on.

A few turns out of the airport put us on the A1 Autostrada.  South led to Reggio Calabria, where the ferries plied the mythological waters of Scylla and Charybdis between the mainland and Sicily, and turning north led to Rome, as all roads do.  We went north, but not even two miles, only as far as the IKEA superstore landmark to one side, where we turned east to join the A16 Autostrada that headed to the opposite coast.  We soon topped the spine of the Apennine Mountains, separating the coastal plain from the bucolic interior of Campania.  Follow A16 long enough and you arrive in Puglia and the shores of the Adriatic Sea.  Our drive was well short of that, for as we approached Avellino, we exited to enter the Irpinian countryside of picturesque valleys dotted with farms and lofty mountains coated with chestnut forests.

Our only stop was for lunch about midway along our route at BraDevi, where, among other specialties, we enjoyed a bottle of Taurasi vino in celebration of our arrival.  There was more celebration ahead, for on our arrival in Calitri, we discovered it was the feast day of San Canio, and the streets were crowded.

      It was a bit challenging, but once Joe dropped off the four of us, we managed to roll and tote our belongings through the Borgo to our door.  Along the way, to the accompaniment of the clatter of our suitcase wheels on the cobbles, a path slightly uphill in addition to some stairs through a tunnel on the final heat, we each reconsidered whether we really needed the extra shoes and outfits we’d packed, in my case, down to the number of sets of underwear I’d packed.  It brought to mind visions of an enormous painting of the biblical expulsion of Cain we’d once seen at Musée d'Orsay in Paris.  Looking at that painting, I admit I may be exaggerating a bit here.  It wasn’t that bad.  We were not that exhausted, nor were we condemned to perpetually wander; nonetheless, after cars, buses, and aircraft, our arrival concluded an extra-long day.  Unlike Cain, we had a destination.  Fortunately, we managed to arrive with all our belongings, requiring only one trip from the piazza.  For Maria Elena and I, we lugged enough for a three month stay through summer to fall temperatures.  Home at last, while everyone relaxed and caught their breath, I dug out the keys and opened the door to Casa Calitri. 

A few hours later, following much needed naps, we’d recovered enough to meander along nearby Via Berrilli to Enzo and Lisa’s L’Antico Grotta, which was thankfully open for dinner.  Although it was midnight as we sat back and enjoyed not only the atmosphere of the grotto and a charcuterie of meats and cheese along with pasta and wine, our bodies didn’t seem to mind the late hour due to the time difference which put in at 6 PM in the USA.  Tutt'Appost!

      In the days that followed, the four of us set up the house that we’d closed ten months earlier.  In a day or two, all was in order from the Internet to the umbrella up on the rooftop terrazzo (terrace).  But itchy to travel, a few days and far too many meals later, we found ourselves on the road.  This time, our day trip would be to the ancient Irpinian village of Taurasi, and the fabulous Cantina of Antonio Caggiano located in the middle of the Taurasi.  We’d visited years before.  It was so impressive that we wanted to share it with Leonardo and Giovanna. 

There were a number of ways to get there.  They came down to either by secondary roads or, more quickly, via the A16 Autostrada.  The vote was for the former, although as the driver and anticipating what was ahead, I tried unsuccessfully to stuff the ballot box but to no avail.  The ride itself was an adventure.  It was mainly up and down along ridge lines with picturesque views of farms, valleys, small hamlets, and distant peaks.  At times, the roads narrowed enough that tall plants, actually a form of weed that looks like a corn stalk, tipped enough to brush the side of Bianca.  Up and down, over hill and dale, shifting all the way, much of it in first gear, made for excitement which was heightened further by an adrenalin rush when I sensed motion in a field to my left and hit the brakes as a cinghiale (wild boar), moving at high speed, darted across the road.  Though it wasn’t a rhino, it was as though we’d somehow been dislocated to a Serengeti Plains safari.

Taurasi is the namesake for the region’s production of DOCG wine.  To be certified Taurasi, the vineyards must be located within the boundaries of the 17 municipalities, all within the province of Avellino, where Calitri is situated.  The total area of this production zone is about 100,000 acres.  Its DOC status, evident on the neck label on each bottle, was established in 1970.  It was a long time coming when, in 1993, Antonio’s Taurasi rose to the prestigious rank of DOCG and became the first red wine in all of Campania to achieve such a designation. 

Taurasi and Taurasi Riserva are red wines based principally on the Aglianico grapes.  They were awarded Denominazione di Origine Controllata (DOC) status in 1970 and upgraded to Denominazione di Origine Controllata e Garantita (DOCG) status in 1993.  The volcanic soils of the region demonstrate the potential the Aglianico grape has to make wines on par with the Nebbiolo grape of Piedmont and the Sangiovese grape of Tuscany.  Its award of DOCG status and growing recognition were a resounding breakthrough for Campania.  The popularity of the region's wine is a relatively recent phenomenon.  Until the early 1990s, there was only one winery, Mastroberardino, producing wine for the export market.  That all changed by the mid-2000s.  By that time, there were over 293 producers in the Taurasi zone.  You can't ask for better sunshine in a bottle.

The personality of Taurasi features an intense ruby red color.  It is fruity with a complex aroma, with notes of licorice and vanilla on an elegant background of small berries.  This doesn’t come easy.  As you would expect, the grapes are harvested when ripened.  After destemming and pressing, they are subjected to fermentation with intense maceration.  I am no oenologist, but this is a process where the phenolic materials of the grape, such as tannins (a catch-all term for the group of compounds that impact bitterness in the finish of red wine), natural coloring agents and flavor compounds are leached from the grape skins into the must.  This is followed by malolactic transformation (another term where tart-tasting malic acid, naturally present in grape must, is converted to softer-tasting lactic acid).  Maturation occurs in French oak barriques for a period of 12-18 months.  Antonio's Rosso is aged a minimum of three years, including one year in a barrel.   For wines labeled Riserva, the wines must be aged longer, a minimum of four years, including 18 months in barrels.  In addition to grappa and sparkling wines, their whites include Fiano di Avellino and Greco di Tufo, two additional DOCG-rated varietals.

In 1990, Antonio says he decided to build the winery for the fun of it, but mostly, he was driven by a pressing desire to give voice to the history and traditions of his beloved hometown, to give insight into the history and traditions of his beloved Taurasi.  He built his winery to modern technical standards and an old-fashioned esthetic taste.  It had changed little since we were there years earlier. 

We were greeted by Antonio’s son Giuseppe, known to all as Pino, who today runs the company with his father’s help.  Pino, with the assistance of his manager Paolo, was kind enough to host our visit on a day they are usually closed.  We had contacted Pino to coordinate our visit, and he made time for us.  Pino grew up in the business.  He’d always helped his father, from rigorous work in the vineyards to his passionate and attentive oenological interpretations of today.  Together, father and son, they have contributed to the creation of a qualitative personality in the style of their great wine, which has distinguished the Antonio Caggiano company as a great interpreter of Irpinia wines.

Entry to the labyrinth below was through a corridor that featured an antique Vespa.  It caught my eye due to its apparent rarity for it included a spare tire behind the seat. The corridor itself was lined with examples of another of Antonio’s passions, photography.  Antonio Caggiano has been a passionate and enthusiastic globetrotting photographer for years, from the cold of the Arctic to the African desert, from the United States to South America, and then from the “Hall of the Lord,” the old family vineyard to the construction work on his cellars which began in 1990.  His Nikon camera remains active to this day.  A self-image portrays him clutching his camera, an Italian cigar, the find that in cornucopia fashion gets broader as it extends from his clenched teeth.  Other photos depict famous personages who have visited over the years.

Earlier, upon entering the cantina lobby, we were introduced to another of his passions, a realm centered around paintings, some in oil, others in bright watercolors, some mounted, many leaning in columns on the floor extending from the walls.  There was no indication any were for sale.  In my enthusiasm to look through them, many of which were impressive, though I thought I had, I failed to take any photos. 

The territory of Taurasi, an ancient Irpinia village, is the heart of the Taurasi DOCG production area.  The award-winning Antonio Caggiano Winery is a center for knowing and appreciating the great Irpinia wines.  Taurasi DOCG, Fiano di Avellino DOCG and Greco di Tufo DOCG are its marquees, top of the line.  It is precisely in the village of Taurasi where the Antonio Caggiano Winery is located.

Beneath the reception area lay a mysterious underground world.  It is one of the most beautiful and spectacular cellars in Campania.  You walk in amazement among tens of thousands of bottles resting in niches carved into the stone walls. These barred recesses are not so much to keep its inhabitants from escaping but to keep pillaging outside hands from removing them.  They contain a fortune of Taurasi vintages from every year since the winery began. 

The uniqueness of its spectacular cellars is immediately evident as you walk through its many fascinating tunnels.  It is not simply a place of barrels, bottles, and vats, but a true museum of winemaking culture.  In every corner, on every wall, and in the many hollows carved into the walls, you can see tools and utensils typical of winemaking.  The tools and hundreds of barriques, valued at approximately $1000 each, are accompanied by a variety of works of art in wood, glass, and stone, some made by Antonio himself, others donated by artist friends who make the atmosphere even more evocative.

There are ancient stone fountains, scenes of grape harvests, a collection of corks as well as a history of corks, grown old bottling machines, a not-so-miniature nativity scene that fills a room, and bottle stoppers including a wall covered with a collection of corkscrews.  A cross made of bottles high above an altar denotes a unique chapel beneath the earth.  And everywhere there the barrels, each harboring aging great wines, including Taurasi, the Macchia dei Goti, the Salae Domini, and Taurì.

In the States, Aperol, for example, is expensive — $32 for a regular-size bottle as opposed to $14 for a large bottle in Italy.  The cost differential is even greater with respect to Taurasi.  Thankfully, before departing we were able to purchase some absent the middlemen.

Wine, that most excellent of potions, was and is so renowned that gods allied with wine, the likes of Bacchus and Dionysus, were included in the pantheon of Olympus.  Taurasi is one such godly elixir.  For those who know me, they know I’m a talker.  Wine only prods me to spill more words from my lips.  However you may say it as you clink glasses—chin-chin, cheers, prost, salute, alla nostra, viva!, un brindisi (appropriately “toast” in Italian)—if it is Taurasi, all the better.

It has only been a few weeks since we returned to Italy and but for a real scare that my laptop crashed while in Ischia and that after 18 years I wouldn’t get a Blog out. everything at the moment is as it should be or they say here “tutt'appost”.  With fingers crossed that my laptop holds together while away, I look forward to writing Part II.  Due to technical issues while on the road, photos associated with the story are located below.

— To Be Continued —

 

From That Rogue Tourist,

Paolo

A Recent Tutt'Appost in San Agata
near Sorrento

French Alps as We Cruised South

The Naples Capodichino Airport

  

Our Route Across the Atlantic